It was the third morning after Cobb and Hugh had started for America,
that Marie Colchester, or, as she should be called, Marie Hathaway, had
said to Mollie:
"I wish I could see some of those peculiar contrivances which Mr. Cobb
used in his sepulchre, in San Francisco."
"And why may we not?" Mollie had returned. "He is away, and we can take
a peep into his room without a living soul but ourselves knowing it."
So it was that these two girls stole silently into Cobb's bedroom,
and noted, with feminine curiosity, every detail of a man's private
apartments.
With a guilty feeling, they opened bureau and chiffonier drawers,
peered into boxes, and finally opened the doors of the wardrobe.
None of the wonderful inventions for prolonging life, which they had
expected to find, were discernible. Then into the closet, to the left
of the bed, they looked. An old trunk, an iron box, some old boots, and
a bundle of clothing, were all that met their view.
"Humph! We haven't discovered much, Marie," dolefully exclaimed Mollie.
"Hugh's room looks just like this. Nothing but clothing, old boots and
shoes, and such traps," and she seized the old clothing in the corner,
and threw it disdainfully to the side of the closet.
"Hello! What's this?" she slowly exclaimed, as a hollow rod of copper
fell to the floor at her feet.
Stooping down, she cautiously picked it up and examined it. Marie was
looking over her shoulder, brought there by her exclamation.
"There's writing on it, Mollie!" Marie cried. "There; on the side!"
Mollie turned it over, and saw the words, dim and blurred by time:
"To Junius Cobb. Important!"
"In God's name, do not delay in opening this cylinder!"
With palpitating hearts and bated breath, the two girls stood with
their eyes glued upon the inscription. Finally, Mollie, in a solemn
voice, said to her companion:
"Junius has never seen this. It has been mislaid. It is our duty to
send it to him at once."
"But you do not know where they will go from America," referring to
Hugh and Cobb.
"True," sadly. "We may not see them for a week or more. What shall we
do?" in a tone of inquiry.
"Why, put it where he will see it when he returns," answered Marie, as
if there was no doubt of the propriety of the action.
"But it says not to delay in opening it," persisted Mollie.
"Yes," slowly; "it does." Then, after a pause: "Why not open it,
Mollie? Maybe we may become like the good genii in the fairy tales, who
always helped the poor, unfortunate prince who was about to lose his
sweetheart."
"Oh, I dare not," and Mollie shook her head.
"But you must; we cannot leave it now," the other returned.
"But dare I?"
It was evident that Mollie's curiosity would overcome her scruples.
"Of course, you dare. We may do some good. At least," hesitatingly, "it
will do no harm to see what that cylinder contains."
So they argued the point, and finally left the room bearing the
cylinder with them.
An hour later, in the sanctity of Mollie's bedroom, and with the aid of
a file which she had procured, the cylinder was opened. From it Mollie
drew forth, cautiously, and with a sense of fear, a tightly-rolled
paper. The cylinder was only half an inch in diameter by ten inches
in length, and the rolled paper, when spread out, was simply a letter
containing a few words, yet with writing as fresh as if spread upon its
surface only a short time since.
With heads together, and wonder in their hearts, they read:
"To you, Junius Cobb, is ordained the task of freeing from a
living tomb a woman of rare beauty and angelic disposition of
heart. Lose not a moment! A delay of a day will cost you a year of
sorrow! Hasten to your duty, and God be with you! On the island of
Guadalupe, in the Pacific Ocean, in latitude 29 degrees 15 minutes
north, and longitude 41 degrees 16 minutes west, is entombed a
woman whose return to life may gladden your heart, or be a curse
to your existence. Listen, and heed well these instructions: From
the town of Noniva, on the island, travel southwest, nineteen
miles, to the deep canyons of the dry fork of the Ninta River;
pass up this fork until you come to a tall and slender rock which
the superstitious natives have named the 'Finger of God.' Set your
chronometer with the exact time of the meridian, and when your time
shall indicate the hour of four o'clock in the afternoon of January
6th, note carefully the spot where the shadow of the 'Finger of
God' rests on the gray, steep rock of the eastern side of Ninta
Creek. Along a shelving ledge on the face of the cliff, pass to
the spot and look for the two letters 'J. C.,' cut in the wall.
Into the lower point of the letter J, which will show a small hole,
drive a steel rod until twenty inches have passed into the rock. A
door of solid granite will open, and you will be at the mouth of a
cavern. Enter, and learn the rest."
A feeling of awe came over the hearts of the two girls, as they read
this weird communication. Again and again they read the letter, and
pondered long over its contents.
"What does it mean?" gasped Marie.
But Mollie was of a more practical turn of mind. She saw it to be an
order for the deliverance of a human being--a woman. Casting aside her
feelings of superstition which the reading of the letter had at first
inspired, she commenced to debate in her mind what was the true meaning
of the instructions so minutely given. Taking the letter again in her
hand, she carefully read it over.
