Johnstone of the Border

Her conclusions grew clearer and more logical as she put them into words, and she got up resolutely when she had finished.

"We can do nothing more; Dick must help us now."

Stealing down the passage, she entered his room and shook him gently. He awoke, and she put her hand on his face to check the exclamation she half expected.

"It's Elsie; you mustn't make a noise," she whispered. "Do you know anything about a wreck?"

"I know where it is," he answered drowsily.

"Andrew's there to-night, isn't he?"

"It's possible," said Dick, lifting himself on his elbow. "Why do you ask?"

She told him what she had overheard, and he was silent for a moment, though she knew that he was now wide awake.

"Andrew must be warned," he said; "and the other fellow's got a start. I couldn't get the car out without bringing Staffer down, and Whitney's motorcycle is at the Burnfoot. I'll have to take my bicycle."

Elsie noted that he had shown no surprise, which was curious, and that he was very cool. Then she remembered that he had not been looking well for some days.

"Can't you get a fisherman to go?" she suggested. "You could give him a guarded message or a note."

Dick smiled.

"I'll have to take a fisherman, but I'm going. Andrew's a very good sort and I owe him something." His tone changed strangely. "Will you give me a kiss, Elsie? You haven't done so since we were kiddies – but I'd like you to."

Elsie stooped and kissed his cheek and he put his hand on hers.

"Thank you, dear. Now you'll have to go. I must start as soon as possible."

She left him, wondering at something unusual in his manner; and five minutes afterward Dick crept down the back stairs. When he wheeled out his bicycle, the lamp would not burn and he had no time to look for fresh carbide. It was difficult to keep on the drive, and he feared that Staffer might hear the crash if he ran into the border and fell, but he avoided this, and opened the gate at the lodge without wakening its occupants.

The valley was dark, the road wet, and Dick could scarcely see the clipped hedgerows. Indeed, at first, he ran on to the grass, but by degrees his eyes got used to the gloom and he let the bicycle coast down a long hill. It gave him a good start, but when he came to the bottom, the hill in front was steep, and he knew a stern effort would be needed, as he changed to the low gear. He was distressed and panting hard when he was half-way up, and as he forced the cranks round, the tires slipped and skidded in the mud. The trees that stretched their bare branches overhead kept the road soft, but it seemed to him that they also shut out the air. He could not breathe in the thick gloom beneath them, and his heart was throbbing painfully.

This was the kind of thing he had been especially warned against; but he could not stop. The wind was light, and, allowing for some loss of time in waking a fisherman and getting his boat away, it would be past low-water when they approached the wreck. Remembering what had happened the night the lamp went out, Dick saw that Andrew's danger would begin when the flood-tide raced across the sands.

The breeze met him in the face when the road turned toward the coast at the summit of the hill. He found it refreshing, but it threatened to increase his labor and the mud got worse as he ran down to the seaboard plain. Light mist thickened the gloom and the bicycle skidded badly when he struck the boggy strip along the half-seen hedgerows. Still he toiled on, while the perspiration dripped from his forehead and he got dizzy. The exertion he was making was not sufficient cause for this, but he had paid for rashly running upstairs at a Lockerbie hotel a few days before. Something the doctor had warned him of had happened, and he had not recovered from it yet. For all that, he must reach the lower end of the channel before the tide began to flow.

He knew the road well, but he could not distinguish where he was, and was half afraid he had taken a wrong turning, until a few faint lights shone out ahead. These must mark the outskirts of Annan. Five minutes later he ran down the main street. The houses were dark, and he had some trouble to find the narrow lane that turned off to the waterside. There were no lights here, but the road was paved, and when he passed under a railway bridge tall black buildings rose between him and the river. A sour smell came from the wet mud-banks behind them, and the splash of running water warned him that the tide was falling fast. He must lose no time if he meant to get away before the boats were left aground.

He passed a silent factory and a long, shadowy mill; a schooner's masts rose out of the gloom, and he was in the open. When the road stopped near a wharf-shed, Dick pushed the bicycle through a gap in a hedge and across a field, until he reached a very muddy lane. He would rather have left the machine; but time did not permit; and for the next five minutes he jolted furiously among the pools and ruts. Somehow, he saved himself from falling, and jumped down when a dark row of houses, on rising ground, cut against the sky. Throwing the bicycle against a fence, he climbed the hill, breathing hard, while his head swam and he felt the heavy thumping of his heart.

