MAROONED
To each of these three young people this was the most surprising moment
which life had yet afforded. It was an astonishing thing to find a fellow
mortal there at all, but to find that mortal was the Scarhaven estate
agent was literally short of marvellous. What was also astounding was to
see Chatfield's only too evident distress. Swathed in a heavy,
old-fashioned ulster, with a plaid shawl round his shoulders and a
deerstalker hat tied over head and ears with a bandanna handkerchief he
sat on the beach nursing his knees, slightly rocking his fleshy figure to
and fro and moaning softly with the regularity of a minute bell. His eyes
were fixed on the dark expanse of waters at his feet; his lips, when he
was not moaning, worked incessantly; as he rocked his body he beat his
toes on the shingle. Clearly, Chatfield was in a bad way, mentally. That
he was not so badly off materially was made evident by the presence of a
half-open kit bag which obviously contained food and a bottle of spirits.
For any notice that he took of them, Audrey, Vickers, and Copplestone
might have been no more than the pebbles on which they stood. In spite of
the fact that Vickers shone the light on his fat face, and that three
inquisitive pairs of eyes were trained on it, Chatfield continued to
stare moodily and disgustedly out to sea and to take no notice of his
gratuitous company. And so utterly extraordinary was his behaviour and
attitude that Audrey suddenly and almost involuntarily stepped forward
and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Chatfield!" she exclaimed. "What 's the matter? Are you ill?"
The emphasis which she gave to the last word roused some quality of
Chatfield's subtle intellect. He flashed a swift look at his
questioner--a look of mingled contempt and derision, spiced with a dash
of sneering humour. And he found his tongue.
"Ill!" he snorted. "Ill! She asks if I'm ill--me, a respectable man
what's maltreated and robbed before his own eyes by them as ought to fall
in humble gratitude at his feet! Ill!--aye, ill with something that's
worse nor any bodily aches and pains--let me tell you that! But not done
for, neither!"
"He's all right," said Copplestone. "That's a flash of his old spirit.
You're all right, Chatfield, aren't you? And who's robbed and maltreated
you--and how and when--especially when--did you come here?"
Chatfield looked up at his old assailant with a glare of dislike.
"You keep your tongue to yourself, young feller!" he growled. "I
shouldn't never ha' been here at all if it hadn't been for the likes of
you--a pokin' your nose where it isn't wanted. It's 'cause o' you three
comin' aboard o' that there yacht last night as I am here--a castaway!"
"Well, we're castaways, too, Mr. Chatfield," said Audrey. "And we can't
help believing that it's all your naughty conduct that's made us so. Why
don't you tell the truth?"
Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds.
"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that--as I will," he
muttered presently. "Oh aye, I 'll tell the truth--when it suits me! But
I'll be out o' this first."
"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you
got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us
all about it, you know. Come now!--you know me and my firm."
Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head.
"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said
naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil
tongue in your mouth--I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off
this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office,
and I'll make somebody suffer!"
"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore
before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?"
"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chatfield. "I was feeling very
cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going--revenge!
I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place--I will so!"
"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is?
What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we?
It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to
get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?"
The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about
him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the
yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came
from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was
going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which
came in regular pulsations through the night.
"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole
neither--I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are!
And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and
perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred
miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there
Marconi and his wireless in the world--oh, no! Just you wait, my fine
fellers--that's all!"
"He's not addressing us, Vickers," said Copplestone. "You're decidedly
better, Chatfield--you're quite better. The notion of revenge and of
circumvention has come to you like balm. But you'd a lot better tell us
who you're referring to, and why you were put ashore. Listen,
Chatfield!--there's property of your own on that yacht, eh? That it?
Come, now?"
Chatfield gave his questioner a look of indignant scorn. He stooped for
the kit-bag, picked it up, and turned away.
"I don't want to have naught to do with you," he remarked over his
shoulder. "You keep yourselves to yourselves, and I'll keep myself to
myself. If it hadn't been for what you blabbed out last night, them
ungrateful devils 'ud never have had such ideas put into their heads!"
As if he knew his way, Chatfield plodded heavily up the beach and was
lost in the darkness, and the three left behind stood helplessly staring
at each other. For a long time there was silence, broken only by the
agent's heavy tread on the shingle--at last Vickers spoke.