"Ah! this letter is very old!" she exclaimed; then pointing her
delicate finger to a line, she cried: "Do you see that? 'four o'clock
in the afternoon,' it says. It has been years and years since the time
of day has been designated as 'o'clock.' This paper must be very old!"
"Yes; it must be very old," agreed Marie, in a low voice, reverently
looking at the letter.
"And here! this must be important! The shadow must be seen on January
6th of any year," and she again read the letter. "Junius must go at
once, or another year will have to be passed before a trial can be
made." Then, musing a moment, she exclaimed: "It is even less time than
I thought, for if this paper is as ancient as we believe, then January
6th is really January 5th, for in old times, New-Year's-Day was January
1st."
"Yes?" from Marie.
"Yes," sadly. "It is plain that we cannot get word to Junius in time
for him to reach Guadalupe by that day." Then starting up with fire in
her eye, she cried: "Why not make the attempt ourselves?"
"Oh!" prolonged, and in amazement, by Marie. "We dare not!"
"And why dare we not, Miss Timidity?" retorted Mollie, scornfully.
"Because we are only poor, weak women; it would take men, great, big
men, to perform this terrible task."
"Oh, pshaw! you are a timid little mouse; that's what you are, Marie
Hathaway. I am going to rescue this woman, and you are going with me,"
grandly. "Now, don't say a word," as the other attempted to speak. "You
go immediately and get everything ready for our journey; we will leave
for San Diego to-night, at 19 dial, for I remember that San Diego is in
latitude 33, or thereabouts; and that should be the place from which to
take a lipthalener."
"Truly, Mollie?" with a look of consternation in her eyes.
"Yes; truly! Now, Marie; have some courage. Will you go with me and aid
me? or must I go alone?" and she put her arms lovingly about the girl's
waist.
"If you really and truly mean it, dear Mollie, I will do as you wish,
and go with you; but it's an awful undertaking," shaking her head.
Thus was it decided by these two young women to go thousands of miles
to an unknown island, seek the location of an isolated cavern, and
bring back to life the prisoner therein entombed.
An hour after, and Mollie came into the library, where her father was
engaged in writing. Stealing softly up to him, she put her plump white
arms about his neck, and kissed his forehead reverently.
"What is it now, pet?" he said, laying down his pen.
"Father, dear; I wish to visit aunt Lora in San Francisco; can I go?"
looking him in the eyes.
"Why, yes; I suppose so. You may go next week if you can get ready."
"Not next week, papa. I want to go to-night; on the Central Pneumatic."
"What?" he exclaimed. "To-night! And why this haste, my daughter?" and
he gave her a deep, searching look.
"Father, have I been a good, true daughter to you?" and her deep blue
eyes looked straight into his.
"In truth you have, my daughter," and he kissed her cheek, so close to
his lips.
"Then, my dear father, I beg of you one great kindness, one great
confidence in my sincerity, honesty, and truthfulness. Grant me
permission to go West to-night with Marie Colchester; grant me a short
time to remain, give me a thousand dollars, and ask me not to tell you
the reasons for my strange request and actions."
"My daughter, this is very strange!" and he arose from his chair, took
her hands in his, and drew her toward him. His eyes looked into hers
with an earnest expression. Steadily, and with an honest eye, she
returned his gaze.
"Do you, indeed, make this request?" he slowly added.
"Father, I do," she replied.
"Answer me one question. Has Lester Hathaway any connection with this
undertaking?"
"As God sees me, he has not," she firmly replied.
"My daughter, you shall go as you desire, and may God watch over you.
Now see your mother and inform her, and then prepare for your journey."
She again kissed him, and left the room.
At 19 dial the two girls, clad in traveling-dresses, and with grips in
their hands, entered the depot, and were soon cozily ensconced in the
fourth sleeper of the Central Pneumatic, No. 5, west.
"What will Lester say when he does not find me in the conservatory
to-night?" sighed Mollie.
"And what will Hugh say when he returns and finds me gone?" and another
deep sigh could have been heard.
"But I left a letter for him," with a sly glance toward the other.
"And I left a note for Hugh," glancing toward Mollie. Their eyes met,
and a smile lighted up both faces.
"Oh! you did?" from Mollie.
"Ah! you did?" retorted Marie.
On rushed the train. Miles upon miles were left behind them, and the
hours sped by. They should be at El Paso at 6:30 dial the next morning,
and at San Diego at 10 dial. It would be nearly 11 dial before they
would be able to search for a vessel to take them to Guadalupe.
The time was passing, and it was with a troubled mind that Mollie
surveyed the route and the time at her command. With beating hearts,
the two girls watched the hours pass as the train rushed along to the
Pacific; eagerly did they look for the approach of the city by the sea.
