Marooned
Miss Birks's birthday fell on the 1st April, and so did Betty Scott's.
It was not a particularly happy date for an anniversary, but they both
declared they liked it. To Betty it was certainly a chequered event, for
the girls treated her to the jokes they dared not play on the
head-mistress, and she had to endure a double dose of chaffing. But, on
the other hand, a birthday shared with Miss Birks was luck above the
common. There was invariably a whole holiday, and some special treat to
celebrate the occasion. The nature of the festival depended so entirely
upon the day that it was not generally decided till the last minute,
which added an element of surprise, and on the whole enhanced the
enjoyment. Whether this year's jollification would be outdoors or
indoors was naturally a subject of much speculation, but the morning
itself settled the question. Such a clear blue sky, such brilliant
sunshine, and so calm a sea pointed emphatically to an excursion by
water, and Miss Birks at once decided to hire boats, and take the school
for a picnic to a little group of islets due west of the headland.
The girls loved being on the sea, and did not often get an opportunity
of gratifying their nautical tendencies, for they were, of course, never
allowed to hire boats on their own account. Miss Birks was too afraid of
accidents to permit lessons in rowing, though many of her pupils
thirsted to try their skill with the oars, and had often vainly begged
leave to learn in the harbour. To-day three small yachts, with steady
and experienced boatmen, were waiting by the quay at Pontperran, and
even Mademoiselle--the champion of timorous fears--stepped inside
without any nervous dread of going to the bottom of the ocean. It was
delightful skimming out over the dancing, shining water, so smooth that
the worst sailor could not experience a qualm, yet lapping gently
against the bows as if it were trying to leap up and investigate the
cargo of fair maidens carried on its bosom. With one accord the girls
struck up some boat songs, and the strains of "Row, brothers, row!" or
"Speed, bonny boat, like a bird on the wing,
Over the sea to Skye,"
rang clear and sweet in the fresh spring air.
Everybody agreed that the passage was too short, and they were almost
sorry when they arrived at their destination. The islands were nothing
more than a group of five rocks, too small for cultivation, and
inhabited only by sea-birds. Some rough grass and bushes grew on the
largest, where there was also a shelving sandy strip of beach that
formed a safe landing-place. Here all disembarked, and the provision
hampers were carried ashore, together with the big iron trivet and
cauldron used for picnics. There was something very fascinating in thus
taking possession of a desert island, if only for a few hours. For the
present the school felt themselves a band of girl Crusoes, and set to
work at once in pioneer fashion to make preparations for lunch. There
was an ample supply of drift-wood lying above high-water mark to serve
as fuel under their trivet, so while some got the fire going, others
took garden spades which they had brought with them and dug sand seats
sufficient to accommodate the company. The chairs destined for the
mistresses were quite superior erections, provided with backs, and that
of Miss Birks was adorned with shells, specially collected from the
rocks by a committee of decoration told off for the purpose. In shape
and elaboration of ornament it resembled a throne, and as a finishing
touch the motto "A Happy Birthday" was placed in yellow periwinkles at
the foot.
By the time these extensive preparations were finished, the cauldron was
boiling, for the fire had been well kept up, and replenished with wood.
Miss Harding dropped in the muslin bag containing the tea, Jessie
Macpherson assumed command of the milk can, and a willing army carried
cups and laid out provisions. The boatmen were provided each with a
steaming pint mug of tea, and a basket of comestibles amongst them, and
retired to one of the yachts with grins of satisfaction on their
countenances. That hospitality having been settled, the cauldron--which
combined the function of urn as well--flowed busily, filling cup after
cup till the whole school collected on the sand seats to do justice to
the provisions. There were rival birthday cakes: Miss Birks's, a
nobly-iced erection decorated with candied violets, was perhaps the
larger of the two, but Betty's--sent from home--had the glory of fifteen
coloured candles.
"Yours ought to have had candles too, Miss Birks," she said, as she
carefully struck a match.
"I'm afraid they'd be too thick on the ground!" laughed Miss Birks. "I
used to have them when I was a child, but I barred the exhibition of my
years after I was twenty-one."
"I once knew a gentleman who had a huge birthday cake with seventy
candles on, and all his grandchildren came to his party," volunteered
Hilda Marriott.
"That must have been a truly patriarchal cake, and something to
remember. I'm afraid I can only offer you candied violets. Betty, shall
we each cut our first slice at the same moment? Here's to everybody's
health and prosperity and good luck for the rest of the year!"
It was the first real picnic since last autumn, so, added to the double
birthday, it seemed a more than ordinary festivity, and everybody waxed
particularly jolly. Miss Birks told humorous Irish stories, and made
endless jokes; even Miss Harding, usually the pink of propriety, was
guilty of an intentional pun. The merry meal was over at last, and when
the baskets had been repacked, all dispersed to wander round the tiny
island. It did not differ particularly from the mainland, but the girls
found it amusing to investigate new coves, and ramble about on the
grassy expanse at the top of the cliffs. A few sought out Miss Birks and
begged to be allowed to explore the next largest islet of the group, so
after a little discussion half a dozen were sent off under charge of
Miss Harding in one of the boats. As there only remained about forty
minutes before it would be necessary to go back, it was arranged that
this boat should not waste time by returning to the bigger island, but
should start on its own account, independently of the other two, as soon
as its party had made a brief survey of the islet.
