When the Cock Crows Part 15

But Ethel knew that Doctor Garnet, despite her earlier belief, was not mad. Notwithstanding the tortures he endured, his narrative to her had revealed a mind lucid and sane. She wondered suddenly if, after all, it might be possible somehow to save him from the law's penalty? Yet, the d.a.m.ning evidence of the murdered man in the wreck of the yacht could not be concealed. The consequence of it would be that there could be no safety for the guilty one--at least on this continent.

That last phrase brought inspiration to the girl. There flashed into her mind a thought of another continent, where death was riding ruthless over countless thousands. There, under a new ident.i.ty, this miserable creature might return to his manhood, might once again exercise his great skill in behalf of suffering humanity, might indeed atone for the past, might win a martyr's crown.... If he could but be smuggled out of the country!

It was hours past midnight now; a ghostly trace of dawn showed in the eastern sky. The physician, it was evident, was fighting desperately against the anguish induced by his abstinence after over-indulgence in the drug. But, presently, he noted through the open doorway the lightening of the horizon. Once again, now, he spoke to Ethel.

"Miss Marion, it's near daylight and the wind is still holding to the same course it was blowing yesterday. I see little chance of getting away from this place until there is a change. It is, I should judge, about twenty miles to Portsmouth. With your permission, I shall set out for there at once, in order to procure a boat and then return to you.

I'm sure that I can make it. I shall be spurred on by two of the strongest incentives: one is my anxiety in your behalf; the other--for I shall be frank with you--is my anxiety to reach a physician. I know that unless I can secure relief within a few hours I shall become insane."

He paused for a moment, and then added in a voice surcharged with emotion:

"This has been a terrible night. It was a horrible ordeal for me to make my confession to you. But now I feel the better for it. I have fought my hardest to retain my self-control, and I have succeeded thus far. Now, if you can only continue to be brave for a few hours, I'll have you safely on your way home."

"But do you consider that you are equal to the trip, Doctor?" Ethel inquired doubtfully. "Twenty miles is a long, long distance for one in your state of body and mind. Oh, how I wish my ankle was fit, so that I could stand the journey! But, of course, you most certainly have my permission, Doctor Garnet. That is, on one condition."

"And what is that condition, Miss Marion?"

"I want you to go under sealed instructions. I shall write these out and give them to you, but you must not read them until you have gone ten miles up the sh.o.r.e. Before you answer, let me tell you that in those instructions you will find nothing but what is to the best interests of both yourself and me."

"I owe you every obedience," the Doctor declared instantly, though there was a note of astonishment in his voice. "It shall be as you wish."

At her request, Doctor Garnet provided Ethel with his fountain-pen and some pages torn from his memorandum-book. She wrote her instructions hurriedly, folded them and gave them to the physician, who bestowed them in his coat-pocket. Then, with a short word of farewell, he set forth on his journey, while the girl, standing in the doorway, looked after him with brooding eyes. When he had disappeared from view, she seated herself on the doorstep and mused for a long time on the curious adventures through which she had pa.s.sed, and of which the end was not yet come. She felt a great content over being thus alone, gladdened by a sheer relief at the absence of the Doctor. She no longer felt any fear, and presently she limped across to the bunk that had been prepared for her, where she quickly fell asleep on Ichabod's blankets. When at last she awoke, it was after a sound slumber of some hours, for the sun was now high in the heavens. She found herself greatly refreshed, and a desire came on her for the added refreshment of a plunge into the sea.

There was no sign of a human being anywhere within sight, so she undressed and entered the water.

When her bath was ended, and she was again clothed, Ethel found a stick to serve her as a cane, and with its aid made a halting ascent of one of the sand dunes. She was surprised and pleased at the manifest improvement in her ankle. There remained little pain, even when her weight bore upon it in walking, and the swelling was greatly reduced, so that she was able partly to b.u.t.ton her shoe over it. From the crest of the sand dune, she was able to look out over a wide expanse of the waters all round-about.

To the eastward, she could see for miles out over the bosom of the Atlantic. Far away in the distance, she saw a large steamer headed toward the north. At sight of it, she was swept with a sick longing to be on board, bound back to home and lover. Scattered over the surface of the Sound were visible many small sails of the fis.h.i.+ng boats, darting to and fro, many skirting the sh.o.r.e. These were, however, located far away to the southwest, miles distant from where she stood. It was evident that, for the time being at least, there would be no opportunity to signal for help. A sudden realization of hunger drove her back to the shack.

