The youth, accompanied by Jack Judson, the sailor, walked hastily up
the main street of the little town, until he came to a fine residence,
before which hung a sign bearing the legend:
“DR. STONE’S OFFICE.”
The physician had just returned home, and coming by the court room had
heard the story of the affray, and from one who had sided with the
sailor lad in the affair.
He heard Mark’s story of his mother’s illness, and at once said he
would drive down that evening, and received his fee in advance, which
he made exceedingly modest.
With a happy heart the lad then went to a store and made a few
purchases, after which he said:
“Now, sir, I must take time to go and thank that pretty young girl for
her kindness.”
“Well, I just think so, lad, for she’s one among a thousand,” answered
Jack Judson, and the two went to “The Anchorage” and asked to see Miss
Virgene Rich.
But that young lady saw them coming, suspected their errand, and ran
off to the garret and hid, so they were told that she must have gone
out.
“That’s too bad, lad; but you’ll find her in port some time; but, see
here, it’s blowing a gale, and you cannot start home now.”
“Oh, yes, sir; for it would worry my mother more for me not to go.”
“Go by land?”
“It’s a walk of fifteen miles, and only a sail of twelve, while the
wind is fair for me.”
“If my craft was not going out in the morning I’d go with you, for you
are going to have it rough, lad.”
“I don’t mind that, sir, for my craft is a surf-skiff, and I know how
to handle her.”
“I saw that as you came in, my boy; but if you must go I won’t detain
you, so good-by, and don’t you forget that Jack Judson is your friend.”
“I’ll remember you, sir, you may be sure,” was the reply, and five
minutes after the surf-skiff cast off and started upon her really
perilous voyage.
The sailor watched her departure, as many others did, and shook his
head ominously, while Virgene Rich, having returned to her room, stood
in the window, and her innocent young face wore an anxious look as
she saw the little craft driving swiftly into the heavy seas on her
dangerous run.
In half an hour the surf-skiff was out of sight to the watchers, and
soon after rounded a point of land where it felt the full force of the
winds and waves.
But Mark Merrill showed his claim to the title he had won as the boy
pilot of the coast, and though the shadows of night fell upon the
waters, seemed to instinctively know his way over the tempestuous sea.
At length a light gleamed from a cliff far ahead, and the young sailor
said aloud:
“Bless my dear, good mother! she has set the lamp in the south window,
sick as she is, to guide me home, and it shows me that I was a trifle
off my course.”
On sped the little craft, held firmly to her work until she ran in
under the shelter of a lofty overhanging cliff.
The sail was quickly lowered, the painter made fast, and springing
ashore, his arms full of the purchases he had made, Mark Merrill
hastened to climb a steep path leading to the cliff above.
Here stood a large stone mansion, dark and gloomy, except in one end,
where there was a light, the one which had flashed over the waters as a
beacon to guide the brave boy to a haven of safety.
Entering the wing the lad passed into a large room where a woman lay
upon a large old-fashioned bed.
Her face was a sad one, and her eyes were sunk with suffering, but she
smiled as she beheld her son, who advanced and, bending over, kissed
her forehead.
“The doctor will be down to-night, mother, for he knows the way well,
having attended the Vanloo family when they lived here.”
“Heaven bless you, my noble boy; but what a rough night it is, and my
anxiety for you has made me feel better, for I forgot myself.”
“Oh! you’ll soon come round all right, mother,” was the hopeful reply.
“But Mark, how can you pay the doctor, for my illness has kept you from
making any money of late.”
“I sold my little model, mother, for I was tired of it, you know.”
“No, I don’t know anything of the kind, Mark, for you prized it most
highly, and it took you a long time to make it.”
“Why, mother, it was no use, and I got a good price for it, so paid the
doctor and bought some things we needed, and old Peggy will be back
to-morrow, so that I can take a cruise and make some money.”
“I hope so, my son, and Peggy never overstays her time; but I hear
wheels without.”
“It is the doctor,” joyously said the lad.
It was the doctor, and he found the patient suffering from a general
breaking down.
He prescribed what he deemed best, left the medicines, and as the youth
followed him to his carriage, said:
“Your mother has some sorrow to bear, my young friend, and she must
have perfect rest, the best of care, and good food.”
“My old nurse, sir, Peggy, will return to-morrow, for she has been
absent for a few weeks on a yearly visit to her son, and my mother has
overworked herself, I fear.”
“Well, I will see her again, and I understand your situation
exactly--nay, do not get angry, for I will have my way, and all your
mother needs she shall have, and when you make money you can repay me,
for I shall keep an account of expenditures.
“But your mother has some heartache, and you must brighten her life all
you can.
“I visited the Vanloo’s when they dwelt here--where is the heir to this
property?”
“I do not know, sir; but the agent gave us permission to occupy one
wing of it to care for the place.”
“He might well do so, for money would buy no one else to live here
after the tragedies this old mansion has seen.
“You and your mother are brave, indeed, to dwell here; but good-night,”
and the good physician entered his carriage and drove rapidly away
from the old mansion, which had become known as “Spook Hall,” for the
superstitious country folk and the coast dwellers vowed that the place
was haunted--and certainly it was by cruel memories of red deeds done
there one stormy night years before.