Part 9 (1/2)

Another moment, and we were in sight of the Cove. My heart was beating violently, and I felt the crimson flush mount suddenly to my face, and then leave it again; but no one else noticed it, and as yet I could not see to the harbour-bar, so as to know whether the s.h.i.+p were safe or not.

The little creek in which it had been left was, however, full in view, and Aleck instantly observed that his new treasure was not there.

But there was an entire absence of uneasiness in his tone, as he quietly remarked,--

”I suppose you put it into the boat-house lest it should be blown about whilst we were away;” and without waiting for an answer he placed the rolled-up tail of the kite in my hand, and ran forwards to look into the boat-house for it.

It was in vain, however, that he searched first my miniature boat-house, and then every nook and corner of the real one.

”It's not there,” he said. ”I thought you must have put it away.”

”I never said so,” I answered; and then a bright thought coming to me, as to what would be an impregnable position to take up in all future inquiry, I boldly added, ”I never touched it after you went away.”

”Where can it be, then?” said Aleck; and yet, though it was clearly a hopeless task, we once again looked carefully for the missing treasure in both boat-houses. There was the ”Fair Alice,” my own beautiful little vessel, that had seemed the most perfect thing of its kind, until the arrival of the new one; but the other was nowhere to be found.

”Tell you what, Master Gordon,” said old George, ”the wind's been uncommon s.h.i.+fting and fanciful this morning, and we left her with sails set; depend upon it, sir, that she's been drifting out with the tide a bit, and the wind so off sh.o.r.e, as it is now, she'd be up towards the mouth of the Cove. We ought to have thought of the wind and the change of the tide; it will be well if she's not out to sea.”

”Oh, no fear of that!” exclaimed Aleck, joyfully, ”because I myself put the harbour-bar across this morning when I sailed her first;” and so saying, he bounded off along the rocks towards the mouth of the Cove, the rest of us following almost as fast.

One hasty glance and I knew that what I had expected had taken place; the ring which tightened the rope across, so as to const.i.tute a barrier, was now under water--the rope, it must be understood, being arranged to lie along the bottom when not specially adjusted--the channel out to sea was perfectly unimpeded, and there was no trace of the little vessel which, an hour and a half before, had been sailing so merrily upon the water.

”O George!” exclaimed Aleck, ”see the rope is down; it must have gone out to sea; it _can't_ be gone!”

But Aleck's face of sad conviction belied his words.

”It can't be gone!” he repeated; and yet the tears of disappointment were forcing themselves into his eyes, though he battled up bravely against his trouble, and tried to believe still that there was some mistake.

Then we betook ourselves to searching in every nook and corner of the Cove, exploring impossible places amongst the rocks, and once again returning to look through the boat-house; I, hypocritically, as active as others, lest there should be any suspicion raised.

”Master Willie,” said Groves at last, as if a bright thought had struck him, ”I know what it must be, sir. You're up to a prank sometimes--in fact, rather often--and you've hidden away the yacht, for there's been no one else in the Cove but you; though where you can have put it I'm puzzled to say, seeing there's not a place fit to hide a walnut-sh.e.l.l I haven't looked in, not to say a schooner yacht drawing half a foot of water.”

All faces looked relieved by the idea--the three other faces I mean. But as its tendency was to fasten a certain measure of responsibility upon myself, I thought it better to become indignant.

”I don't know why you say I must have done it,” I answered hastily. ”I never touched the boat; what should I touch it for, it wasn't mine; you didn't make it for me. I told Aleck I hadn't touched it.”

”Master Willie, Master Willie,” expostulated Groves, ”don't be angry; I only thought you might have been up to a bit of fun, and I was mistaken.”

”Then, George--O George!” exclaimed my cousin, grasping him by the arm, ”she _must_ have gone out to sea;” and he tried hard to gulp down his feelings; ”you know the harbour-bar is down.”

”And I should like to know how it came to be down,” said George, severely. A new idea evidently pa.s.sed all in a moment through my cousin's mind. With a fiery flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes that I had never seen in him before, he turned suddenly upon me.

”You naughty, wicked boy,” he said.

”You didn't touch the boat you say; but you didn't like my having it; you didn't like its being mine, because it was better than yours, and had two masts; and so you let down the bar, and--and she's got out to sea and is lost!” And so saying he burst into a pa.s.sionate fit of tears.

It is difficult to say which of us was the most surprised by this unlooked-for accusation of Aleck's. I had never seen my cousin in such a temper before, but was far too conscious of the wrong part I had acted to be able at once to answer with a protest of innocence. So that in the very short s.p.a.ce of time which was occupied by George telling Aleck the case was not hopeless, and the vessel might be found yet, and that he'd be sorry for the wrong words he had said to me, a rapid controversy pa.s.sed silently between me and my conscience somewhat in this wise:--

_Conscience._--”You know that what he said is true about your not liking his having the schooner, and you know you wanted it to get lost.”

_Answer._--”But I can say with perfect truth that I did not touch it _or the rope_.”

_Conscience._--”You know if you had called off Frisk the schooner would not have been lost.” _Answer._--”But I never _saw_ Frisk unloose the ring; and I can say, with truth, that until just now I did not _know_ that it was not safe.”