Ethel gathered sticks from the sh.o.r.e for the rusty ramshackle stove. She lighted them with matches brought from the tender. Soon she had water boiling for coffee, and presently, with the remnants left from Mrs.

Goodwin's supply, the girl was able to make a meal that seemed wonderfully savory to her sharpened appet.i.te.

As the day lengthened, Ethel's mind busied itself with the problem of finding a means to signal her presence. There was always the possibility of the physician's failure to reach his destination. Prudence demanded that she herself should make every effort possible for relief. From her reading, she remembered how s.h.i.+pwrecked castaways in similar plight had used a s.h.i.+rt or any white garment as a flag of distress. She saw a net-pole lying on the strand, which, she believed, she could drag to the top of the sand dune, in spite of her ankle's weakness. Her muslin petticoat would serve as the banner. The idea no sooner presented itself than she proceeded to its execution. The moving and the erection of the heavy pole taxed her strength to the utmost, but it was at last accomplished, and its white flag fluttered bravely in the light breeze.

Ethel looked with pride on her achievement, and dared to believe that her father, could he have seen her now, would have praised her courage and resourcefulness. She felt oddly like a soldier who has scaled the wall in the face of the enemy, and planted his flag in triumph on the rampart--though hers was a flag of truce. She surveyed her work complacently, though every muscle was aching from long-continued digging in the s.h.i.+fting sand with her bare hands and the tramping it into firmness about the pole.

When again she glanced out over the Sound, Ethel saw off to the northward a small skiff sailing toward her. Even at this distance, she was sure that it was approaching her refuge. It was evident that her signal had been seen. She sat down, and stared eagerly. She felt suddenly faint in the reaction of joy over the prospect of rescue. Then, a minute later, the castaway was forgotten in the woman. She hastily pulled her signal banner from the pole, wadded it under her arm, and hurried down the dune to the hut. Having accomplished its extraordinary purpose so valiantly, the white flag should now disappear to perform its ordinary useful service.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She sat down and stared eagerly.]

And as the signal banner came down, there sounded a clarion note, as if of victory, from the crest of a neighboring sand dune. It was the crowing of Shrimp, still bold to challenge the world.

But Ethel gave no heed to the bird that had been her companion for a time in misfortune. It occurred to her that she ought not to go away from this place in such fas.h.i.+on as to leave Doctor Garnet to worry over her fate, should he return and find her gone. She decided that she would offer her rescuers a sufficient payment to wait throughout the day for his return, before taking their departure.

Now, the boat was putting in at some little distance up the sh.o.r.e. But there could be no doubt that a landing was intended, for the little sail had been lowered, and one of the men was sculling toward the beach with an oar.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PARTING CROW

In this particular case, the c.o.c.k crowed, not thrice, but once. Indeed, the single triumphant call was all that was necessary. It was as if the vainglorious fowl was aware that he had been a figure in a tragedy, as had been no other of his kind since the time when Saint Peter made craven denial of his Master.

There was no possibility that Captain Ichabod could be deceived as to the ident.i.ty of the creature's voice. As the boat drew in toward the sh.o.r.e to investigate the significance of the white flag that had fluttered from the sand dunes and had then so abruptly vanished, the old fisherman, hearing the c.o.c.k's crow, turned to the detective and Roy Morton, and spoke vehemently:

"Men, did ye hear that? Whar are your ears? I'll jest be John Browned if that wa'n't my ole rooster Shrimp a-crowin'! Why, men, I declare to goodness if it ain't a fact as sure as shootin'. I'd know that bird's hide in the tan-yard with the feathers off. It's him, men--an' if he's thar so is the gal!"

The all-important feature of the chase with Ichabod hitherto had been to find Ethel. Not only on his own account, but for the sake of Roy, whose deep distress aroused his sympathies. Now, however, when he heard his old feathered friend lift up a l.u.s.ty voice as if in salutation, the fisherman for the time being forgot the graver aspect of their quest. A new emotion dominated him: He must see Shrimp--at once! Forthwith, then, he dropped the sheets, and sculled vigorously toward that part of the beach whence had issued the sound of the crowing.

When the boat grounded, Ichabod excitedly hastened forward, climbing the steep slope of the nearest dune. Roy and Van Dusen followed him, for they believed in the accuracy of the old man's observation that the girl must in truth be somewhere near his pet.