Deirdre and Dulcie, who were venturesome climbers, took advantage of the
extra liberty allowed them on this special day to escape by themselves
without the tiresome addition of the usual third, and scaled the very
highest point of the rocky centre. Here they found they had an excellent
view of the whole of the small group, and could command a prospect of
cove and inlet quite unattainable from the shore. Dulcie had brought a
pair of field-glasses, and with their aid distant objects drew near, and
what seemed mere specks to the ordinary vision proved to be sea-birds,
preening their wings, or resting upon the rocks. They watched with great
interest the progress of the boat to the other island.
"Didn't know Miss Birks was going to let anyone go, or we'd have gone
ourselves," lamented Deirdre. "Who's in her? Can you see?"
"Perfectly. Miss Harding and Jessie Macpherson, Phyllis Rowland, Doris
Patterson, Rhoda Wilkins, Irene Jordan, and Gerda Thorwaldson. David
Essery is rowing them."
"Oh, I wish we'd gone!" repeated Deirdre enviously. "Give me the
glasses, and let me take a look."
It was a very long look, that swept all round the islands and took in
every detail of cliff and rock. Deirdre repeated it twice, then gave a
sudden exclamation.
"Dulcie, you see that big black cliff over there--rather like a
seal--count three points farther on, and tell me if you don't think
there's a boat in that tiny inlet."
Dulcie seized the glasses, and proceeded to verify the statement.
"It is! Oh, it certainly is! It's moving out now from behind the rock.
Somebody's in it, rowing--Deirdre! I do believe----"
"Not him!" shrieked Deirdre ungrammatically, snatching the glasses from
her friend. "Oh, it is! I'm perfectly persuaded it is! It's just his
figure, and he rows in the same way exactly--the man in the brown
jersey!"
"Then Gerda's engineered that expedition to go and meet him. It's as
plain as plain!"
Their excitement was intense. It did indeed seem an important discovery,
and an added link in their chain of circumstances. Should they stay
where they were, and watch the meeting through the field-glasses, or
would it be possible to follow the matter up more nearly? They resolved
to make a try for the latter. Climbing down as rapidly as they could
from their point of vantage, they found Miss Birks, and entreated to be
allowed to join the party on the other island.
"John Pengelly would row us over, and we'd catch them up immediately,"
they pleaded. "Oh, do please let us go!"
Miss Birks was in a birthday frame of mind, and prepared to listen to
any fairly-reasonable request.
"There would be quite room for you to go home in David Essery's boat,"
she acquiesced. "Yes, you may go if you wish. John Pengelly can take you
at once. Tell Miss Harding I sent you, and you're to return with her
party."
The boatman was good-natured, and apparently did not mind making the
extra journey. He grinned at the girls as he pushed off.
"Can't have too much of the sea, missies?" he ventured. "I'll soon pull
you over there."
He landed them carefully on the second island, then rowed back to the
first landing-place to join his fellow boatman and smoke a pipe till it
was time to start. Deirdre and Dulcie knew exactly which way Miss
Harding and the girls had gone, and their plain duty was to follow them
as rapidly as possible, and report themselves as additions to the party.
They did nothing of the sort, however. Instead, they took exactly the
opposite direction, and made for the western side of the islet, where
they had seen the mysterious boat.
"You may depend upon it we shall find Gerda there," said Deirdre. "It's
better not to let her know we're here. We're far more likely to catch
her."
With a little scrambling they reached an inlet, which--so they
calculated--must be the one they had marked through the field-glasses.
They could see no boat, however, and no Gerda. They waited for a while,
then rambled farther along the shore, but finding nothing, came back to
their former point. They had so entirely counted upon Gerda being there
that they felt decidedly disappointed.
"Perhaps she couldn't sneak off," suggested Dulcie. "Miss Harding's very
tiresome and particular sometimes."
"I wonder if the boat's waiting about for her?" said Deirdre. "I should
very much like to know."
Obeying a sudden impulse, she advanced to the edge of the waves and
reproduced, as nearly as she could remember it, the long peculiar curlew
cry which Gerda had given as a signal on the former occasion. The effect
was instantaneous. There was an answering whistle, and from behind a
rock not very far away a small craft shot out into the creek. It was
undoubtedly the same white dinghy which they had seen before, and
contained the same tall, fair man who had spoken with their school-mate.
He rowed forward with a few rapid strokes, then seeing Deirdre and
Dulcie he paused, took a searching glance round the shore, turned his
boat, and rowed away from the island, passing as quickly as possible
behind the shelter of the next of the group. Deirdre stood watching him
through the field-glasses as he disappeared. She was not altogether sure
whether she had not made a false move. It was perhaps hardly wise to
have thus put him on his guard, and let him become aware that they knew
of the curlew signal. She already regretted her hasty, thoughtless act.