When he knocked at the door, a man came down and took him into a small, plainly furnished room. He was a big fellow, with keen blue eyes, and a brown face covered with fine wrinkles.

"Noo ye can tell me what ye want," he said.

Dick gave him a rather inadequate explanation, and the fisherman looked thoughtful.

"Weel," he said, "I dinna' understand it athegither, but it's enough if ye think Mr. Andrew's in trouble." He paused for a moment, as if pondering, and then resumed: "The big shrimp-boat would take us doon faster, but she draws four feet and we'd want a punt to get ashore. I'm thinking we'll take the whammeler. She's a smart bit craft and we could pull her if there was need."

He gave Dick a bundle of black oilskins.

"Pit these on. Ye'll need them."

Dick thought this probable, for he was wearing only his thin, ordinary clothes.

"Thanks," he said, as he got into the oilskins, which were softer and more pliable than any he had seen in shops. "You see, I left in rather a hurry."

"I ken. An' noo we'll start."

His curtness was reassuring, for Dick knew his countrymen. The fellow's immediate business was to take him to the wreck, and he would fix his mind on doing so. It was obvious that there was something mysterious about their errand, but although the Scot is as curious as other people, he seldom asks unnecessary questions when there is work to be done. His habit is to concentrate upon the main issue.

They left the house, and a few minutes later crept along a slippery plank to a boat lying against a timber framework on which nets were dried. She was sharp at both ends, half-decked, and about twenty feet long; with a short, thick mast. Now that the tide had ebbed, the river mouth was about a dozen yards across, and a row of larger craft, sheering to and fro in the eddies, nearly filled the channel. Behind these, a cluster of white buildings and a low promontory loomed out of the dark. On the opposite side, a high gravel bank seemed to close the narrow entrance.

"Lowse the stern-mooring!" said the fisherman; and there was a harsh rattle of chain as the boat slid out into the stream.

He threw an oar into the sculling notch and they drifted away, slipping between the trawl-boats that rose out of the gloom and vanished astern. A minute later, the stream boiled noisily along the gravel bank, the white buildings faded, and they were swept into the darkness that brooded over the Firth. The fisherman hoisted a small, black lugsail and jib, and took the tiller as the boat listed gently down to a biting wind.

"Maybe ye'll find it warmer in the for'ad den," he said. "Ye can light the bit stove and set the kettle on."

Dick was shivering, and he was glad to crawl through a hatch into a narrow dark hole, where he lay down, after feeling for and lighting the stove. There was no room between floor and deck-beams to sit comfortably, but an old sail and some ropes made a couch on which he could rest. He felt shaky, and an unpleasant faintness threatened to overcome him.

He heard the water splash against the planks and felt the boat list. That was comforting, because he thought it was fourteen miles to the wreck. Still, the ebb would run nearly four miles an hour, there was some wind, and the whammel boats sailed fast. If his companion could keep her off the ground as the banks dried and the channel narrowed, they ought to arrive by low-water.

CHAPTER XXIX

WHEN THE TIDE TURNED

The wind fell as the tide drained out, and belts of mist hung motionless about the sands when the whammel boat crept slowly down to the mouth of the channel. The sail lay on deck, and Dick panted as he pulled an oar while his companion sculled astern. He felt faint, and the heavily ballasted boat was hard to move, but he thought the tide was turning now and he knew that he must hold out. Occasionally he turned and looked ahead, but saw nothing except the mist. There were no birds about, the water was smooth, and everything was very quiet. At length, a tall mast grew out of the haze and Dick stopped rowing.

"The Rowan. Scull her in to the bank," he said. "I want to see where the dinghy is."

They could not find her, but presently came upon a whammel boat lying near the edge of the sand.

"It's the Nance that Tam Grahame selt awa'," the fisherman remarked. "I canna' see what she's doing here with naebody on board."

"We'll pull off to the yacht," Dick replied.

The dinghy was not astern when they boarded the Rowan; and when Dick went below and lighted a lamp, his companion looked puzzled.

"It's queer! There's seeven feet o' watter, and Mr. Andrew wouldna' swim ashore."

"Not when he had the dinghy."

"But she's no' on the bank."

"I imagine she's out at sea, by now," Dick said grimly. "How long do you think the Nance has been here?"

"Maybe half an hour. Her keel's weel in the ground and the tide doesna' fall much on the last o' the ebb. They're no' expecting to be back until the flood makes, because her anchor's up the bank."