The Million Dollar Mystery Part 26

On board the _George Was.h.i.+ngton_ every one felt extremely sorry for this beautiful girl. It was a frightful misfortune to be so stricken at her age.

"She is certainly insane," said one of the pa.s.sengers, who had known Hargreave slightly through some banking business. "Hargreave wasn't married. He lived alone."

After the second day out Florence was permitted to wander about the s.h.i.+p as she pleased.

A good many of the pa.s.sengers were mightily worried when they learned that the wireless had in some mysterious way been tampered with after the boat had made the open sea. It was impossible to put about. The apparatus must be fixed at sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: EVERYONE FELT EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL]

And when finally Norton's wireless caught the wires of the _George Was.h.i.+ngton_ he was gravely informed that the young lady referred to had leaped the rail off the banks at night and had been drowned. She had not been missed till the following morning.

CHAPTER X

It was perfectly true that Florence had cast herself into the sea. It had not been an act of despair, however. On the contrary, hope and courage had prompted her to leap. The night was clear, with only a moderate sea running. At the time the great s.h.i.+p was pa.s.sing the banks, and almost within hail, she saw a fis.h.i.+ng schooner riding gracefully at anchor. She quite readily believed that if she remained on board the _George Was.h.i.+ngton_ she was lost. She naturally forgot the marvel of wireless telegraphy. No longer may a man hide at sea.

So, with that quick thought which was a part of her inheritance, she seized the life buoy, climbed the rail and leaped far out. As the great, dark, tossing sea swooped up to meet her she noted a block of wood bobbing up and down. She tried to avoid it, but could not, and struck it head on. Despite the blow and the shock of the chill water she instinctively clung to the buoy. The wash from the mighty propellers tossed her about, hither and yon, from one swirl to another, like a chip of wood. Then everything grew blank.

Fortunately for her the master of the fis.h.i.+ng schooner was at the time standing on his quarterdeck by the wheel, squinting through his gla.s.s at the liner and envying the ease and comfort of those on board her.

The mate, sitting on the steps and smoking his turning-in pipe, saw the master lean forward suddenly, lower the gla.s.s, then raise it again.

"Lord A'mighty!"

"What's the matter, Cap'n?"

"Jake, in G.o.d's name, come 'ere an' take a peek through this gla.s.s.

I'm dreamin'!"

The mate jumped and took the gla.s.s. "Where away, sir?"

"A p'int off th' sta'board bow. See somethin' white bobbin' up?"

"Yessir! Looks like some one dropped a bolster 'r a piller overboard.... Cod's whiskers!" he broke off.

"Then I ain't really seein' things," cried the master. "Hi, y'

lubbers," he yelled to the crew; "lower th' dory. They's a woman in th' water out there. I seen her leap th' rail. Look alive! Sharp's th' word! Mate, you go 'long."

The crew dropped their tasks and sprang for the davits, and the starboard dory was lowered in s.h.i.+p shape style.

It takes a good bit of seamans.h.i.+p to haul a body out of the sea, into a dancing, bobtailed dory, when one moment it is climbing frantically heavenward and the next heading for the bottomless pit. They were very tender with her. They laid her out in the bottom of the boat, with the life buoy as a pillow, and pulled energetically for the schooner. She was alive, because she breathed; but she did not stir so much as an eyelid. It was a stiff bit of work, too, to land her aboard without adding to her injuries. The master ordered the men to put her in his own bunk, where he nearly strangled her by forcing raw brandy down her throat.

"Well, she's alive, anyhow."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLORENCE STEALS OUT IN THE NIGHT TO JUMP OVERBOARD]

When Florence finally opened her eyes the gray of dawn lay upon the sea, dotted here and there by the schooners of the fleet, which seemed to be hanging in midair, as at the moment there was visible to the eye no horizon.

"Don't seem t' recognize nothin'."

"Mebbe she's got a fever," suggested the mate, rubbing his bristly chin.

"Fever nothin'! Not after bein' in th' water half an hour. Mebbe she hit one o' them wooden floats we left. Them dinged liners keep on crowdin' us," growled Barnes, with a fisherman's hate for the floating hotels. "Went by without a toot. See 'er, jes' like the banker's wife goin' t' church on Sunday? A mile a minute; fog or no fog, it's all the same t' them. They run us down and never stop. What th' tarnation we goin' to do? She'll haff t' stay aboard till th' run is over. I can't afford t' yank up my mudhook this time o' day."

