“GIRL OVERBOARD!”
“Don’t call out to her,” whispered Polly. “Wait here just a minute,
while I climb down these rocks. This is the way she went, you can see
her tracks.”
“Tracks, on a rocky path,” murmured Ted, helplessly. “Polly, where are
they? I don’t see any?”
“Here, where the grass is trodden down. Now, don’t get frightened. Just
wait for me.” Polly started down the rocky path, and at its base looked
around cautiously. Not a living soul was in sight anywhere, but even
while she hesitated, she saw Sue’s form come apparently out of the
ground itself over in a rocky enclosure, well sheltered from wind and
wave. Polly turned, called to the rest to follow, and ran ahead to join
Sue.
“It’s a camp,” Sue said excitedly, as she reached her. “And there’s a
real cave, Polly, and a bed in it, and dishes, and the bed’s just been
slept in, and there’s a coffee pot in there that’s still warm.”
“Sue, I never knew you were such a splendid detective,” Polly answered,
warmly. “Let’s drink the pirates’ coffee right away.”
But Ruth and Kate arrived and advised caution until they found out just
what the mystery was.
“It’s probably only some fishermen,” said Nancy, in her matter-of-fact
way. “Father’d be sure to know if any strangers had arrived and settled
here.”
Polly started for the entrance to the cave.
“There may be somebody in there,” Ruth cried. “Please don’t go in.”
“There’s nobody at home,” Sue replied. “I’ve been in.”
It was a good-sized cave, Polly saw, as soon as she ventured into it.
The floor was of finest sand. There was a bed, a very primitive bed, but
yet a bed, made of branches of pine with blankets spread over them. Some
boxes served as seats, and a ledge of rock as a shelf for some dishes.
But Polly’s quick eyes noticed a couple of suitcases in one corner and
sundry articles of clothing lying around such as no consistent smuggler
or pirate would have deigned to don. When she came out into the sunlight
and faced the girls, she was smiling.
“Do fishermen around here have books and magazines lying around in
caves?” she asked. “There are all sorts of such things in this cave.”
“Well, anyway, Polly,” Kate put in, in her level-headed way, “whatever
they have in there, we have no business going in and rummaging around,
and they’ll very soon tell us so if they appear suddenly. I move that we
vanish.”
The motion was carried unanimously, and the girls climbed the path back
to the Castle.
“We can watch anyone who comes, from up here,” Polly said. “They’ll see
the yachts anyway, and know they have visitors.”
“Maybe they have already,” Kate suggested. “Maybe that’s what ails them.
Maybe they’ve seen us and have run away to hide.”
“Oh, such a hive of maybes,” laughed Ruth. “Still, maybe it’s so,
Polly.”
The idea gave them fresh courage, and they hurried to the Castle, and
hunted all over its ruins, enthusiastic over the outlook for adventure.
But even when they had reached the topmost point and the entire island
lay before them, not a sign of life did they detect. Save for their own
pretty fleet, riding at anchor down in the cove, the shore was deserted,
and not a single sound disturbed the air.
“I think whoever it is has gone fishing for his breakfast,” Nancy said,
decidedly. “And it’s probably only some of the boys from the summer
cottages or the hotel, having a little camp for a day or two. Let’s go
along as if nothing had happened, and if they should come back, we’ll
just tell them we came over to see the island and didn’t know it had any
people on it.”
It seemed to be the only sensible thing to do, so the girls agreed. As
Ruth said, in these days it was hardly likely there were pirates on the
island, and a party of ordinary campers wouldn’t eat them up or open
fire on them from any secret place. So in spite of their curiosity and
natural uneasiness, the girls managed to spend a happy day. They dug
clams and roasted them down on the beach for lunch, and even borrowed a
few things from the cave outfit, pepper and salt, some forks, and an
extra bottle of Chili sauce. With a plentiful supply of crackers, and
all that Aunty Welcome had put into their lunch boxes besides, it was a
feast. After it was over, the girls returned what they had borrowed, and
placed a conspicuous sign on them, written by Polly:
“Dear Smuggler:
“Thank you for your pepper, salt and Chili sauce. We leave in
return this jar of Aunty Welcome’s marmalade, and half a nut
cake, and six crullers, and some hermits. Do you know what
hermits are? We thought it would be appropriate to give you
some.”
