The Phantom Yacht

A GLOOMY SWAMP

The girls were as eager as the boy to view the old ruin from the water, and the breeze being brisk, they were quickly blown down the coast and into the quiet sheltered water beyond the point. “O, Gib,” Dories cried fearfully, “do be careful! There are logs under the water along here that come nearly to the top. Is it a wreck?”

“No, ’taint. It’s all that’s left of the long dock I was tellin’ yo’ about whar the Phantom Yacht used to tie up. Pa said ol’ Colonel Wadbury had lights clear to the end of it and that, when ’twas lit up, ’twas a purty sight.”

“It must have been,” Nann agreed. Then Dories inquired: “Doesn’t it make you feel strange to realize that you are on the very spot where the Phantom Yacht once sailed?”

“And where some day it may sail again,” Nann completed.

The high rocky point cut off the wind and so Gib let the sail flap as they slowly drifted toward the swamp.

“Thar’s all that’s left of that sea wall I was tellin’ about,” the boy nodded at huge rocks half sunken in mire.

“The reeds are higher than our heads,” Dories commented; then she asked, “Is there a path through the marsh, do you think, Gib?”

“No, I’m sure thar ain’t one,” the boy declared. “Me’n Dick Burton would have found it if thar had been. We’ve looked times enough from the land side. We never could get here by water, bein’ as we didn’t have a boat. That’s why I’ve been savin’ to get a punt. Dick, he put in some toward it, an’ so its half his’n.”

“Who is Dick Burton?” Nann inquired.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Gib seemed surprised. “Sort o’ thought o’ course you knew ’bout the Burtons. Dick’s folks own the cabin that’s nearest the rocks. He’s a city feller ’bout my age, or a leetle older, I reckon. He’s been comin’ to these parts ever since we was shavers. You’d ought to know him,” this to Nann, “he lives in Boston, whar you come from.”

The girl addressed laughed good-naturedly. “Gib,” she queried, “have you ever been up to Boston?”

The boy reluctantly confessed that he had not. Then the girl explained that since it was much larger than Siquaw Center, two people might live there forever and not become acquainted.

“Yeah.” Gib had evidently not been listening to the last part of Nann’s remark. “I do wish Dick was here now that we’ve got the punt,” he said. “I sure sartin wish he was.”

“Why?” Dories inquired as she let one hand drift in the cool water.

“Wall, me’n he allays thought maybe thar was a channel through the swamp up toward the old ruin. If he was here we’d set out to find it.”

“But why can’t Dori and I help you as much as he could?” Nann queried. “I believe you are right, Gib,” she continued before the boy had time to reply. “I’ve seen swamps before, and there was always a narrow channel through them where the tide washed when it was high. See ahead there, where the swamp comes down to the water’s edge, I wish you’d take the sail down, Gib, and row as close to it as you can.”

The boy looked his amazement.

“But, I say, Miss Nann, like’s not we’d hit a snag, like’s not we would.”

“Who’s skeered now?” the girl taunted. The boy flushed. “Not me!” he protested, and taking down the sail he rowed along the water side of the dense reedy growths. “Yo’ see thar’s nothin’,” he began when Nann, leaning forward, pointed as she cried excitedly, “There it is! There’s an opening in the swamp leading right up to that haunted house.”

Nann was right. A narrow channel of clear water appeared among the reeds that were higher than their heads. It led toward the middle of the marsh and was wide enough for a larger boat than theirs to pass through.

“Now, the next question is, do we dare go in?” Nann was gleeful over her find and how she wished that Gib’s friend, Dick Burton, were there to share with them that exciting moment.

“Well, that question is easy to answer,” Dories hastened to say. “We most certainly do not dare.”

The boy, having removed his nondescript cap, was scratching his ear in a way that he always did when puzzled. Then there was a sudden eager light in his red-brown eyes. Replacing his hat, he seized the oars and began to row rapidly back up the shore and toward the row of eight cottages.

Nann was puzzled and voiced her curiosity. “Got to get back to Siquaw in time for the ten-ten train,” was all the information she received.

Since he had said nothing of this when they started out, and had seemed to be in no hurry whatever, Nann naturally wondered about it.

Some light might have been thrown on his action had she seen him, one hour later, as he sat on the high stool at his father’s desk in the general store. He was painstakingly writing, and, when the ten-ten train arrived, Gibralter Strait was on the platform waiting to send to the nearby city of Boston the very first letter that he had ever written.

CHAPTER XVI

OUT IN THE DARK

All the next day the girls waited and watched, but Gibralter Strait appeared neither on land nor on sea to explain his queer actions. Their hostess asked Dories to read to her and so the morning was passed in that way. Nann, busy at a piece of fancy work she was making for a Christmas present, sat listening. In the afternoon the girls were told to amuse themselves. This they did by climbing to the “tip-top rock,” sitting there in the balmy sun and speculating about the old ruin; about the reason for Gib’s sudden departure for his home the day before, and about the boy and girl who had sailed away on the Phantom Yacht. It was not until a fog, filmy at first, but rapidly increasing in density, began to hide the sun that they thought of returning homewards. As they passed the cabin nearest the rocks, Dories said, “This is the Burton cottage, I suppose. I wonder if Dick is our kind of boy?”