"Guess she can stand three 'r four days in our company, smellin'

oilcloths, fish, kerosene, an' punk t'bacco."

"If y' don't like th' kind o' t'bacco I buy buy your own. I ain't objectin' none."

The mate stepped over to the bunk and gingerly ran his hand over the girl's head. "Cod's whiskers, Cap'n, they's a b.u.mp as big's a cork on th' back o' her head! She's struck one o' them floats all right.

Where's the arnica?"

Barnes turned to his locker and rummaged about, finally producing an ancient bottle and some pa.s.sably clean cloth used frequently for bandages. Sometimes a man grew careless with his knife or got in the way of a pulley block. With blundering kindness the two men bound up the girl's head, and then went about their duties.

For three days Florence evinced not the slightest inclination to leave the bunk. She lay on her back either asleep or with her eyes staring at the beams above her head. She ate just enough to keep her alive; and the strong black coffee did nothing more than to make her wakeful.

No one knew what the matter was. There was the b.u.mp, now diminished; but that it should leave her in this comatose state vastly puzzled the men. The truth is she had suffered a slight concussion of the brain, and this, atop of all the worry she had had for the last few weeks, was sufficient to cause this blankness of the mind.

The final cod was cleaned and packed away in salt, the mudhook raised, and the schooner _Betty_ set her sails for the southwest. Barnes realized that to save the girl she must have a doctor who knew his business. Mrs. Barnes would know how to care for the girl, once she knew what the trouble was. There would be some news in the papers. A young and beautiful woman did not jump from a big Atlantic liner without the newspapers getting hold of the facts.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL WOMAN DID NOT JUMP FROM A BIG ATLANTIC LINER WITHOUT THE NEWSPAPERS GETTING HOLD OF THE FACTS"]

A fair wind carried the _Betty_ into her haven, and shortly after Florence was sleeping peacefully in a feather bed, ancient, it is true, but none the less soft and inviting. In all this time she had not spoken a single word.

"The poor young thing!" murmured the motherly Mrs. Barnes. "What beautiful hair! Oh, John, I wish you would give up the sea. I hate it. It is terrible. I am always watching you in my mind's eye, in calm weather, in storms. Pieces of wrecks come ash.o.r.e, and I always wonder over the death and terror back of them."

"Don't y' worry none about me, Betty. I never take no chances. Now I'm goin' int' th' village an' bring back th' sawbones. He'll tell us what t' do."

The village doctor shook his grizzled head gravely.

"She's been hurt and shocked at the same time. It will be many days before she comes around to herself. Just let her do as she pleases.

Only keep an eye on her so that she doesn't wander off and get lost.

I'll watch the newspapers and if I come across anything which bears upon the case I'll notify you."

But he searched the newspapers in vain, for the simple fact that he did not think to glance over the old ones.

The village took a good deal of interest in the affair. They gossiped about it and strolled out to the Barnes' cottage to satisfy their curiosity. One thing was certain to their simple minds: some day Barnes would get a great sum of money for his kindness. They had read about such things in the family story paper. She was a rich man's daughter; the ring on the unknown's finger would have fitted out a fleet.

Florence was soon able to walk about. Ordinary conversation she seemed to understand; but whenever the past was broached she would shake her head with frowning eyes. Her main diversion consisted of sitting on the sand dunes and gazing out at sea.

One day a stranger came to town. He said he represented a life insurance company and was up here from Boston to take a little vacation. He sat on the hotel porch that evening surrounded by an admiring audience. The stranger had been all over the world, so it seemed. He spoke familiarly of St. Petersburg, Vladivostok, Shanghai, as the villagers--some of them--might have spoken of Boston.

There were one or two old-timers among the audience. They had been to all these parts. The stranger knew what he was telling about. After telling of his many voyages he asked if there was a good bathing beach near by. He was told that he would find the most suitable spot near Captain Barnes' cottage just outside the village.

"An' say, Mister, seen anythin' in th' papers about a missin' young woman?" asked some one.

"Missing young woman? What's that?"