It was 12 dial when the train reached the city of San Diego. Quickly
disembarking, the girls entered a drag, and were rapidly propelled
to the Great Pacific. Once within the office of the hotel, Mollie
excitedly asked for information as to what lipthaleners were in the
port.
"None, madame," was the calm reply of the clerk. Her heart sank within
her bosom at the words. "There are none but sailing vessels in the
harbor; will madame have use for one of them?" continued the man,
noticing her agitation.
"No; and yes--I cannot tell. Show us a room and serve breakfast there,
and at once," was the impatient reply.
During their breakfast, the two girls discussed the situation, but
without arriving at any solution as to how they would reach Guadalupe
Island.
Having partaken of a light repast, they proceeded to the docks to find
some means of transportation to the island. Not a lipthalener was
in port, and but few sailing vessels. To her inquiries, Mollie was
informed that the island was 120 leagues southwest, and no sailing
vessel could make the voyage in less than three days, with the best of
winds; and that the chances were that it would take five.
Disheartened, she and Marie turned back to the hotel.
Fate was against them, and they would not be able to rescue the
imprisoned girl ere another year had come and passed. Would the woman
live through another year? Would she not die, if yet alive? _Was_ she
yet alive? Such were the questions Mollie asked herself.
Often and often she went out on the porch, and scanned the horizon for
the approach of a lipthalener.
Sixteen dial came, and found poor Mollie in a fever of anxiety. If no
lipthalener came into port before 20 dial, her case was hopeless. It
was 350 miles to Guadalupe Island, and she must be there at 10 dial the
next day, in order to have sufficient time to reach Ninta Creek and
make her preparations. Discouraged, she sat and buried her face in her
hands, while Marie, in sympathy, put her arms about her, and tried to
comfort the sinking heart.
Hark! What was that sound? Like a flash of lightning, Mollie was on her
feet.
"Did you hear it, Marie?" she cried, excitedly.
"Yes; what was it?" the other replied with equal excitement.
"There! there! Do you hear it? There it is again!" and the girl danced
for very joy.
The hoarse, rolling sound of a marine whistle was plainly heard by both.
"A lipthalener! A lipthalener!" they both cried, and rushed out on to
the porch.
Coming around the fortress point was a magnificent cruiser of about
3,000 tons. Her black hull and raking, yardless masts proclaimed
her calling; the flag at the peak, the glorious stars and stripes,
proclaimed her nationality. Off the lower dock, and a half-mile from
it, she came to anchor, and her great hull swung around with the tide.
"Come, Marie; no time is to be lost!" and Mollie rushed into the
parlor, seized her hat, and quickly made her way to the dock.
For a dollar, a boatman gladly took them in his little craft, and rowed
to where the lipthalener lay quietly at her anchors.
"Ahoy! On deck! Is the captain on board?" cried the boatman, as he held
off by a hook against the side of the big vessel.
"You'll think so, you lubber, if he sees that hook in his vessel,"
came the response from the port bows. "Heave off and lie to, and I'll
report," and the man and voice disappeared.
A moment after, a man in the uniform of the United States navy,
appeared at the companion-way and cried:
"Ahoy! What's wanted?"
"Two ladies wish to come aboard and speak to the captain, sir," replied
the boatman, touching his hat in a nautical fashion.
"Very well. Heave to on the starboard side."
A few minutes later Mollie and Marie were in the captain's cabin of the
San Francisco, and had asked its commander to take them to Guadalupe
Island.
"But, ladies," replied Captain Gordon, a bluff but kind-hearted old
gentleman of fifty-five years, "this is rather an unusual request
upon the United States navy, and comes from a very unusual source;
yes, a very unusual source indeed, but a very charming source, I must
confess," and he bowed gallantly to the two girls.
"I know it, Captain; but the case is one of life or death: I must be in
Guadalupe Island at 10 dial to-morrow." Mollie looked beseechingly at
him as she spoke.
"I wish I could accommodate you, ladies; but I fear it is impossible."
Mollie's heart almost ceased to throb as she heard these words.
"I am here for dispatches," continued the captain, "and expect to
leave for San Francisco to-morrow morning."
"But," pleaded Mollie, "it will only take a half-day to make the run--"
"And a half-day back again," interrupted the captain, "is a whole day.
Why, my children, I might be court-martialed if I were to do this
thing."
"But, if I promise that you not only will not be court-martialed, but
will receive the commendation of the President, and the Secretary of
the Navy, will you go?"
"If you could guarantee this, ladies, why, damn me!--I beg your
pardon--I would do it, just to please two such lovely girls as honor my
cabin by their presence to-day; but, of course, you cannot do it."
"But I can!" cried Mollie, "and your promise is given. I am Miss Mollie
Craft, the President's daughter: in his name, I guarantee approval of
your action."