“Meaning what?” Nann wondered.

“O, you know as well as I do. I like Gib, of course. He’s a splendid boy, but he hasn’t had a chance. I merely meant a boy from families like our own.”

“I rather think so,” Nann replied, as she gazed at the boarded-up cabin. Then suddenly she stopped and stared at one of the upper windows. The blind had opened ever so slightly and then had closed again, but of this Nann said nothing. She was afraid that she was becoming almost as imaginative as Dories. Then suddenly she recalled something. Gib had said that his father had seen a light in the old ruin the night before. And what was more, she and Dories knew there had been someone carrying a lantern on the beach near the rocks at least twice since they had been there. What if the lantern-carrier hid in the Burton cottage during the day? He couldn’t live in the old ruin, since it had only one wall standing.

Luckily, Dories had been interested in watching the waves breaking at her feet. Turning, she called, “O, but it’s getting cold and damp. Let’s run the rest of the way.”

When they reached their home cabin, Nann went at once to inquire if Miss Moore wished her supper. The girl was sure that she heard a scurrying noise in the old woman’s room. The door was closed and there was silence for a brief moment before she was told to enter. Puzzled, Nann glanced quickly at the bed and noted that the old woman’s cap was awry. She also saw something else that puzzled her, but she merely said, “What would you like tonight with your tea, Miss Moore?”

“Nothing at all but toast, and tell Dories to be sure it doesn’t burn. I don’t relish it when it has been scraped.” The tone in which this was said was impatient and fretful. It was evident that the old woman was not in as pleasant a mood as she had seemed to be in the morning.

Returning to the kitchen, where the kettle was already boiling, Nann made the tea and toasted the bread as well as she could over the blaze; then Dories arranged her aunt’s tray attractively and took it in to her. While she was gone, Nann stood staring out of the window at the gathering dusk. She believed she had a clue to one of the mysteries surrounding them, but decided not to tell her friend until she was a little more certain about it herself.

When Dories returned to the kitchen she said, “Day-dreaming, Nann?”

“No, dusk-dreaming,” was the smiling reply; then, “Now let’s get our evening repast. What shall it be?”

Together they looked in the closet, each selecting a canned vegetable and something for desert. “This is a lazy way to live,” Nann began, when Dories exclaimed: “Do you realize that we haven’t had one of those notes today? I believe my bell scared away the ghost after all.”

Nann laughed merrily. “Nary a bit of it, my friend. Didn’t his spooky highness tie his last note to the bell clapper? I suppose that is why we didn’t hear it tinkle again.”

“But we haven’t found a note today – O dear!” Dories broke off to exclaim: “The fire must be going out, Nann,” she called; “you’re the magician when it comes to stirring up a blaze. What do you suppose is the matter?”

A quick glance within brought the amused answer: “Wood needed, my dear, that’s all! Which reminds me of Dad’s wondering why the car won’t go when it’s out of gas.” As she spoke she turned toward the wood box and found it empty. “Hmm!” she ejaculated, “that means one of us will have to hie out to the shed after more wood if we want a hot supper.”

Dories, after a swift glance at the black fog-hung window, suggested, “Let’s change our menu and have a cold spread.”

“Nixy, my dear,” Nann said brightly. “I’ll be wood-carrier. I’ll sally forth with a lighted lantern, like that mysterious midnight prowler. I won’t be able to bring in much wood, but I believe a piece or two will provide all the heat we’ll need to warm up canned things.” She was lighting the lantern as she talked. The lamp was burning on the kitchen table, and, while her friend was gone, Dories laid out the dishes and silver.

Nann, having reached the shed, groped about for the leather thong. To her surprise the door was not fastened, and, as she stood peering into the dense blackness, she was sure that she heard a scrambling noise inside. Then all was still. Nann scratched one of the matches that she had brought with her. In the far corner stood an empty barrel and in front of it was piled the wood that she and Dories had gathered on the beach. Not another thing was to be seen, and although she stood listening intently for several seconds, not another sound was heard.

“A rat probably,” the girl thought as she placed her lantern on the floor and picked up several pieces of wood.

Returning to the kitchen, Nann threw her armful of wood into the box near the stove, when Dories suddenly leaped forward, exclaiming excitedly, “There it is. There’s the note we have been wondering about.”

“Why – why, so it is!” Nann stared as though she could hardly believe her eyes. Then, springing up, she cried joyfully: “Dories Moore, we’ve caught the ghost. He was leaving this paper when I went out. He must still be in the woodshed somewhere, for I bolted the door on the outside. He must have been hiding in that old empty barrel when I looked in. Light the lantern again and let’s go out this minute and see who is there.”

Although Dories was not enthusiastic over the prospect of capturing a ghost in a woodshed on so dark a fog-damp night, yet, since her companion was ready to start, she couldn’t refuse to accompany her, and so, after closing the kitchen door, they stole along the path leading from the porch to the shed that was nearer the swamp. Suddenly Dories clutched her friend’s arm, whispering, “Hark. What’s that?”