familiar, but decided the safest course would be to follow the marshy
creek, even thought it might take them longer to get home. Brad still
had the little map which he had sketched in his billfold. They studied
that, trying to figure out the most direct route back to Palmetto
Island.
“This creek swings round mighty close to Mangrove Island,” Kitty said
dubiously.
“That’s better than going too close to Terrapin Island.”
Acting upon their decision they picked up their oars again. They were
now moving against the force of the rising tide and found progress
slow. They made several elbow turns and eventually found themselves
close enough to Mangrove Island to make a landing, if they had so
desired.
“I’ve wanted to explore it ever since you boys told me about seeing the
boat in the mangroves on the other side,” Kitty said.
“No time to explore now,” Brad stated rather shortly. “If I ever get
you out of this saboteurs’ nest I’ll never bring you into the marshes
again—till the war’s over.”
Kitty laughed. “I’m not afraid, Brad. What’s there to be afraid of now?”
Even as she spoke there came a pinging sound, piercing and sharp above
the howl of the wind. Almost simultaneously Brad groaned and slapped
his hand to his shoulder as he toppled backward into the bottom of the
boat. The oar slipped from his limp fingers and bobbed off on the tide.
“Lie down, Kit! Lie down!” he ordered even as he fell.
“Brad, are you hurt?” she wailed.
With his right hand he seized her arm and pulled her to the bottom of
the boat beside him. The hand was wet with blood from the wound in his
shoulder.
“He got me all right. But keep low! Don’t lift your head above the
gunwale.”
Two more shots came whistling across the boat.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” stated Brad desperately.
Even if they had two oars to use Kitty knew it would be suicide to sit
up to row.
“I’ll start the motor,” she said.
On her stomach she wiggled toward the motor. At such a disadvantage she
wondered if she could get the engine going. But she must! There was no
other way for them to get away from that shower of lead.
“But you can’t see to steer,” said Brad. “We’ll go headlong into the
marsh.”
“We’ve got to take a chance. I have a general idea of the channel
beyond here—passed this way the other day when Billy and I came here.”
To Kitty’s infinite relief the starter responded to her touch. The
sound of that motor was only an invitation to more shots. This time
they were aimed low, evidently with the hope of puncturing the boat’s
side and hitting them as they crouched below the gunwale. But the lead
spattered harmlessly into the water.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“Brad, Are You Hurt?” Kitty Wailed_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
By holding the lower curve of the wheel, and watching the tree-lined
shore, Kitty could steer, and give the motor as much speed as she
dared. When they had gone several yards, and just after a fresh spatter
of lead struck their stern, she took a chance on lifting her eyes high
enough for a look ahead.
Three more shots trailed them, but fell short of the mark, and a few
minutes later they felt that they must be out of range. By the smudge
of smoke at their right Kitty knew they were now passing the dump pile,
with open, safer water ahead. Not until then did she dare give the boat
any real speed.
She glanced down and saw Brad’s face drawn and white at her feet. Blood
had run from his coat to the bottom of the boat. Kitty rose from her
crouching position and saw a sheltering arm of marshland ahead. When
she rounded this so the boat was hidden from Mangrove Island she cut
off her motor and bent over Brad. When she unbuttoned his coat she
found his shirt saturated with blood.
“A little lower and it would have gone through your heart,” she said
anxiously. “Wait, I’ll try to stop that blood.”
She was thankful her father always kept the launch prepared for
emergencies. They never went out without field glasses, flashlights, a
lantern, a jug of water, tins of food and a first-aid kit.
Her deft fingers cut away the bloody clothes. She cleaned the wound as
best she could, then bound it tightly to check the blood.
“You seem to know how to do it,” he said gratefully.
“I took two first-aid courses at school, but haven’t had much chance to
practice.”
“Hope you don’t have another chance like this any time soon,” he said
ruefully.
With the blood checked Brad struggled to a sitting position, his left
arm lying limp in his lap.
“You knew somebody was watching us before the shot came,” said Kitty
with conviction, recalling his sudden anxiety to have her safely home.
He nodded. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to frighten you. I
thought it might be somebody quite harmless.”
“Far from it!”
“Kit, I thought I saw the blue of a sailor’s uniform.”
“Oh, then it wasn’t Germans, hiding there till Beeson came back?”
