THE CALL OF THE DARK
A few handfuls of sea water dashed into Roy's face by Ichabod, together
with a rough massage by Van Dusen, soon brought the young man around
again.
"I must have the truth," he declared, "no matter how terrible. Was the
young woman lost?"
"Why, no, young man," the fisherman answered; "least-wise, not in the
wreck. I took her out o' the water myself. She was plumb full o'
swallered brine, but I had that out o' her in a jiffy. I took her into
my shack an' got her all right exceptin' her haid. Poor thing never did
speak to me but once."
"Then she died!" Roy cried, in a tone of anguish.
But Ichabod shook his head emphatically.
"Not as I knows on," he declared; "unless that nervous-actin' skunk has
killed her since he took her away in the small boat. Had I knowed what I
l'arned yesterday at the wireless station, I'd 'a' held on to the gal. I
saw she was pretty bad, not bein' able to talk, an' so I told the man I
took off o' the wreck that what she needed was an M.D. Leavin' him in
charge, fer he seemed to know a heap about medicine himself, I put the
rag on the skiff, an' sailed to town for the Doctor. When I got back, I
found that the thievin' rascal had stole my pet rooster, a pair o'
blankets--an' the woman, an' had gone off in the gasoline tender what
come ashore from the wreck. O' course, they went up the Sound--to God
knows whar! The woman ain't safe with no sich critter as that feller. If
the gal is much to you, which I 'lows she is from your tantrums, ye had
best make all haste to git her. I was jest a-fixin' to go to Beaufort
an' take out a warrant fer the feller fer murder, an' charter a gasoline
boat, prepared to go through hell if need be to save that gal an' put
the sallow-skinned varmint, what took her, behind the bars o' the county
jail."
"Warrant for murder?" Van Dusen demanded, suddenly alert, "What do you
mean, Captain Jones? Has this man killed some one?"
"Wall, I reckin!" Ichabod answered grimly. "Thar was a feller a-sailin'
around the wreck o' _The Isabel_, which, as ye see, is all busted to
pieces by an explosion after she struck an' the beatin' on her of the
big storm waves. When this feller looked down by the engine, he saw a
dead man a-lookin' back up at him. He looked closter before he hurried
away, an' saw that the poor devil was chained to the wreck. Now, that
bein' the case, an' this feller that's got the gal bein' the man in
charge o' the yacht, then why _ain't_ he wanted for murder?"
Van Dusen nodded his head understandingly.
"This clears up part of the mystery," he said to Roy. "Now, if we can
only catch Garnet and save Miss Marion, the case will be happily ended.
The whole thing is clear in my mind, but we have still to find the
proof."
"Them's the names the feller give me," the fisherman vouchsafed, "when
he introduced himself to me. I 'lowed he was 'most crazy from his scare.
Say, men! Do you know I think that feller was a-takin' dope, an',
furthermore, since I've had time to think it over, I'm almost certain I
saw him puttin' some under the gal's skin. As folks around here only use
Baitman Drops or swallers pills, I took a spot on the gal's arm fer a
skeeter bump. I didn't know what the shiny thing was that he slipped in
his pocket when he saw me a-lookin'. Since then the Doctor has told me
he 'lowed it was a hypodermic. First he called it a gun, but when he
discovered that I thought he meant a shootin' iron, because I said it
was too small fer that, why, then he give me the other name. O' course,
I had heard that other name afore."
"This whole business is goin' to turn out just as I outlined it to you,
Roy," Van Dusen asserted. "These things are unusual, but I don't think
you need have any fears for Miss Marion, provided she doesn't starve, or
meet with some accident through the foolhardiness of this crazy Garnet.
The thing I suggest is to solicit the aid of Captain Jones, and have him
act as our pilot. We should also charter several small gasoline boats
and go through the waters of this shallow Sound and its tributaries like
a fine-toothed comb. It's haste now that is important. We'll probably
find the fellow hidden away in some remote fisherman's home where he can
administer to the wants of his patient, while avoiding capture. I
believe that he is, even though deranged, terrorized at the thought of
arrest, so that he will not dare come out into the open. That's the
reason he left the comfortable quarters of the Island."
Roy was all eagerness to begin the work forthwith, and Ichabod proffered
all the assistance in his power.
"Jest a minute, men," he said, "till I swaller my coffee an' put out the
fire, then Ichabod Jones will be ready to show ye every nook an' corner
o' these-here waters; an' if that skunk ain't got out of 'em or gone to
the bottom, we'll git him--an' git him right!"
After leaving Norfolk, _The Hialdo_ had covered many miles. Arthur Van
Dusen when he acted, moved with deliberation as well as speed. Already,
on the way down, every avenue of escape had been blocked. It would have
been impossible for _The Isabel_ to escape over the route by which the
pursuers had come. She would have been seized the moment she showed at
any port. The thoroughness of these precautionary measures was the
reason why it was not until now that _The Hialdo_ had dropped anchor at
Beaufort Inlet.
The only area that remained unsearched was the Core Sound section. The
searchers had taken advantage of the night, when there was little else
that they could do, to run down to the Inlet in order to find out if the
yacht had passed out to sea through the channel.
They were reasonably certain now that the Doctor and the young woman
were not a great way off. Van Dusen was confident of speedily running
down the culprit, and he was exultant over the prospect. But Roy was
still tortured with anxiety concerning the safety of the girl he loved.
Before coming out of the shack to go aboard _The Hialdo_, Ichabod took
time to tidy up his person a little. This, for the sufficient reason
that they were going first to Beaufort, where it might be that he would
encounter Sarah Porter. It would never do for her to see him except
properly "spruced up" for a trip to town. There was, in addition, the
fact that he was about to go aboard a handsome yacht, where, as he knew,
everybody went about habitually "dressed up." As he took a parting
glance into his tiny bit of mirror, the old fisherman indulged in a
self-satisfied smirk, and spoke aloud.
