Part 20 (1/2)

”He's off,” he said. ”Might have a high-power engine inside of him.

Guess he's going to scare those schooner men 'most out of their lives.

It's quite likely they won't keep anchor watch when they're lying snug in a place of this kind.”

Nasmyth managed to control his laughter, and went down to divest himself of his draperies. When he came up again, George reported that he had just seen Martial crawling up the schooner's cable, and in another few moments what appeared to be a howl of terror rose from the vessel. It was not repeated, and shortly afterwards Nasmyth went to sleep.

Martial remained on board the schooner that night, and Nasmyth was not surprised when he failed to appear next morning. Acton had come back with his party when a man dropped into the boat astern of the schooner, and pulled towards the _Tillic.u.m_ leisurely. Everybody was on deck when he slid alongside, and, standing up in his boat, laid hold of the rail.

”I've a message for Mr. Acton,” he said, holding up a strip of paper.

Acton, who took the paper from him, was a trifle perplexed when he glanced at it.

”It seems that Martial didn't stay at that ranch last night as I thought he had done,” he remarked.

Mrs. Acton, who sat next to Miss Hamilton, looked up sharply. She was a tall woman with an authoritative manner.

”Where is he?” she inquired.

”Gone back to Victoria,” said her husband, who handed her the note.

”It's kind of sudden, and he doesn't worry about saying why he went.

There's a little remark at the bottom that I don't quite like.”

George naturally had been listening, and Nasmyth saw his subdued grin, but he saw also Mrs. Acton's quick glance at Miss Hamilton, which seemed to suggest that she surmised the girl could explain why Martial had departed so unceremoniously. There was, however, only astonishment, and, Nasmyth fancied, a trace of relief in Violet Hamilton's face. Mrs. Acton turned to her husband with a flush of resentment in her eyes.

”I should scarcely have believed Mr. Martial would ever write such a note,” she said. ”What does he mean when he says that he does not appreciate being left to sleep in the woods all night?”

”That,” answered Acton, ”is what I don't quite understand. If he'd hailed anchor watch loud enough, George would have gone off for him.

Still, we're lying quite a way out from the beach.”

Then he remembered the man from the schooner, who still gripped the rail.

”How did you come to get this note?” he asked.

”The man who came off last night gave it to the skipper,” said the schooner's deck-hand with a very suggestive grin.

”How'd he come off?” Acton asked. ”Did you go ash.o.r.e for him?”

”We didn't!” said the man. ”He must have swum off and crawled up the cable. Any way, when he struck the skipper he hadn't any clothes on him.”

There was a little murmur of astonishment, and Mrs. Acton straightened herself suddenly, while Nasmyth saw a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt creep into Acton's eyes. The schooner man evidently felt that he had an interested audience, for he leaned upon the rail as he began to tell all he knew about the incident.

”I was asleep forward, when the skipper howled as if he was most scared out of his life,” he said. ”I got up out of the scuttle just as quick as I could, and there he was crawling round behind the stern-house with an axe in his hand, and the mate flat up against the rail.

”'Shut that slide quick,' says the skipper. 'Shut it. He's crawling up the ladder.'

”'I guess you can shut it yourself if you want it shut.' He asked for whisky. 'Tell him where it is,' says the mate.”

There was no doubt that the listeners were interested, and the man made an impressive gesture. ”It was kind of scaring. There was a soft flippety-flop going on in the stern-house, and I slipped out a handspike. Then the skipper sees me.