“I may have been mistaken about the clothes, but anybody from the
island could have seen us watching Beeson go ashore at his dock.”
“That’s so,” Kitty admitted. “No doubt they have field glasses, too.”
“It wasn’t likely to be anybody from the U-boats. They’d take too much
risk coming ashore any time but at night.”
“A sailor’s uniform,” she repeated. “Could it have been Punaro?”
“It’s possible. Of course Cary wears blue, too.”
“But I thought you said Punaro always brought the stuff out here in the
early morning?”
“You forget this is Saturday afternoon. He’s off, too,” Brad reminded
her.
She realized then how ghastly white he had grown. His lips had a bluish
look, and he was trembling slightly in the chill wind. She was afraid
of shock from the loss of blood, and hurried back to her motor. She
must take him to the hospital as speedily as possible.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A CALLER IN THE DARK
By the time Kitty was in sight of the hospital the storm had reached
gale proportions, and even the inland, sheltered waterways were whipped
into tumbling whitecaps.
“Shall I go straight to the unloading dock behind the hospital?” she
asked.
“Against regulations. Nothing’s supposed to come ashore there but
supplies.”
She was afraid Brad couldn’t walk to the hospital from any of the small
landing docks farther east, but she decided he could wait in the boat
while she went to their house for the car.
“It’ll probably be better to go ashore somewhere else anyhow,” she told
him.
“Wish I didn’t have to go back to the hospital just now,” he said. “If
it gets around that I was shot in the marshes, Lieutenant Cary will be
sure to hear about it—may put a crimp in drawing a noose around the
criminals’ necks.”
“Why didn’t I think of that before?” said Kitty. “I’ll take you to our
house. Surely Dad will be back from town by the time we get there.
He’ll know what’s best to do.”
“I hate to be so much bother, but that does seem the most sensible
thing. You can phone Dr. Williams. He’s the closest friend I have among
the doctors. He’ll take care of the wound and keep his mouth shut, too.”
“Sure. That’s just what we’ll do.”
“I don’t have to report for duty till Monday. Nobody will get curious
about me till then.”
When Kitty turned the bend in the channel and rounded the point on
which the hospital stood, she thought she had never faced such a
howling gale. She glanced toward the island and saw that the hurricane
flag was flying.
Brad ducked his head and clung to the seat. Kitty anchored herself to
the wheel, and steered for the landing behind their cottage. Already
lights were twinkling along shore, though enough twilight lingered for
her to come in to the dock without too much uncertainty.
Never before had she attempted to make her moorings in such a choppy
sea. The stormy wind had forced the rising tide up rapidly. She was
glad of this for it would spare Brad a climb to the dock. She was
afraid the force of the storm would pound the launch against the
pilings, so she cut off their motor and with the remaining oar worked
toward the lee side of the dock. It took all her skill to make any
progress as she had to move straight into the teeth of the rushing wind
that swept diagonally across the island. Brad was powerless to help
her, for his one hand was needed to hold himself to the seat.
“Don’t try to help!” Kitty called to him, as he started to crawl
forward. “I’ll make it. The least little strain will start that place
bleeding again.”
In spite of her warning after Kitty got the boat close enough Brad
seized their line and tossed it deftly over a hook on the dock. The
rope creaked and the boat quivered at the sudden restriction.
“Can you make it up the ladder?” Kitty asked anxiously.
There were only three or four steps to climb, but even that would be a
strain on Brad in his weakened condition.
“Maybe you’d better go ahead and give me a hand,” he was forced to
admit. “Guess I’m no good.”
She hadn’t realized how weak he was until she tried to help him up that
ladder. She had to pull him by his good arm every step of the way. When
he reached the dock he collapsed at her feet. Desperately she glanced
toward the village, hoping for help, but the storm had evidently driven
everyone to shelter. A small boat battled the gale half way between
them and the hospital, but the howling wind would drown her call for
help.
She was afraid to leave him on the dock while she went for help. The
gale might grow strong enough any minute to sweep him into the water.
There was danger of opening the wound again if she tried to move him,
but she had no choice. Carefully she lifted his head against her knees,
locked her hands under his arms and dragged him down the dock to the
shelter of a twisted oak that grew on the shell bank.
She was already wet from the mist and spray and now rain came in a
sudden deluge. It mingled with the tears streaming down her cheeks as
she ran the block and a half to her home. With a thankful prayer she
saw that the lights were on. Jane, at least, must be there.