As the three reached a cleared s.p.a.ce above the thick growth of bushes about the base and sides of the dune, Uncle Icky, who was some distance in advance of the others, stopped short. He stood for a few seconds in silence, peering intently ahead. Then he cried out in a loud voice:

"Wall, I'll be eternally d.a.m.ned!" He pointed a bony forefinger. "Now, what do you men think o' that? It's him, all right, but, by cracky, the ole devil, as well as myself, has changed consider'ble in his att.i.tude toward the other s.e.x, since last we met! Don't ye see, men, he's a-scratchin' an' a-kityka-dawin' thar fer three hens!"

Both the old man's hearers burst out laughing over this comparison of the rooster's conduct to Ichabod's own, of which they had been given a full account during their voyaging together.

"Wait a minute, folks," he called out as he trotted forward, "till I gits my Shrimp, an' then I'll jine ye!"

Ichabod gave his whistle, so familiar to the rooster, as he walked forward. The feathered ex-alarm clock, now become a gay Lothario, looked up from his pecking and scratching. Then, seeing his old Island companion approaching, Shrimp hurriedly scurried off into the thick growth of bushes, and as he went he issued an authoritative call to the hens to follow, to which they rendered prompt obedience. Ichabod halted, and stared for a moment in dismay. He made no attempt to continue the pursuit. He realized that the old rooster had had a taste of real life, like himself he had come to realize the mistake of living alone on an island of sandy waste, far from the society of the gentler s.e.x. As the old fisherman returned to his companions he spoke gravely:

"Wall, I don't know as how I can blame him. If he's gittin' as much pleasure out o' his new life as I aim to git out o' mine, I don't believe as how he orter be disturbed. He sure was a faithful alarmer, an' I don't see any reason why he shouldn't make a good husband an'

father o' a family."

The three now descended to the sh.o.r.e line. They had made their landing in such haste that they had failed to see the little tender lying in the cove a short distance below. Then, presently, the eyes of the three fell on the shack. Roy halted as abruptly as had Ichabod at the sight of Shrimp, though with a vastly more poignant emotion--for in the window he saw the face of the girl he loved. As he saw the smile of recognition and blissful welcoming, he set out on a run for the cabin. A moment later he disappeared within it.

Ichabod and the detective discreetly refrained from following Roy at once. They gave their attention instead to a sailboat that was approaching. They took the newcomer--for the boat had only a single occupant--for a fisherman seeking to win the reward, though they could not understand why he should be coming from the northward. The watchers were still further puzzled when the boat, instead of bearing sh.o.r.eward, abruptly s.h.i.+fted its course and swung in a wide circle, returning the way it had come. The two men then walked to the tender, which, as it was now low tide, lay fully exposed on the beach. At sight of the shorn propeller, they understood the reason of the interrupted voyage. But they could make no guess as to the whereabouts of Doctor Garnet himself.

They waited with feverish impatience for the appearance of Roy, with such information as he should have gathered from Ethel. In the meantime, they kept a sharp lookout all about, in the hope that the physician, being only temporarily absent, might reappear at any moment.

At last, Roy issued from the cabin. He carried a chair in his left hand, while his right arm supported his betrothed. He placed the chair on the shady side of the shack, and tenderly bestowed the girl in it.

Ichabod and Van Dusen came forward. Ethel greeted the detective warmly as an old acquaintance, and thanked him gratefully for the part he had played in the rescue. But she looked with bewilderment on the leathery visage of the fisherman. She was sure she had seen the face of the old man somewhere once before, but she could by no means find a precise recollection of time or place. Then Roy spoke in introduction of Ichabod to her, and explained the mystery.

"This is Captain Ichabod Jones. To him, Ethel, you owe your life. It was he who rescued you from the wreck of _The Isabel_, and faced death himself to do it. To him also we owe our discovery of you here."

Ethel bestowed so radiant a smile on the old fisherman that he fairly thrilled with pleasure.

"You must tell me the whole story some time soon," the girl said, after she had uttered a few phrases of earnest thanks.

"Miss Marion," replied Captain Ichabod, "jest the pullin' o' a poor drowned woman out o' the water arter the waves has laid her right smack at your feet, an' then a-pumpin' a little swallered brine out o' her lungs don't call for no fuss like what you an' Mr. Morton makes over it.

It'd be a mighty-sorry human what'd a let you lay thar an' die. That's the way I feel 'bout it. 'S'fur's findin' o' ye here is consarned, that hain't so."

He pointed at Roy as he continued:

"Thar's the feller what found ye, an' if thar's any other thanks a-comin' they'd orter go to an old rooster, what used to live with me.

Which flighty bird eloped with you an' that tallow-faced Doctor. His crowin' did the business."

The Captain chuckled.