A NIGHT OF DESPAIR
Agnes Kenway was as light-footed as a deer. She ran as hard as she could
around the slope of the hill on which the big palm grew, and thence down
into the green wood. She shouted as she ran and soon heard Neale O’Neil
reply.
“What’s broken loose, Aggie?” demanded the boy, as soon as she came into
view of the waterhunting party.
“That’s exactly what has happened, Neale,” she returned, in accents
which assured both Neale and the others that she was quite in earnest.
“Something has broken away! The Isobel!”
Mr. Howbridge came running with Luke. The lawyer’s face was white, for
he had heard the girl’s statement.
“You don’t mean that the boat is gone?” he cried.
“So Ruthie says. She is sure,” choked Agnes. “We saw it from up there on
the hill.”
Luke and Neale at once dashed away, climbing the hillside with great
leaps. But Agnes remained with her guardian.
“We had just found a spring. A good one, too,” murmured the troubled
gentleman. “Well, perhaps that is a good thing. If the boat has really
drifted away.”
“Oh! It has! It has!” cried the girl. “Everything bad is happening to
us. I wish we were at home at the Corner House again.”
“Tut, tut! That is no way to talk,” said Mr. Howbridge, and took her arm
as they started in an easterly direction again.
They had not gone far when the two young fellows returned. Both of them
looked grave, and Luke said quickly:
“You can’t fool Ruthie. She is always right. That is the _Isobel_ out
there and she’s all of two miles away already.”
“She’ll run right into one of those small islands and be wrecked,” said
Neale. “Say, Mr. Howbridge! Isn’t this a pretty pickle?”
The party hurried on toward their camp, but they could not overtake
Ruth. It was not until they passed the tent that Neale said:
“Wonder where Tess and Dot are? Seen ’em lately, Aggie?”
“Why, they must be with Ruth.”
“But there is Ruth now,” cried Luke, increasing his stride. “I don’t see
the children with her.”
“Truly, the _Isobel_ has drifted away,” muttered Mr. Howbridge, as they
now came in sight of the inlet and the place where the crippled
motor-boat had been moored.
The younger people, however, made him no reply. They had suddenly lost
interest in the matter of the boat. They were all gazing at Ruth Kenway.
Her attitude, as she stood on a high bowlder at the edge of the water,
looking off upon the sea, was almost tragic.
Luke bounded ahead at last, reaching the girl much in advance of the
others.
“Ruth! Ruth!” he exclaimed. “What is it? Tess—Dot——”
Her hands were clasped tightly against her breast. She did not turn or
even look down at him. But her lips moved stiffly and he heard what she
said:
“Luke! They are out there! My darling children—my little sisters that I
promised mother when she died I would always take care of! Oh, Luke!
They are gone—gone!”
He sprang up then beside the girl. It was well he did so, for she
wavered and would have fallen had his arm not been around her.
“Ruth! Ruth!” shrieked Agnes, now flying over the sands to the rocky
shore. “They are not on the boat? Oh, they _can’t_ be!”
Mr. Howbridge was aroused to the seriousness of the happening. The
disappearance of Tess and Dot was a tragedy that dwarfed altogether the
loss of the motor-boat.
“I saw them! I saw them!” panted Ruth, lying in Luke’s arms for the
moment. “They waved something on a stick. I think it was Tess’ skirt.
But the boat is too far away now for you to see it.”
“And not a thing to follow them in,” muttered Neale.
Agnes put a quick palm over his mouth. Thoughtless as the flyaway sister
usually was, she realized at this moment the feelings that racked her
sister. For Ruth had been responsible for the safety of the little ones,
and Agnes knew that nothing could be said to make the older girl forget
that fact.
The sun was fast declining. They all knew that the twilight would be
short. Indeed, nightfall in the tropics is almost sudden enough to scare
one. The last ray of the sun disappears and in an instant it would seem
it is velvety dark and the stars pop out!
It did not seem possible that they could do anything to help or to
follow Tess and Dot; in any case, not at night. The boat was so far away
that they could merely distinguish it as a black-red blotch upon the
ocean, where the departing rays of the sun touched the moving object.
The children were too small to be seen, even had they stood upon the
decked-over forward part of the _Isobel_. They were, of course, in the
cockpit or in the cabin. All alone upon the ocean! The thought smote the
others as well as Ruth Kenway with horror and alarm.