“Let me in!” she called, actually pounding the door with her fists.
Jane swung the door in almost at once. “Why, Miss Kitty, you looks like
a scarecrow!”
“Is Dad here?”
“Yas’m. He sho is, an’ he just about on he haid cause you ain’t come
home.”
Her father was pulling on his raincoat as he came out of his room.
“Why Kitty, what’s wrong? Why are you so late?”
“Dad, we couldn’t help it. Brad’s shot!”
“Shot?”
“From the marshes.”
“Where is he now?”
“I got him ashore here—but couldn’t bring him any farther.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _She Helped Him Across the Dock_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He’s not dead?”
“Oh, no! I mean I hope not. He must have fainted when I was helping him
to the dock. He lost so much blood.”
“Which dock?”
“Ours—behind the house.”
“I’ll get the car. You’d better come, too, Jane. I don’t want Kitty to
strain herself, helping me lift him.”
Billy was already in bed, so Mr. Carter closed the door softly. “He’ll
be all right. We’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll drop you two off
here before I take him on to the hospital.”
He hurried out to get the car and Kitty followed him saying, “But we
don’t want to take him to the hospital. He doesn’t want them to know.”
“What are you talking about, my child? That’s the place for him.”
“Not under the circumstances, Dad.”
Kitty tumbled into the car beside him, and Jane got into the back,
praying aloud excitedly. Mr. Carter started the motor and they raced
out the drive.
“Please do as I say, Dad,” persisted Kitty. “Just this once, Dad.
There’s no time to tell you everything, but we’ve learned things this
afternoon that may put a stop to all this awful business.”
Mr. Carter made no reply for a moment, grimly intent upon his driving
in the rain. Finally he said, “I’ve been a fool, Kitty, to let you go
ahead and get into something like this.”
Kitty was too miserable over Brad to pay much attention to her father’s
rebuke. “There, he’s under the oak yonder,” she directed, when they
turned the corner and raced down the block.
They found Brad had recovered consciousness, and was sitting with his
back propped against the tree trunk.
“So silly of me to check out,” he apologized when they approached him.
“I figured you’d gone for the car.”
“Think you can get in?” asked Mr. Carter.
“Sure,” Brad tried to make light of his weakness.
But he was a dead weight on Mr. Carter as he helped him to his feet.
“Guess you’ve lost a lot of blood, old boy. Where did they hit you?”
“Just under my shoulder blade. Kitty bound it up, but I’d spilled
plenty before she got a chance to do that.”
Kitty breathed easier when he was in the front seat beside her father.
She and Jane sat in the back. Nothing more was said until Mr. Carter
stopped the car in front of their house, instead of going into the
drive.
“Jane, you get out and stay with Billy. Kitty, you can come on up to
the hospital with us if you’d rather.”
There were tears in Kitty’s voice when she wailed, “But Dad, we don’t
want them to know about this at the hospital!”
“This is no time to think of such things, Kitty. It’s quite evident
Brad will need a blood transfusion. The hospital is the proper place
for that.”
When Jane got out and her father drove on toward the hospital Kitty
couldn’t keep the tears back. What a mess she had made of the whole
business! If she had known Brad must go to the hospital it would have
been so much easier to stop at the supply dock, regulations or no
regulations. Now everybody at the hospital would know, anyhow, that he
had been shot. How the talk would fly from mouth to mouth.
Even if Punaro wasn’t the guilty party he would learn about it. If he
was really in league with Beeson he, in turn, would get the facts, and
surmise that they had visited Terrapin Island again. In that event she
feared for Uncle Mose’s safety. But after all, she thought finally,
what did any of this matter compared with Brad’s welfare?
Her father had a stretcher brought down to take Brad to the emergency
room. As Kitty followed into the hospital she said, “Dad, if Brad’s
blood is type one I’ll be glad to give him blood for a transfusion.”
Her father turned and flashed her a smile. “Thanks, Kitten. But I think
we have a generous supply of all types here. I’ll go on to the
emergency room and see what his condition is.”
“Oh, Dad, I don’t think I can stand it if Brad dies. It’s all my fault.
I was the one who suggested going out there today.”
“Stop blaming yourself, my child, for everything that goes wrong!”
