SEALED ORDERS
Doctor Garnet, seeing the effect made upon the girl by the conclusion of
the story, did not approach her or try to relieve her, as had been his
wont. At the moment he felt himself too low, too despicable, to lay his
hands on this fair girl, even as a physician. Moreover, he knew that it
would not be long ere she recovered her calm. Indeed, only a few minutes
elapsed before Ethel had passed through the crisis of her emotion. Her
mind clear again, she stared at the man with an unconcealed repugnance,
under which he cringed. She thought with dismay of the dreadful thing
Doctor Garnet had done. She even wondered now with new distress as to
what her friends must have thought concerning her secret departure. It
seemed to her that the truth was too fantastic a thing to be credited by
the world at large. It would scoff at this explanation of a young girl's
sailing for days with a man, practically alone, on her own yacht. She
shuddered at thought of the slanders sure to be her portion. How her
father would grieve over this disgrace of his daughter! How
Roy----Appalled, she thrust the terrifying thought from her mind.... And
there was the murder of the caretaker! Would the public not believe her
an accomplice, by consent at least, in that forcible holding of him to
the engine?
Ethel's thoughts veered to Roy again. But, now, there was something of
comfort in her musing. It occurred to her that he at least would believe
the truth, though all the rest of the world should mock at it as a lie.
Besides, there was the message she had thrown into the sea for him,
which she had seen picked up by the fisherman. There was no doubt in her
mind now that Roy had received it. There came a little glow of courage
in her heart as she reflected that even at this very moment he was
searching desperately for her.... Had she been outside the cabin just
then, she might have seen the lights of _The Hialdo_, on which her lover
was being carried to Beaufort, there to receive the news of her having
left Ichabod's Island alive.
A new courage for herself left her free to feel compassion toward the
miserable being who had done her such grievous wrong. She could guess in
some measure from the man's lined and haggard face and twitching body
how great was his suffering and remorse. From the fact that he had made
such a full confession of his guilt, she knew that he would make every
restitution in his power. Sympathy for him, added to sympathy for
herself, proved too much for her self-restraint. Woman-like, she hid her
face in her arms outstretched on the table, and wept.
After a little while, the fit of weeping ended. The girl brushed away
the tears, and again sat erect. Then, for a long time, neither she nor
the man opposite her moved or spoke. What, indeed, was there for her to
say to him who had made her his victim? She had not the heart to
reproach him. She could find no word of comfort. It seemed to her that
there could be no assuagement of his misery--that he were better dead.
If he lived, he must be a fugitive from justice, or, if captured, he
must be tried and condemned for murder. Or he might end his days in a
mad-house. Surely, death were preferable.
But Ethel knew that Doctor Garnet, despite her earlier belief, was not
mad. Notwithstanding the tortures he endured, his narrative to her had
revealed a mind lucid and sane. She wondered suddenly if, after all, it
might be possible somehow to save him from the law's penalty? Yet, the
damning evidence of the murdered man in the wreck of the yacht could not
be concealed. The consequence of it would be that there could be no
safety for the guilty one--at least on this continent.
That last phrase brought inspiration to the girl. There flashed into her
mind a thought of another continent, where death was riding ruthless
over countless thousands. There, under a new identity, this miserable
creature might return to his manhood, might once again exercise his
great skill in behalf of suffering humanity, might indeed atone for the
past, might win a martyr's crown.... If he could but be smuggled out of
the country!
It was hours past midnight now; a ghostly trace of dawn showed in the
eastern sky. The physician, it was evident, was fighting desperately
against the anguish induced by his abstinence after over-indulgence in
the drug. But, presently, he noted through the open doorway the
lightening of the horizon. Once again, now, he spoke to Ethel.
"Miss Marion, it's near daylight and the wind is still holding to the
same course it was blowing yesterday. I see little chance of getting
away from this place until there is a change. It is, I should judge,
about twenty miles to Portsmouth. With your permission, I shall set out
for there at once, in order to procure a boat and then return to you.
I'm sure that I can make it. I shall be spurred on by two of the
strongest incentives: one is my anxiety in your behalf; the other--for I
shall be frank with you--is my anxiety to reach a physician. I know that
unless I can secure relief within a few hours I shall become insane."
He paused for a moment, and then added in a voice surcharged with
emotion:
"This has been a terrible night. It was a horrible ordeal for me to make
my confession to you. But now I feel the better for it. I have fought my
hardest to retain my self-control, and I have succeeded thus far. Now,
if you can only continue to be brave for a few hours, I'll have you
safely on your way home."
"But do you consider that you are equal to the trip, Doctor?" Ethel
inquired doubtfully. "Twenty miles is a long, long distance for one in
your state of body and mind. Oh, how I wish my ankle was fit, so that I
could stand the journey! But, of course, you most certainly have my
permission, Doctor Garnet. That is, on one condition."
"And what is that condition, Miss Marion?"