They stood there on the rocks, staring seaward. Not a craft was in sight
save the drifting _Isobel_. It was a lonely stretch of water, with
perhaps half a dozen small islands in sight. The lost craft might be
drifting toward another strand, or it might pass right out between the
islands and go to sea. For Neale’s chart portrayed the fact that beyond
this group of the Tortugas, the islands where the pirates used to careen
their schooners and scrape their hulls of barnacles, was the tropical
Atlantic Ocean.
It was a hopeless group indeed on Palm Island. Perhaps more hopeless and
unhappy than the two little girls themselves who were the object of so
much solicitude. It was true that Dot had cried a little, but she had
the Alice-doll with her, and was soon comforted. Tess, from her very
nature, was likely to consider the situation more interesting than
threatening.
Here was a chance for Tess to take the lead; and she certainly loved to
“boss.” Dot was quite ready to sit down and allow her older sister to
arrange matters. That was by far the easier way. Then, if things went
wrong, there was always Tess to be blamed.
The older sister assumed responsibility with the joy of an oyster
imbibing sea-water. She immediately became possessed of the idea that
she really might do something to aid in their difficulty. They were
afloat on rather a big ocean, as far as she could see, and without means
of propelling the _Isobel_ in any way the current did not go;
nevertheless, Tess took the wheel, as she had seen Mr. Howbridge and the
boys do, and proceeded to “steer” the motor-boat on her course.
“Why don’t you turn it around and make it run back to Plam Island
again?” Dot wanted to know with what might have been considered sarcasm
from an older person.
“Now, you know very well that the engine isn’t running,” said Tess, “And
so the propellers aren’t making any splatter in the water. So we could
not make her go back to the island. The tide will carry us—carry us——”
“Well, where’s it going to carry us?” Dot demanded, a good deal more
efficient as a question-asker than a question-answerer.
“Now, Dorothy Kenway!” exclaimed Tess, very self-important, “I wish you
would not sit there and ask such things. I am no better acquainted
around here than you are.”
“There’s an island,” said Dot, standing up to look ahead.
“Yes, I see there is. Perhaps this boat wants to go there. I am sure I
would just as lief be on land as out here in this boat.”
“Suppose—suppose there is somebody on that island?” quavered Dot.
“Wouldn’t be any harm in that.”
“Or something to hurt us? A big, big——”
“Turtle,” finished Tess practically. “That Mr. Methuselah didn’t really
hurt you, Dot, if he did start to run off with you. You can look where
you are sitting, next time, can’t you?”
“Well, I hope Neale O’Neil or somebody will come after us,” sighed Dot.
Suddenly Tess became very thoughtful. She exclaimed:
“Why, they won’t know we are in this boat at all! They can’t see us over
the sides. Here, Dot! You take this steer-a-ma-jig.”
“I don’t believe, Tess Kenway, that does any good,” said Dot. “The boat
goes just where it wants to, anyway.”
This very sensible statement rather annoyed Tess. But she was in
earnest. She found a boathook and hurried to remove her skirt, which was
plaid with much red in it. This she fastened to the rusty hook and set
it up in the stern of the _Isobel_. As a flag of distress it was a good
deal better than nothing.
Then Tess went back to the steering wheel. She did not, herself, see
that what she did to it made any difference; but one must do something.
She looked ahead at the island which the bow of the motor-boat was aimed
for. The current that had seized the drifting boat undoubtedly laved the
shore of this island, which was not, as Tess could see, half the size of
Palm Island. There was a goodly group of palm trees on it, but the white
beach, as far as the little girls could see it, was very narrow.
In fact, it was a true coral island, built entirely by the coral
insects. Sand had been washed upon the coral reefs by the sea until the
soil was raised slightly above the surface of the water. Birds had
brought and dropped seeds of tropical plants here. The waves had washed
ashore logs and other refuse to decay and aid in forming a crust of
friable soil.
Thus, in thousands and thousands of years, had grown up the island. Ruth
had told Tess and Dot all about the formation of such bits of land, and
the little girls had been much interested in the story. Now, in the
fast-dimming evening light, they watched the green and white edge of the
little island the boat was approaching with some uncertainty in the mind
of Tess as well as of Dot.
If they did bump into that island what was in store for them?
“I—I guess,” said Tess, finally, “we’d better go downstairs into the
cabin and go to bed; and—and—let her bump.”