The beautiful girl arose from her chair, and stood proudly before the
old sailor.
Without moving a muscle of his face, Captain Gordon slowly said:
"Pardon me, ladies, but any woman could have uttered those words."
Crushed, and with a sinking feeling at her heart, Mollie nearly fell at
his feet. He doubted her, and she had nothing to prove her identity.
Deliberately came the words:
"Have you anything to prove your relationship to the President?"
"Alas, nothing!" she cried, and the tears filled her eyes.
"No letter in which you are recognized?" he kindly asked.
Ah! Stay! Hope again rose within her soul. Quickly thrusting her
hand into her pocket, she drew out a letter. Nervously she broke the
seal, and glanced over its contents. A ray of sunshine came into her
tear-bedimmed eyes, her bosom heaved for a moment, and then she became
calm. Handing the letter to the captain, she said:
"The letter is to my aunt, in San Francisco, and was written by my
father just before my departure."
Captain Gordon took the letter, and, instantly recognizing the
executive heading, slowly read:
"WASHINGTON, January 3, 2001.
"DEAR LORA:
* * * * *
"She is the only daughter I have, sister, and you must watch over
her carefully. We cannot afford to lose our Mollie.
* * * * *
"Affectionately, your brother,
"EMORY D. CRAFT."
As he finished reading the letter, Captain Gordon rose from his chair,
advanced toward Mollie, and extended his hand.
"You will pardon my doubts, will you not, Miss Craft?" he asked; "but
men in official positions must protect themselves. I no longer doubt
your identity; the San Francisco is at your command," and he bowed low
to her.
"I thank you, Captain Gordon, and you will not lose by this kind act."
Mollie's eyes were again flowing with tears, but now tears of joy.
"When do you desire to start, Miss Craft?"
"At once," she cried.
"Return, then, dear ladies, and get your effects. I will leave the port
in half an hour."
Thirty minutes sped by, and Mollie and Marie were again on board the
San Francisco. Then came the orders to weigh anchor, much to the
astonishment of all the crew, and the vessel moved slowly toward the
fortress at the point of the harbor.
As the San Francisco approached the north water battery, the sound of a
gun was heard, and the flag on the battery-staff was dipped twice, then
a red streamer was run up the staff, and a boat put off from the mole.
"Hard aport, Mr. Navigator, and stop the ship," cried the captain, who
was standing on the bridge by the side of Mollie, who had been invited
there as the commander of the vessel for a day.
Slowly the great ship ceased on her course, and awaited the little
craft, which came rushing through the water, propelled by a lipthalene
screw.
"The dispatch boat, sir," said the officer of the deck, touching his
cap.
"So I perceive," returned the captain. "You will receive the dispatches
and cast her off, as we must not delay."
"Very well, sir;" and the officer again saluted, and passed to the
companion-way.
A moment later the dispatches had been received, and handed to Captain
Gordon. Breaking the port seal, he read the dispatch; then, hesitating
a moment, he handed it to Mollie, and noted the sudden paleness of her
face as she slowly reached forth her hand and took it.
With a feeling of impending evil, she read the paper:
"WASHINGTON, January 4, 15 D.
"_To Captain Gordon, U. S. L. San Francisco, San
Diego, Cal._
"(Due at and hold.)
"Proceed to San Francisco at once. Make no delays.
C. SCOFIELD,
"_Secretary of Navy_."
With a beating heart and a quivering lip, the girl handed it back.
"And you will obey this order?" she slowly asked.
"It is imperative," he replied.
Almost out of the harbor, almost away from the chance of a telegram,
she had become happy and cheerful once more. Now it was changed: this
man would not dare, no matter how she prayed, to violate such an order.
Bursting into tears, a woman's resource to relieve her overcharged
heart, she looked into his face, and again asked:
"And you will obey these instructions?"
"Damn it; no! I--pardon me, I--I--well, damn it! the course of this
vessel will not be changed; she goes to Guadalupe Island. There!"
blowing as if from some great exertion, and wiping his forehead in
a vigorous manner. "If they dismiss me from the service for it, you
shall perform your mission on that island," and the good old man walked
to the extremity of the bridge to hide his agitation, and escape the
thanks which Mollie was about to shower upon him.
The sea was rough, and the southwest winds blowing a small gale, a
combination that told on the speed of the San Francisco, swift as she
was. The 350 miles became nearly 450, and it was not until 4 dial the
next day, that anchors were cast in the harbor of Noniva, Guadalupe
Island.
Mollie Craft had had a long conversation with the ship's surgeon, Dr.
Town, the day previous, and had shown him the mysterious letter, and
asked his assistance; the doctor had readily consented to aid her by
all means in his power.
Captain Gordon gave Mollie until 20 dial to return to the vessel before
shaping his course for San Francisco.