JIMMIE THOMAS'S STRATEGY
On a chart the island of Grande Mignon bears the same relation to
surrounding islands that a mother-ship bears to a flock of submarines.
Westward her coast is rocky and forbidding, being nothing but a
succession of frowning headlands that rise almost perpendicularly from
the sea. It is one of the most desolate stretches of coast in moderate
latitudes, for no one lives there, nor has ever lived there, except a
few hermit dulce-pickers during the summer months.
Along the east coast, that looks across the Atlantic, are strung the
villages, nestled in bays and coves. And it is out from this coast
that the dozen little islands lie. First, and partially across the
mouth of the bay where the fishing fleet lies, is Long Island. Then
comes High Duck, Low Duck, and Big Duck. Farther south there are
Ross's, Whitehead, and Big Wood islands, not to mention spits, points,
and ledges of rock innumerable and all honored with names.
It was the fact of so many treacherous ledges and reefs to be
navigated safely in a four-knot tide that was agitating the half-dozen
"guests" at Mis' Shannon's boarding-house. It need hardly be said that
Mis' Shannon was a widow, but her distinction lay in being called mis'
instead of ma.
She made a livelihood by putting up the "runners" who made periodical
trips with their sample cases for the benefit of the local tradesmen,
and took in occasional "rusticators," or summer tourists who had
courage enough to dare the passage of the strait in the tiny steamer.
The principal auditor of the harrowing tales that were flying about
the table over the fish chowder was Mr. Aubrey Templeton, the young
lawyer from St. John's who had arrived on the steamer that afternoon.
Just opposite to Mr. Templeton at the table sat Jimmie Thomas, who,
being a bachelor, had made his home with Miss Shannon for the last
three years. And it was Jimmie who had held the table spell-bound with
his tales of danger and narrow escapes.
He had just concluded a yarn, told in all seriousness, of how a shark
had leaped over the back of a dory in Whale Cove and the two men in
the dory had barely escaped with their lives.
"And I know the two men it happened to," he concluded; "or I know one
of 'em; the other's dead. Ol' Jasper Schofield never got over the
scare he got that day."
The lawyer sat bolt upright in his chair.
"Do you know the Schofields?" he demanded of Thomas.
"Guess I ought to. I've been dorymate with Code when the old man was
skipper. A finer young feller ain't on this island."
"Do you happen to know where he is?" asked Templeton. "I came to
Grande Mignon on several important matters, and one of them was to
see him. I've tried to locate the fellow, but he seems to have
disappeared."
"Why, I seen him to-day myself in Castalia!" cried Thomas. "He's up
there hirin' men to ship with him. Said he was goin' to stay all
night. I know the very house he's in."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"Do you think I could get there to-night?"
"You might." Jimmie looked at his watch. "The Seal Cove mail-wagon's
gone long ago, but I'll take you down in my motor-dory if you'll come
right now."
Templeton did not even wait to finish his supper, but went out with
Thomas immediately. A few minutes' walk brought them to the little
beach where the dory was drawn up and they were soon on their way. But
before they left, Templeton scribbled a message on a piece of paper
and left it with Mrs. Shannon to be given to Nat Burns, who, he said,
was to call for him at half-past seven.
Thomas kept the nose of his dory pointed to the lights of several
houses that gleamed across the bay. They were not, however, the lights
of Castalia, which were almost invisible farther south. But Templeton,
who had never been on Grande Mignon before, sat blissfully ignorant of
this circumstance.
Later, however, he remembered that his accommodating guide had
chuckled inexplicably during most of the trip.
Twenty minutes' ride in the chill night air brought them to a long,
low pier that extended out into the black water. Above on the hillside
the windows of the big fishing settlement on Long Island gleamed
comfortable and yellow.
Thomas ran his dory close to the landing-stage and then reversed the
engine so that at the time most convenient for Templeton to step off
the boat had lost all motion. The lawyer landed, but Jimmie did not
shut off his engine. Instead he turned it on full speed and backed
away from the dock.
"Hey, you, where are you going?" called Templeton, vaguely alarmed for
the first time.
"Back to the village," answered Thomas, sending his motor into the
forward speed. "I got something very important to do there."
"But in which house is Schofield?" cried the other. "You said you
would show me."
There was no reply, and it is possible that, due to the noise of the
engine, Thomas had not heard the protest at all.
Nat Burns arrived at Shannon's boarding-house slightly in advance of
the time named, and read Templeton's note saying that he had gone to
Castalia to nab Code while he had the chance.
"Who did Templeton go with?" he asked fearfully of the landlady.
"Mr. Thomas," replied that worthy.
"My God!" rapped out Burns in such a tone of disgust and defeat that
she shrank from him with uplifted hands. But he did not notice her.
Instead he rushed out of the house and along the road toward Freekirk
Head.
* * * * *
The boarding-house was a full half-mile from the wharfs of the
village, and after a hundred yards Burns slowed down into a rapid
walk.
"The fool took the bait like a dogfish," he snarled. "Lord knows where
he is by this time. I'll bet Schofield is at the bottom of this."
He had not as yet found out where Code was, and his first step when he
reached the village was to go to the Schofield cottage and verify
Templeton's note.
Josie, the orphan girl, was there alone, and was on the point of tears
with having been left alone so long with night coming on.
When questioned the girl admitted readily enough that Mrs. Schofield
had taken a bundle of Code's clothing and gone to Castalia in the
afternoon, she having overheard the conversation that took place
between her mistress and Pete Ellinwood.
When he had gained this information Burns hurried from the house and
toward the spot on the beach between the wharfs where his dory lay.
He had not the remotest idea what had become of Templeton, but he was
reasonably sure that if Thomas had taken him to Castalia, Schofield
was no longer there.
What Thomas had really done did not occur to him, and his one idea was
to get to the neighboring village as soon as possible and ascertain
just what had taken place.
His dory was beached alongside the pier where the _Charming Lass_ had
lain for the past week. Now, as he approached it, he suddenly stopped,
rooted in his tracks.
The _Charming Lass_ was gone.