Secrets often leak out of a country post office, just how no one
knows, but still they do, and when Mark called upon Judge Miller after
arriving in B----, and escorting Virgene home, that gentleman said:
“Well, my young friend, I suppose I am to congratulate you upon
receiving an appointment to the naval school, and I am glad of it.”
Mark stood aghast, and the judge continued:
“Mr. Clemmons told me his son Scott had received an appointment, and
that a like official looking document had come through the mails for
you, and he supposed it was also a cadet midshipman’s berth in our
navy, though he wondered how you had obtained, without influence, what
he had found no easy task to secure for his son.”
“Yes, sir, I have orders to report for examination, but I wished to
keep it secret, for I may fail, you know, sir.”
“Not you; but I suppose you won yours from having saved a schooner from
being wrecked some half a year ago, and which made quite a hero of you,
I remember.”
Mark saw that the judge was on the wrong track, so he did not correct
him as to how he had gotten his appointment.
“Well, Mark, you came to see me for some purpose, so out with it,” said
the judge.
Mark told of his seeing the little schooner adrift at sea, and going
out in his boat had found her abandoned, so sailed her into port.
He had taken from his meager savings enough to advertise her in Boston,
Portland and New York, but no claimant had come, and so he wished to
know if the vessel belonged to him.
“You have a claim upon her, Mark, and can get salvage, should her owner
turn up; but there is just such a craft needed, or will be within a
couple of months, for running around the islands with parties, and
my advice to you is to secure a skipper and a couple of men and let
them run the trips for you, for it will bring in a snug income to your
mother, while, should her owner appear, you have the vessel to give
up to him upon the payment of salvage. Now, what do you think of my
advice, Mark?”
“I thank you for it, sir, and shall take it.”
“And your skipper can report to me, if you wish, while you must tell
your mother to come to me, if I can in any way serve her, for I suppose
she will move up to B---- when you go?”
“No, sir, my mother will remain at Cliff Castle.”
“What, alone?”
“No, sir, she has old Peggy.”
“It is a dreary, weird place to dwell, Mark.”
“She likes it, and she prefers to remain, for we have talked it over,”
answered Mark.
Soon after making a few purchases for home, he went on his way to his
boat just as the sun was setting.
As he passed the tavern, Virgene Rich called to him, and said:
“Mark, I have just learned that Scott Clemmons has also an appointment
to the naval academy. You must beware of him, Mark, for he is your
bitter foe now, and mine, too, since I testified against him.”
“He is not dangerous, Miss Virgene,” replied Mark indifferently.
“You mistake; for all snakes are dangerous, as they strike from cover.
I will see you before you go, will I not?”
“Yes, miss, and I hope you will ride down to see my mother, as you
promised.”
“I certainly shall,” was the answer, as Mark walked on.
At his boat stood Silly Sam, who said:
“See here, Mister Mark, I hain’t no bullfrog to croak, but I seen a
gang o’ fellers sail downstream an hour ago who hain’t no friends o’
your’n.”
“Thank you, Sam, but it’s catching before hanging, you know.” And with
a light laugh Mark sprung into his skiff and sped away just as twilight
fell.
He had to beat down the inlet, and as he stood over toward a point of
land in the darkness, running on the port tack with the wind blowing
fresh, his little craft suddenly gave a lurch and the next instant went
over, throwing him into the water.
As he rose he heard the sound of oars, and in the darkness saw a large
boat rowing toward him, while he heard voices say:
“That rope settled him, as you said it would.”
“Yes, and we laid it just right; but do you see his boat?”
“Yes, there she lies upset, and she’ll drive out to sea with him on
her, so that ends him.”
“But he is not on the boat.”
“Then he has drowned, for Silly Sam said he could not swim a stroke.”
“Let us take up the net.”
“Oh, no, leave it down, for his boat seems caught in it, and that will
tell the whole story.”
The boat, a large fishing yawl with sails down, was rowed up to the
capsized skiff, and every eye was turned over the dark waters, while
several hailed to see if a swimmer was near.
The surf-skiff was caught in the net, which had been stretched to
accomplish just what it had done, and, confident that their victim had
perished, sail was set on the fishing yawl and it sailed away toward
the town.
Then from out of the shadows swam Mark Merrill, and going to his
upturned boat he removed the slender mast, righted the skiff, clambered
in, and with his hat threw the water out.
Then the mast was stepped once more, the wet sail spread, and the
surf-skiff held on her way homeward, while Mark mused aloud:
“I know two of the three who were in that boat; but I’ll not tell on
them--oh, no! I’ll just keep my secret for future reference.”