“Put in an invitation for him to come over and see us,” Ted added, after
the six had stood off and regarded the sign critically. So Polly added
down at the bottom,
“And we should be happy to entertain you at any time at the
yacht club on Lost Island.”
“But what if he should come?” asked Isabel.
“He won’t,” retorted Polly, happily. “Smugglers aren’t a bit sociable.
But if he should, we’ll survey him in the offing, and if he comes in a
long, low rakish looking craft, we’ll all take to our heels, and run at
once for Fair Havens. This is what grandfather would say was a courtly
and polite thing to do after we had taken his Chili sauce, and it really
was extra nice.”
Later Kate climbed to the top of the ruined tower again, and returned,
after making a careful observation.
“When you were in the cave, Polly, did it seem to grow larger towards
the interior?”
“I think so. I could stand up in it easily, and it arched at the back.”
“I don’t think it’s a cave at all. I was on a direct line with it up in
the tower from the place where I stood, and I’m wondering if it isn’t a
passage cut through to the tower to make a way of escape at some time.”
“Kate, I never thought that you were a romancer,” laughed Polly. “If it
had been Isabel, we wouldn’t have been surprised, but for you—” she
shook her head doubtfully. “I shouldn’t wonder if there were sea chests
of gold, and all sorts of loot hidden away in there, but I’m not going
in after them. Come on, girls. It’s after five, and the wind will die
down soon.”
“I don’t see how we’re going to beat back against it, anyway,” Isabel
said. “It’s blowing this way from the Knob instead of towards it.”
“Oh, we’ll get back some way,” Polly led the way down the rocks to the
shore, and the rest followed. But it took some time to gather up the
shells and seaweed they had collected, so that when they were ready to
start the sun was sloping well down in the west, towards the back of
Bald Bluff on the ocean shore.
Crullers had a hard time getting started. The other girls were well
along on their course, before she left the shelter of the Cove, and even
then, she failed to catch the puff of wind that should have carried her
towards the inlet, where Polly said, they would tack, and cut across the
bay in a triangle.
“I don’t see how you can do it, Polly,” Kate said doubtfully.
“The wind will change when the tide comes in,” Polly called. “We’ll be
all right.”
“Oh, Polly, look at Crullers,” Sue cried, all at once, as she happened
to glance back over her shoulder. “She’s off the course, and making for
the open channel.”
The yachts were spread out like a line of geese, one behind the other,
and Crullers’ was last of all. Polly stood up, one hand on her tiller,
and looked back. Crullers was waving wildly and shouting something to
them, but the wind carried her voice the other way. And the little,
broad-keeled “cat” was taking her own pleasure, headed merrily for the
open channel.
“Crullers, sit down and steer,” shouted Polly.
“I can’t,” cried Crullers, helplessly, “the wooden thing in the handle
part of it’s broken.”
“Now what does she mean by that, the little lubber,” thought Polly. “It
must be the pintle bolt. I’m glad she’s got three ring buoys in the
locker.”
The other girls were dazed and couldn’t think what to do. Polly
slackened her sail, and put about. As she passed the others, she called
to them to keep along as they were and she would look after Crullers.
“I don’t see what she’s making all that noise about,” Sue exclaimed, as
they heard Crullers calling to them, frantically. “That boat of hers
wouldn’t sink if you jumped on it, and she’s got all those life
preservers packed away in the lockers, and the buoys too. There’s no
danger at all. She’s just scared.”
But suddenly there came a sound from the channel that made their blood
chill, the long, hollow boom of a steamer’s signal.
“Polly! Polly! Polly!” cried poor Crullers, in agony, and then they saw
her drop down in the boat, and cover her face with her hands.
“It’s the _City of Portland_ coming in, Polly,” Kate shouted, with her
hands up to her lips.