He took a key from his pocket. “Here’s the key to my office. Wait up
there where it’s quiet. I’ll come up later and tell you how Brad
is—and I want to hear all about what happened.”
Kitty was glad he had thought of this, for her wet clothes and troubled
face would certainly invite questions from any friends who might see
her. She hurried out to the wing and up the steps to the second floor,
instead of taking the elevator.
She had never been in the administrative wing at night when everyone
was off duty. There was light in only one office as she went down the
short hall on the upper floor. Strangely enough she felt more nervous
there than she had in the lonely marshes before the shooting. She was
tempted to turn back and go to Hazel’s room, but she knew that would
invite questions and call for explanations, for which she was in no
mood at the moment. In her father’s office she could be quiet to calm
herself after so much excitement and strain.
She unlocked the door and touched the light button. She crossed to her
father’s desk chair and sat down a moment. She felt she couldn’t live
through this interval while waiting to hear about Brad. To divert her
mind she reached for a book in a rack at the back of the desk. It
proved to be a medical tome, whose language seemed dry as dust to her
excited mind.
In the basket at the right of the desk were some addressed envelopes
and a stack of orders that had been made up and signed by her father,
but had not yet been mailed. Her eyes ran down the list of drugs and
supplies that had been ordered.
While sitting there she suddenly shivered, and realized her clothes
were wet through. Noticing one of her father’s coats hanging on a rack
in the corner, she put it on, and went to the big armchair near the
window. She took off her wet shoes and socks and tucked her feet under
her woollen skirt until they were warm.
The chair faced the window and as she sat there she recalled that her
father had pointed out the location of Mangrove Island from that very
window. How long ago it seemed! She wondered if Punaro, or whoever had
shot at them, was still out there.
Wind shook the window as it came howling in from the sea. The rain had
stopped, however, and Kitty wondered if she could see anything across
the marshes at night. She padded across the office on bare feet and
switched off the light. While her eyes became accustomed to the
darkness she sat on the window ledge peering out, wondering if the Nazi
spies would dare come ashore in such a storm to pick up their loot.
Would anyone be so foolhardy?
The night was impenetrably black under lowering clouds. She could see
nothing except the glow at the Marine Base to the east, and a few house
lights in the settlement around the hospital.
Then anxiety for Brad swept over her again. There was no use trying to
think of anything else. Unhappily she sank back into the leather chair.
She pulled her father’s coat closer about her, sat on her feet again
and was soon comfortably warm. The wind came in from the sea like giant
breakers rolling up a beach. It crashed against the big building, then
there would be a momentary lull before the next gust came. To Kitty’s
alarm, now that she paused to listen, each blast seemed worse than the
one that had just struck. As soon as she heard from Brad they would go
back to the cottage for Billy and Jane. She had been through too many
storms on the Gulf coast to feel safe in a small house on a night like
this.
Under the circumstances it didn’t seem possible she could have dozed,
but Kitty came to herself with a start at the sound of a key in the
door. Instantly she was on the alert. Her father had given her his key.
If it were he, she thought, he would have rapped and called to her to
let him in. Cautiously she crouched deeper in the leather chair.
As the door swung inward noiselessly she saw by the light from the hall
a tall familiar form step into the room. He closed the door softly,
then switching on a flash he moved quickly toward the desk. As the
flashlight circled about the desk top for a moment it tilted so that
reflected illumination struck the sneak’s face. Her surmise had been
correct; it was Lieutenant Cary.
In the dark corner the terrified girl watched breathlessly. Her eyes
were just above the chair back, as Cary examined the order blanks in
the large basket on the desk. Apparently finding what he wanted, he
took up the sheaf of papers and buttoned them under his coat.
Kitty was almost beside herself with terror. So it was really Cary who
did the underhand business that got both the Chief Pharmacist’s Mates
into trouble. She couldn’t let him get away with it. But what in the
world could she do in her defenseless position?
Lieutenant Cary was almost at the door when, without any premeditation,
Kitty found herself saying in the fiercest tone she could command,
“Don’t move another step, Lieutenant Cary, or I’ll shoot!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“Don’t Move or I’ll Shoot!”_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRAPPED
The instant Kitty made that threat she was appalled at her daring.