She was conscious that it would defeat her own ends. It seemed no use
staying any longer in the creek, for he would certainly not be likely to
return after such an alarm.
"We'd better go and find Miss Harding," suggested Dulcie.
It was undoubtedly high time they reported themselves, so, putting the
field-glasses back in their case, they set off for the other side of the
island. Arrived at the opposite cove, they looked eagerly for their
school-mates, but nobody was to be seen.
"I expect they're a little farther on," suggested Deirdre, hiding the
fear she dared not own.
But they were not farther on, and though the girls climbed the cliff, so
as to have a thorough view of the shore, and shouted and cooeed till
they were hoarse, there was not a sign of a human being anywhere. Far on
the horizon were three tiny specks.
Dulcie took out the all-useful glasses, and adjusted the focus
anxiously. One glance confirmed her worst apprehensions--the boats had
gone, and left them behind! It was perfectly easy to see how it had
happened. Miss Birks, having sent them specially across the sound,
believed them to be with Miss Harding's party, and Miss Harding did not
even know that they had left the larger island. It was their own fault
entirely for not reporting themselves. While they had been watching the
mysterious boatman on the wrong side of the island, the others must have
been starting, utterly unconscious that two of their number were
missing.
"We're marooned! That's what it amounts to." Deirdre's voice shook a
little as she made the unwelcome admission.
"Well, of all idiots we're the biggest! We have got ourselves into a
jolly fix!" exploded Dulcie.
It was highly probable that they would not be missed until the arrival
at the harbour. Then, no doubt, someone would come back for them, but
the tide was rising rapidly, and perhaps by the time a boat could return
it would not be possible to land and take them off. The prospect of a
night spent on a desert island was not enlivening. Then, too, came
another fear. The mysterious stranger was in the near neighbourhood.
Hidden behind rocks and creeks he might have accomplices, who might take
it into their heads to reconnoitre. The idea was horrible. They felt an
intense dread of the unknown man in the brown jersey. He must be very
angry that they had discovered his signal. Suppose he were to find them,
and wreak his vengeance upon them? They bitterly rued their folly,
though that did not mend matters in the least.
"We won't go over to that side of the island again, in case he might see
us," quavered Dulcie. "Let us sit down here, in this sheltered corner.
How cold it's getting!"
"I'm hungry, too," sighed Deirdre. "There's nothing to eat on the place
except raw periwinkles!"
The sun had set behind a bank of grey clouds, and even in the last ten
minutes the daylight had faded noticeably. A chilly wind had sprung up,
and the girls shivered as they buttoned their coats closely.
"Do you hear something?" said Dulcie presently.
It was a sound of oars, and both pricked up their ears, half-nervously,
half-hopefully. They did not venture to show themselves till they could
ascertain whether it were friend or enemy. Hidden under the shadow of
the rock, they watched the darkening water, then gripped each other's
hands in terror--it was the white boat that appeared round the corner.
Its brown-jerseyed occupant was rowing slowly and leisurely, with a
careful eye on the shore as he went. Would he see them? They were only
partially concealed, and a keen observer might easily detect their
presence. To Deirdre those few minutes equalled years of agony--her
lively imagination summoned up every possible horror. He paused at last
on his oars, and gave the long shrill curlew call. A hundred seagulls
screamed in reply. Twice, thrice he repeated it, then apparently judging
it a failure, he rowed away in the direction of the mainland.
Dulcie was crying with fright and cold. She let the tears trickle
unwiped down her plump cheeks. She was not cut out by nature for a
heroine, and would gladly just then have given up all chance of seeing
her portrait in the newspapers if she could have found herself safely
back in the schoolroom at the Dower House. Adventures might be all very
well in their way, but this one had gone decidedly too far.
"I wish you'd never suggested our coming," she said fretfully. "It was
your fault, Deirdre."
"Don't be mean, and try and throw the blame on me! You were just as keen
as I was!"
"I'm not keen now! I wish to goodness we'd never bothered our heads
about Gerda. You won't catch me on such a wild-goose chase again!"
"I'm utterly disgusted with you, Dulcie Wilcox!" returned Deirdre
witheringly; and Dulcie wept yet harder, to have added to her physical
troubles a quarrel with her chum.
It was almost dark before a search party, consisting of Miss Birks and
three boatmen, arrived to fetch them, and the tide had risen so high
that it was impossible to land as before, so that John Pengelly had to
wade through the water and carry each of them in turn on his back to the
boat. Miss Birks said little, but they knew it was the ominous silence
before a storm, and that she would have much to say on the morrow. They
were intensely thankful when they at last saw the lights of Pontperran,
and felt they were within measurable distance of food and fire.
"You provided a nice birthday treat for Miss Birks, I must say,"
commented Jessie Macpherson sarcastically. "What possessed you to go off
on your own in that silly way? There was nothing in the least
interesting on that side of the island, and you knew where we were, and
that we should be starting almost directly. I simply can't understand
such foolishness! Why did you do it?"
But an explanation of the motives that had influenced their conduct was
the very last thing in the world that Deirdre and Dulcie felt disposed
to offer, even to mitigate the scorn of the head girl.