Polly shook her curls out of her face and nodded. “I’ll get her all
right,” she called back.
One hand held the tiller firm and steady, the other had loosened the
main sheet, and held it so as to get the benefit of every breath of
wind. Her head was bending forward, her eyes half closed like the
Captain’s, as they watched the squat little catboat ahead with Crullers
crouching it.
The big boat whistled again, sharp long calls of direction, of which not
one of the girls understood the meaning. Crullers stood up.
“Sit down,” called Polly, “sit down, and steady your boat, you little
goose. Hold her off to windward, Crullers, not that way, towards the
island, towards the island! Oh, can’t you hear anything? Loosen the main
sheet, that rope right there at the end of your boom, and let the wind
swing her about. Oh, dear, can’t you do what I say, Crullers?”
Crullers’ fingers fumbled over the main sheet. They were out in the
channel now, with the Point of the Sickle lying at their right hand, and
the lighthouse and station in plain sight. Just as Polly set her teeth,
and tried to make straight for the other boat, the great white steamer,
_City of Portland_, hove into sight, steaming up the channel. Then
something that Polly had either read or heard flashed through her mind.
A sailing vessel has the right of way. But Crullers did not know that,
and when she saw that monster bearing straight down on her, all her
courage and presence of mind left her. The one thing she did remember
were the ring buoys in the lockers at the stern.
The _Portland_ was blowing its whistle steadily now, and Polly called as
she came near, “It’s all right, Crullers. They’re holding up to let us
pass. Keep right along.”
Crullers was ahead, and did not seem to hear her, and just as she felt
sure they would pass safely, she saw Crullers deliberately stand up in
her rocking, unsteady little craft, with her two arms thrust to the
shoulders through a couple of ring buoys, and another held fast in her
hands. Her round, good-tempered face was blanched white, as she turned
towards Polly.
“I’m going to jump, Polly!” she called out shakily.
“Don’t you dare to!” Polly cried, but her words had no effect. They were
right in the path of the _Portland_, and under her great bow. The
Captain was shouting something to them, as he leaned out over the
bridge. Bells seemed to be ringing, and the rails were lined with tense,
startled faces. Polly could hear some women screaming up on deck. The
engines had stopped on the big boat, and she was drifting easily with
the incoming tide towards the inlet. It seemed in that second of time as
if everybody on the steamer was shouting out something different as
Crullers jumped into the water.
There was hardly any sea on. The bay was beautiful in the soft golden
glow before sunset. The tide had turned, and was coming in in long easy
swells like the waves from the wake of a steamer. It seemed to Polly
afterwards, when she looked back to that time, as if she saw everything
in the visible universe in those few seconds. The big boat standing off,
and booming, booming at them distractedly; Crullers’ little catboat,
righting itself gallantly after her jump, and starting off on its own
hook towards the Point; Crullers herself, looking so comical in spite of
the tragic danger, with the ring buoys around her arms like a new
fashion in sleeve puffs, and the third one hugged to her breast as she
slipped under the water; and most vivid of all, perhaps, the Life Saving
Station, where they evidently had been seen, for somebody was running
back up the beach towards the low white building.
Then suddenly she saw Crullers’ taffy-colored pigtails, lank and
drenched, and her face dripping and deathlike, as she came up. It seemed
the easiest and most natural thing in the world to lean over and catch
hold of the pigtails. Polly never thought of doing anything else, but as
she did so, and Crullers caught hold of the _Tidy Jane_ and was helped
and pulled over into its cockpit, a great, swelling cheer went up from
the decks of the _Portland_, and the captain swung off his cap in salute
to the little Commodore of the Yacht Club, as she tumbled her drenched
mate on the locker, and went back to steering.
The _Jane_ came about handsomely, and the engines on the steamer started
to throb. Then Polly glanced up, with one of her rare, frank smiles that
won her so many friends, and waved her hand back to all the faces that
seemed to smile at her, and at the big, burly Maine captain, who laughed
as he shouted down to her:
“Well done, mate, well done!”