Lieutenant Cary might have a pistol and fire in her direction in the
darkness. Terrified she crouched in the chair. Cary didn’t move or
speak for what seemed an eternity. Then she heard an almost
imperceptible rattle of paper. He must be trying to slide those orders
from under his coat, to remove the evidence of his guilt.
“Leave those papers under your coat!” she ordered.
The paper rattling ceased. Then suddenly she caught the sound of
footsteps in the hall. It would do no good for her to scream and call
for help. Anyone passing down the hall was not likely to have a key
that would fit this door. She couldn’t forget that Cary might have a
gun. But would he dare use it with someone in hearing?
Kitty decided this was the best moment for action. Her bare feet made
no sound as she glided across the floor. If she could only reach the
door while someone else was near she might have a chance. Even after
having been in darkness for quite a while her dilated eyes could
distinguish little in the room. No doubt their surroundings were still
more veiled to Cary.
She had only reached the back of the desk when she heard a key slip
into the door lock. Relief flooded over her in a great wave, only to be
followed by stark terror at what Cary might do if her father came in
and found him here.
The door swung in and the light flashed up. Almost at the same moment
Cary hurled himself at Chief Carter. The impact was so completely
unexpected that Carter was thrown back against the partly open door,
and it closed with a bang.
“So, it’s you, Cary!” exclaimed Mr. Carter, even as he went down.
Kitty seized Cary’s coat as he made a lunge at her father. A moment
later she realized that someone, who had been coming here with her
father, had been shut out by the banging door. He was now pounding it
impatiently. Kitty sprang to open it, and a blue-uniformed officer,
whom she had never seen before, rushed to her father’s aid. Fortunately
he was armed, and a minute later had backed Cary into a corner. The
order sheets from Chief Carter’s desk had slipped from under the
physician’s coat and were scattered over the floor.
Her father got to his feet and faced the officer. “Well, Captain
Rogers, this is a bit of luck!”
The Captain laughed shortly, without shifting his gaze from Cary. “We
scarcely dared hope to catch him in the act.”
“I expect we’ll have to give credit for the catching to my daughter,”
replied Chief Carter, glancing proudly at Kitty.
“How did you manage it, young lady?” asked the severe-looking Captain.
Kitty thought how terrified she would be to face him at a trial. He had
the look of a man whose dealings with law-breakers had soured him on
the world.
“I must confess I didn’t do any managing,” Kitty admitted ruefully. “I
was sitting here waiting for Dad when in came Lieutenant Cary.”
“Waiting in the dark?” her father asked.
“I turned off the light to watch the storm—see what I could see
outside,” Kitty floundered.
“So—he didn’t realize anyone was in here?” asked the officer.
Kitty’s excited breath caught in her throat a moment before she could
explain, “He went straight to Dad’s desk with a flashlight, and picked
up those order sheets.” She pointed to the papers strewn over the
floor. “He stuffed them under his coat.”
“We must have come just as he did that,” surmised her father.
“No! It seemed an eternity. I told him not to move or I’d shoot.”
“But Kitty, you had no gun!” exclaimed her father. “Why do you take
such foolhardy chances, my child?”
“Then you came! I was going to try to get out the door while someone
was passing. I didn’t dare hope it was you.”
Though Captain Rogers hadn’t taken his eyes off Cary for a moment,
Kitty saw the shadow of a smile twitch around the straight lines of his
mouth. Then he spoke suddenly, “Mr. Carter, please phone Minger to come
up with some handcuffs. Our Lieutenant here looks like a volcano that
may erupt at any moment. No doubt it’s bitter for him to know he has
been caught by this alert young lady.”
Cary, at bay in the corner, seemed turned to stone. His baleful glances
had swept from one to the other as they spoke, but otherwise not a
muscle of his face changed to betray his real feelings. No doubt the
Nazis had trained him so well, that to die for the Fuehrer, in an
attempt to serve him, was a coveted sacrifice.
The Petty Officer with the handcuffs came up in an amazingly short
time, Kitty thought. He, too, was a stranger to her. When the irons had
been snapped over the physician’s wrists Captain Rogers said, “Take him
away, Minger. I’ll join you later.”
Lieutenant Cary’s head was held high as he walked out. His only act of
defiance was to step deliberately on the scattered order blanks.
Kitty could scarcely wait for the door to close before she asked, “Oh,
Dad, tell me about Brad. Is he going to be all right?”