Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence

“It’s eleven o’clock, boys, just think of it?” said Herb, as he lighted a lantern in order to make up his bed more comfortably; for Herb believed in getting all the benefit possible out of things, even when on a cruise.

“And we can count on broad daylight by four o’clock, though we needn’t get up till five,” Jack observed. “So I’ve divided the six hours into three watches. Josh and myself will stay on duty until one. Then Herb and Jimmie will take our places, and at three they are to wake up George and Buster. Understand that, fellows?”

“Yes,” came the response, in some cases very sleepily.

“How about you, Josh; think you can stay awake two hours now?” Jack asked.

“I drank more coffee for supper than usual,” the other answered, “and the way I feel now, I don’t seem to care one bit whether I get a wink of sleep tonight or not.”

As things were reduced to a pretty good system by this time, with regard to the making up of beds, it did not require much time to get these in readiness. Herb was the only fussy one; and they were threatening to call him an old maid, and get a cap and gown for him, if he kept on that way. But Herb paid no attention to all this talk. When he had his mind made up it required an earthquake to change it.

Finally his lantern went out, although Josh kept it within reach of his hand, in case he needed light in a hurry while doing his trick as sentinel.

He and Jack could converse in low tones without disturbing the sleepers, should they care to do so. Jack meant to exchange a few words occasionally, if only to convince himself that the other had not been overtaken by drowsiness.

No longer did the moon peep out from the dark curtains above. The cloud banks had effectually covered the face of the heavens as with a pall. Still it did not rain, and thus far there were no other indications of a brooding storm.

It was impossible to see for any distance around. Even out upon the water objects were indistinct at fifty feet; and as for the nearby island it rested there like a black hillock, above which the tips of the inky pines could be seen outlined against the less opaque sky.

Now and then the night breeze moaned dismally through these treetops, making a queer sound. Jack noticed that every time this happened there would be a slight movement in the Comfort; and he understood that Josh must be turning his head to stare toward the island. Josh, then, had not entirely given up the idea of seeing a ghost; and this uncanny sound made him remember his prediction.

It was impossible to note the passage of time by the stars, for they were quite out of sight, and no clock striking could give warning; for there was not a church within many miles of their anchorage.

So when Jack began to wonder how much longer he and Josh ought to hold the fort, he had to strike a match and consult the little nickel watch he carried.

“Gosh! how you scared me!” exclaimed the other sentry, as the match crackled.

“Half past twelve,” Jack remarked, in a low tone. “That means another half hour for us, Josh. How are you feeling about now?”

“Well,” admitted the other, “I guess I was near dozing that time. Thought somebody shot at me when you scratched that match. How loud everything sounds at this time of night. Wish that old bird would let up on that screeching, over on the Canada shore. He makes me tired, for a fact.”

“Depends on the way you look at things,” chuckled Jack. “Now, for my part I rather like to hear a whippoorwill call. Never yet kept me awake either, like some things would do. Have a bite of this gingerbread, Josh. Keeping watch is hungry work, after all, I find. Besides, while your jaws are working, you won’t get sleepy.”

Josh was nothing averse to a “snack,” and so they sat there, eating, and occasionally exchanging some remark, while the balance of the crowd slept on.

The boats were anchored far enough apart to avoid striking should a wind arise. But on account of his desire to keep in touch with Josh, Jack had seen to it that the stern of each craft was drawn toward the other. In this fashion then they could have shaken hands by leaning over the intervening foot or so of water.

It so happened that while Jack was devoting most of his attention to the watery expanse that stretched away toward the east, Josh on the other hand found the neighboring island more interesting.

Each acted on his own idea as to the nature of the danger that might come upon them. With Josh it was the peril that stalks during the middle of the night, and frightens men through its connection with spectral forms. Jack, on the other hand, suspected that Clarence and his crony, Bully Joe, might be planning some sort of a mean raid, that would spoil the pleasure of the motor boat club.