"I want you to go under sealed instructions. I shall write these out and
give them to you, but you must not read them until you have gone ten
miles up the shore. Before you answer, let me tell you that in those
instructions you will find nothing but what is to the best interests of
both yourself and me."
"I owe you every obedience," the Doctor declared instantly, though there
was a note of astonishment in his voice. "It shall be as you wish."
At her request, Doctor Garnet provided Ethel with his fountain-pen and
some pages torn from his memorandum-book. She wrote her instructions
hurriedly, folded them and gave them to the physician, who bestowed them
in his coat-pocket. Then, with a short word of farewell, he set forth on
his journey, while the girl, standing in the doorway, looked after him
with brooding eyes. When he had disappeared from view, she seated
herself on the doorstep and mused for a long time on the curious
adventures through which she had passed, and of which the end was not
yet come. She felt a great content over being thus alone, gladdened by a
sheer relief at the absence of the Doctor. She no longer felt any fear,
and presently she limped across to the bunk that had been prepared for
her, where she quickly fell asleep on Ichabod's blankets. When at last
she awoke, it was after a sound slumber of some hours, for the sun was
now high in the heavens. She found herself greatly refreshed, and a
desire came on her for the added refreshment of a plunge into the sea.
There was no sign of a human being anywhere within sight, so she
undressed and entered the water.
When her bath was ended, and she was again clothed, Ethel found a stick
to serve her as a cane, and with its aid made a halting ascent of one of
the sand dunes. She was surprised and pleased at the manifest
improvement in her ankle. There remained little pain, even when her
weight bore upon it in walking, and the swelling was greatly reduced, so
that she was able partly to button her shoe over it. From the crest of
the sand dune, she was able to look out over a wide expanse of the
waters all round-about.
To the eastward, she could see for miles out over the bosom of the
Atlantic. Far away in the distance, she saw a large steamer headed
toward the north. At sight of it, she was swept with a sick longing to
be on board, bound back to home and lover. Scattered over the surface of
the Sound were visible many small sails of the fishing boats, darting to
and fro, many skirting the shore. These were, however, located far away
to the southwest, miles distant from where she stood. It was evident
that, for the time being at least, there would be no opportunity to
signal for help. A sudden realization of hunger drove her back to the
shack.
Ethel gathered sticks from the shore for the rusty ramshackle stove. She
lighted them with matches brought from the tender. Soon she had water
boiling for coffee, and presently, with the remnants left from Mrs.
Goodwin's supply, the girl was able to make a meal that seemed
wonderfully savory to her sharpened appetite.
As the day lengthened, Ethel's mind busied itself with the problem of
finding a means to signal her presence. There was always the possibility
of the physician's failure to reach his destination. Prudence demanded
that she herself should make every effort possible for relief. From her
reading, she remembered how shipwrecked castaways in similar plight had
used a shirt or any white garment as a flag of distress. She saw a
net-pole lying on the strand, which, she believed, she could drag to the
top of the sand dune, in spite of her ankle's weakness. Her muslin
petticoat would serve as the banner. The idea no sooner presented itself
than she proceeded to its execution. The moving and the erection of the
heavy pole taxed her strength to the utmost, but it was at last
accomplished, and its white flag fluttered bravely in the light breeze.
Ethel looked with pride on her achievement, and dared to believe that
her father, could he have seen her now, would have praised her courage
and resourcefulness. She felt oddly like a soldier who has scaled the
wall in the face of the enemy, and planted his flag in triumph on the
rampart--though hers was a flag of truce. She surveyed her work
complacently, though every muscle was aching from long-continued digging
in the shifting sand with her bare hands and the tramping it into
firmness about the pole.
When again she glanced out over the Sound, Ethel saw off to the
northward a small skiff sailing toward her. Even at this distance, she
was sure that it was approaching her refuge. It was evident that her
signal had been seen. She sat down, and stared eagerly. She felt
suddenly faint in the reaction of joy over the prospect of rescue. Then,
a minute later, the castaway was forgotten in the woman. She hastily
pulled her signal banner from the pole, wadded it under her arm, and
hurried down the dune to the hut. Having accomplished its extraordinary
purpose so valiantly, the white flag should now disappear to perform its
ordinary useful service.
[Illustration: She sat down and stared eagerly.]
And as the signal banner came down, there sounded a clarion note, as if
of victory, from the crest of a neighboring sand dune. It was the
crowing of Shrimp, still bold to challenge the world.
But Ethel gave no heed to the bird that had been her companion for a
time in misfortune. It occurred to her that she ought not to go away
from this place in such fashion as to leave Doctor Garnet to worry over
her fate, should he return and find her gone. She decided that she would
offer her rescuers a sufficient payment to wait throughout the day for
his return, before taking their departure.
Now, the boat was putting in at some little distance up the shore. But
there could be no doubt that a landing was intended, for the little sail
had been lowered, and one of the men was sculling toward the beach with
an oar.