"I'd be willin' to bet that when them fine fellers gits to be as old as
me, they can't tell as how ten single women kissed 'em all in one day,
an' another one, by cracky, made eyes an' jest didn't darst!"
Having thus said, Ichabod hurried off to his visitors, and a minute
later was following them up the ladder to the deck of _The Hialdo_. Van
Dusen had taken on a pilot at Ocracoke, so that they had no trouble in
following the intricate round-about ship's channel to the town.
Captain Ichabod directed the place of anchorage. This was in the small
channel directly in front of the Inlet Hotel, where Sarah Porter reigned
supreme. They would use her wharf in going ashore. He admitted to
himself that he had been pleased over being kissed by the "young fry";
but he also admitted that the chief appeal to him had been made by the
elderly woman who had looked on so disapprovingly from her place in the
Doctor's launch.
Van Dusen was anxious to call first upon the Collector of the Port. That
office here had become, of late years, rather unimportant, since the
action of the tides had filled the Inlet with sand, to such an extent
that very few vessels of the ocean-going steamer type could get over the
bar. The Collector's business was confined to seeing that yachts and
other vessels of small draft had their proper papers. There was no
United States Marshal located in the town, and the case of _The Isabel_
was plainly one to be handled by the Treasury Department.
It was unnecessary for Ichabod to guide the detective further than the
wharf, for the Custom House, with its identifying flag, stood near the
landing. So, the Captain felt himself at liberty to visit the hotel,
where he reclined at ease in a rocking chair on the porch, and enjoyed
an intermittent conversation with the hostess of the inn. Roy remained
on board the yacht, at his friend's bidding, in order to recover from
the shock he had suffered on hearing Ichabod's story.
Van Dusen found the Collector anxious to be of service in every possible
way. He suggested that the services of the Sheriff should be enlisted,
and that a warrant for the arrest of Doctor Garnet should be secured
from the Justice of the Peace, for robbery, to be sworn to by Ichabod,
since that offense had been committed within the jurisdiction of the
state courts.
The Sheriff, when called up over the telephone, agreed to supply three
deputies, each equipped with a copy of the warrant. Finally, two small
launches, each carrying one of the Sheriff's men, were chartered to
voyage in different directions for the search, while the third would go
aboard _The Hialdo_. Other business prevented the Sheriff from giving
his personal aid in the quest. Ichabod was interrupted during his
pleasuring on the porch by a telephone call, which requested him to
report at once to Squire Chadwick's office in order to swear to the
necessary papers.
But the fisherman forgot the imperative summons as his hostess came out
on the porch to bid him farewell.
"Do ye realize, Sarah Porter, that this is the very fust time in over
twenty year that I've come to your house except on business, without
some fishes, terrapin, scallops, or sich to sell fer the hotel?"
Miss Porter blushed like a girl.
"Well, seein' as how you mention it, I reckon it's a fact." Her manner
did not betray how often she had wondered, and perhaps grieved, over
that fact during the score of years.
Then, Ichabod at last took heart of courage, and spoke boldly:
"This time, Sarah, arter due deliberation, an' study, Ichabod has come
to ye to give something away. Tain't nothin' that comes out o' these
waters or sands or marshes. Tain't gold, nor yit silver, but somethin'
that nobody in all these years could 'a' bought, had they tried. Could
ye guess what it mout be, Sarah?"
There came a certain dreaminess into the woman's eyes, which, if a
little dimmed, had by no means lost their luster.
"I never was good at guessing, Ichabod," she said simply. "I cal'late
you'll jest have to tell me. I know from the way you speak that it must
be something perfectly splendid."
"Wall, now, you may think it more wuthless than plain seaweed, an' if ye
do, why ye must speak right out, Sarah. What I have come to offer ye is
Ichabod Jones' love!"
Ichabod waited through a full minute for the answer that failed to come.
The woman's eyes were gazing out over the broad expanse of the Atlantic,
which opened so gloriously before them. He took one of her hands in his,
and pressed it gently as he went on speaking.
"It's true that I'm some old, but I ain't crippled. An' arter all these
years o'--yes, oh, hell!--I want to be loved ag'in. Sarah, I'll tell ye,
an' it's God's truth, I never did love that triflin' woman. I have come
to that idea arter a long time o' thinkin'. I was young, an' I thought I
loved her, but, Sarah, I just had my haid turned. Time is now tellin' my
true feelin's."
Still the woman made no answer, but her very silence gave encouragement
to the wooer.
"I'm through with fishin' an' lonely livin', whether or no, Sarah. All
these years that I've hung around alone, it hain't cost me much to live,
an' I've got a right smart o' money saved up. Ye know, this hotel ain't
big 'nough fer all the Yankees that'd like to stop on the way up an'
down offen their yachts. I was a-thinkin' las' night what a thing it'd
be for me an' you to be real partners, an' let me spend some o' the
savin's to double the size o' the hotel, an' hire 'nough help to take
the strain offen you in runnin' o' it."
The mingling of romance and practical worldly advantage won Miss
Porter's consent to the plea of her suitor. Perhaps, either would have
sufficed of itself; certainly, together, they were irresistible. Ichabod
was all a-tremble with happiness and pride, as the spinster coyly
offered her cheek to his kiss.
He started guiltily a moment later, as a huge negress appeared in the
doorway, and bawled at him:
"Mr. Ichabod, the 'phone is a-callin' yoh-all."