“Jack!” whispered the occupant of the Comfort in a hoarse voice.

“Well, what do you want?” replied the other lad, serenely.

“I am sure I heard a suspicious noise ashore just then!” Josh continued.

“Oh! rats! You’re always hearing things, Josh. Like as not it was only a poor old ’coon, hunting around on the beach for a fish that has been cast up. Get it off your mind. It’s only a little time longer, and then you to dreamland.”

“There it goes again, Jack! Didn’t you catch it that time? I tell you it means something. Hark! now will you believe me?”

Josh was growing more and more excited. He even raised his voice above the low tone in which up to now they had conversed. But small danger of any of those sound sleepers being so easily awakened. It would require a shaking to accomplish that.

Jack certainly did hear the sounds now. These consisted of a strange clacking, the nature of which it was impossible to guess. Then would come a plain, unmistakable groan! No wonder poor Josh shivered, and turned cold with apprehension, considering what his recent belief had been.

“Oh, my! there’s sure something moving up there, Jack! Don’t you see it – over by that place where we saw the silver birch? Watch it, Jack! There, look! look!” and as he spoke Josh raised his voice still more until it almost became a shout.

Movements told that he had finally succeeded in arousing the sleep squad. Nick was heard to yawn, and grumble, as usual; while Herb poked his head out from the side curtains to ask what all the row meant.

“Didn’t I tell you it would come?” shouted Josh suddenly. “Just look there on that blamed island, and see what we get for sticking here! Now laugh at me for believing in ghosts, will you? Herb, can’t we cut the anchor rope, and make a quick getaway? Please say yes, because I’m that scared I’m shaking all over!”

And every eye was by this time glued upon the strange spectacle ashore that had given poor Josh his fright.

CHAPTER IX – THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND

“Wow! it’s sure a banshee!” whooped Jimmie.

“A-am I dreaming, fellows?” exclaimed Herb, rubbing his eyes desperately.

“O-oh! look at it shake its fist at us, would you! It’s ten feet high, if it’s one!” came from the quivering lips of Buster.

But Jack as yet had not said a word, though he was staring just as hard at the remarkable sight ashore as any of them. It was something different from anything that had ever before crossed his path. Perhaps Jack might have felt a little chilly sensation as he looked; but he was not at all frightened.

Up on the rise of the mysterious island there had appeared a dim figure that seemed, just as Nick vowed, to be all of ten feet in height. At first it was like a curling column of smoke, when a certain kind of wood has been thrown on the fire. Then it seemed to take form, and change to a flickering yellow glow.

The groaning sounds continued all the while, as though this disturbed spirit from the other world might be in great pain. And certainly the figure was waving one of its arms as though waving them off.

All of this Jack saw, yet no panic gripped him as it seemed to do the rest, who were crouching there, staring, and gasping for breath.

“Jimmie, hand me my shotgun, and let’s see if it can stand Number Threes!”

Jack called this out in a loud, clear voice. Not that he wanted the gun to any great extent; but he had an object in saying it.

But Jimmie really believed he meant what he said. While he groped for the gun he was saying aloud:

“Sure, now, ’tis mesilf as doan’t belave ye kin knock the daylight out of that banshee wid little shots, Jack, darlint. But if so be ye mane to thry, take the gun, while I shut me eyes.”

“’Tain’t any use,” broke in George; “the thing’s disappeared!”

And so it had, vanishing as mysteriously as it had come, and leaving only a black void in front of them. Even that steady groaning had stopped, proving conclusively that it had had to do with the appearance of the spectre.

Jack laughed, to the utter astonishment of the rest.

“I don’t see anything funny about this business,” complained Nick.

“Well, p’raps you fellers will quit quizzing me after that experience!” said Josh, with just a little ring of triumph in his unsteady voice.

“And will you please stop shaking that way?” remarked George. “For you make the boat rock the worst kind. It was bad enough seeing that blessed thing, without taking a header overboard right now.”