"I think I can see through all this," he said. "Chatfield's cryptic
utterances were somewhat suggestive. 'Robbed'--'maltreated'--'them as
ought to have fallen in humble gratitude at his feet'--'vengeance'--
'revenge'--'Marconi telegrams'--'ungrateful devils'--ah, I see it!
Chatfield had associates on the _Pike_--probably the impostor himself
and Andrius--probably, too, he had property of his own, as you suggested
to him, Copplestone. The whole gang was doubtless off with their loot to
far quarters of the globe. Very good--the other members have shelved
Chatfield. They've done with him. But--not if he knows it! That man will
hunt the _Pike_ and her people--whoever they are--relentlessly when he
gets off this."
"I wish we knew what it is that we're on!" said Copplestone.
"Impossible till daybreak," replied Vickers. "But I've an idea--this is
probably one of the seventy-odd islands of the Orkneys: I've sailed round
here before. If I'm right, it's most likely one of the outlying and
uninhabited ones. Andrius--or his controlling power--has dropped us--and
Chatfield--here, knowing that we may have to spend a few days on this
island before we succeed in getting off. Those few days will mean a great
deal to the _Pike_. She can be run into some safe harbourage on this
coast, given a new coat of paint and a new name, and be off before we can
do anything to stop her. I allow Chatfield to be right in this--that my
perhaps too hasty declaration to Andrius revealed to that gentleman how
he could make off with other people's property."
"Nothing will make me believe that Andrius is the solely responsible
person for this last development," said Copplestone, moodily. "There were
other people on board--cleverly concealed. And what are we going to do?"
Audrey had stepped away from the circle of light made by the lanthorn and
was gazing steadily in the direction which Chatfield had taken.
"Those are cliffs, surely," she said presently. "Hadn't we better go up
the beach and see if we can't find some shelter until morning?
Fortunately we're all warmly clad, and Andrius was considerate enough to
throw rugs and things into the boat, as well as provisions. Come
along!--after all, we're not so badly off. And we have the satisfaction
of knowing that we can keep Chatfield under observation. Remember that!"
But in the morning, when the first gleam of light came across the sea,
and Vickers, leaving his companions to prepare some breakfast from the
store of provisions which had been sent ashore with them, set out to make
a first examination of their surroundings, the agent was not to be seen.
What was to be seen was a breach of rock, sand, shingle, not a mile in
length, lying at the foot of high cliffs, and on the grey sea in front
not a sign of a sail, nor a wisp of smoke from a passing steamer. The
apparent solitude and isolation of the place was as profound as the
silence which overhung everything.
Vickers made his way up the cliffs to their highest point and from its
summit took a leisurely view of his surroundings. He saw at once that
they were on an island, and that it was but one of many which lay spread
out over the sea towards the north and the west. It was a wedge-shaped
island this, and the cliffs on which he stood and the beach beneath
formed the widest side of it; from thence its lines drew away to a point
in the distance which he judged to be two miles off. Between him and that
point lay a sloping expanse of rough land, never cultivated since
creation, whereon there were vast masses of rock and boulder but no sign
of human life. No curling column of smoke went up from hut or cottage;
his ears caught neither the bleating of sheep nor the cry of
shepherd--all was still as only such places can be still. Nor could he
perceive any signs of life on the adjacent islands--which, to be sure,
were not very near. From the sea mists which wrapped one of them he saw
projecting the cap of a mountainous hill--that hill he recognized as
being on one of the principal islands of the group, and he then knew that
he and his companions had been set down on one of the outlying islands
which, from its position, was not in the immediate way of passing vessels
nor likely to be visited by fishermen.
He was turning away from the top of the cliff after a long and careful
inspection, when he caught sight of a man's figure crossing the rocky
slope between him and this far-off point. That, he said to himself, was
Chatfield. Did Chatfield know of any place at that point visited by
fishing craft from the other islands? Had Chatfield ever been in the
Orkneys before? Was there any method in his wanderings? Or was he, too,
merely examining his surroundings--considering which was the likeliest
part of the island from which to attract attention? In the midst of these
speculation a sudden resolution came to him--one or other of the three
must keep an eye on Chatfield. Night or day, Chatfield must be watched.
And having already seen that Copplestone and Audrey had an unmistakable
liking for each other's society and would certainly not object to being
left together, he determined to watch Chatfield himself. Hurrying down
the cliffs, he hastily explained the situation to his companions, took
some food in his hands, and set out to follow the agent wherever he went.