Polly's Southern Cruise

“We’ve spent half an hour looking for you. Dalky wants us to find Elizabeth and start back for the yacht,” added Nancy Fabian.

“We will have no trouble in starting for the yacht, but to find Elizabeth is quite a different matter,” laughed Tom.

John Brewster now came over to Tom and spoke. “Anne and I are going to pack our bags and come back on shore to-night, as Dalken says the Captain wishes to resume the voyage early in the morning. I thought you would want to get your bag, too, and come back with us. If you prefer remaining here, Anne says she can pack the suitcase and spare you the trip.”

“No, thank you! I’ll go with you and see as much of Polly as I can, before leaving her to sail away with no certain future for me in it!” exclaimed Tom, positively. John smiled.

The bell-boys having sought about quickly in every direction of the hotel and gardens returned, one by one, with the reply that Miss Elizabeth Dalken failed to respond to their calls. Mr. Dalken tipped each page as he reported to him, and then turned to his friends. “There’s nothing for it, but that I hunt her up myself, and permit you to go on to the yacht alone. I’ll come as soon as I locate my daughter.”

Polly caught a sympathetic glance from Mrs. Courtney’s eye in the direction of the troubled host, then the guests accepted the inevitable and left the man to seek Elizabeth in every niche and corner of the vast resort.

As the group of guests from the White Crest got near to the wharf where they had left the yacht, they were astonished to see the craft gone. They looked at each other and then all around to reassure themselves that they were not dreaming. A young colored night watchman on the dock saw the wondering expressions on their faces and spoke up.

“You-all a-lookin’ foh dat white yacht from Noo Yoork?”

“Yes, my boy; what can you tell us about it?” asked Mr. Ashby.

“Why, not much; onny, ’bout a nour ago, ’long comes a fine pert missy wid a lot of swells, an’ dey gits on bo’hd. Den de skippeh what was lef to watch the boat, comes off a’fumin’ mad, an’ says he’s goin’ to see ’bout dat! I heah’s him say somefin not werry nice to free er four dudes lef’ on deck, but dey laffs and waves a han’, so off he goes threatenin’ to get the boss on de job to onct! Fust ting I knows, the yacht up and sails away. I watches, ’cuz I got a stay on dis dock till mawnin’ and keep an eye on decency, an’ sure ’nuff, dat boat goes dancing off down coast. Lots of likker at a certain port dere, yuh see, and swells heah takes a trip down ebery onct in a while.”

“And you haven’t seen a sign of the yacht since then?” demanded Mr. Ashby, red hectic spots suddenly coming to his cheeks as symbols of his ire at such high-handed treatment of his friend.

“Beggin’ yur pawdon, suh, but I knows two of dem dudes, an’ I doubts if dey kin sail that yacht back straight to-night, if dey gets what dey sets out foh gittin. F’om all I heah said, dey went foh jus’ such a time.”

At this disturbing information, Mr. Ashby joined the negro for a moment and at his advice, turned and said: “Fabian, I’m going back for Dalken, but what had you-all better do meantime?” Mr. Ashby seemed anxious to meet his friend before he should come to the dock and learn the news from others.

“We will wait here for orders. The yacht may come in while you are gone, and in that case we will try to straighten out matters, and see that Elizabeth’s friends get quickly out of the way of her father’s righteous indignation.”

The moment Mr. Ashby left, Mrs. Courtney went over to the mulatto youth and spoke in a low voice. He replied in a tone too low to be heard by any one but the lady with him. Then she slipped him some money and returned to her own party.

“I learned that no older woman was in the party with Elizabeth, but a young divorcee and the several men who seemed past forty. I had judged from Elizabeth’s uncompromising attitude to us in our disregard to little matters concerning dinner dress and social nothings, that she would have been most strict and careful in such a delicate situation as this which she has brought about.”

Mr. Ashby had secured the names of the ports where those with enough money might secure liquor in spite of the dry laws, and it was his plan to hire the fastest car to be had and drive Dalken along the shore until they found the yacht and the runaways.

In telling the story to his friend, Mr. Ashby purposely shielded Elizabeth by making it appear that she was misled by her friends. But Mr. Dalken was not to be hoodwinked. He was an experienced man of the world, and he understood present-day flapperdom perfectly.

“Why take an automobile when we might get a launch and go on their track? I’m sure the launch would prove best, and it may be possible to find a large enough power launch to accommodate our party. Then we need not return to this hateful place. We can ship back the society cads in the launch and go on our way as planned.” Mr. Dalken seemed to consider the case with more coolness and sense than his friend had done.

“What about John and Anne and Tom? They expected to go ashore here, after getting their bags. And how about the crew?”

“John and Anne and Tom can leave us at Miami as well as at Palm Beach. As for the crew; the Captain’s orders were for every man to be on hand at the yacht at twelve. It is now past the time, and doubtless they will be waiting on the dock,” explained Mr. Dalken, having looked at his watch and then slipped it back into his pocket.

As predicted, the crew were all at the dock, standing in small groups; the Captain stood with Mr. Fabian, wondering what would be the outcome of this escapade. Mr. Dalken seemed perfectly cool and self-possessed as he called to the Captain.

“Get a craft at once – large enough to take us all. You understand, Captain Blake, that price is nothing now!”

The same negro youth, who had been the informer in the first place, now spoke up. “I knows whar you-all kin hire a fine big gaserline launch – my boss rents it out ebery day. I kin sen’ yuh dere.”

Giving Captain Blake minute directions to find the boat which was not far off, the negro gladly pocketed another windfall of money from the owner of the White Crest.

In less than twenty minutes the launch came alongside the wharf and its owner stepped out. “It’s the quickest and safest boat in Florida. Many’s the trip I takes to Havana during the season.”

Thus the weary party gladly got into the launch, and its owner started on the way to seek for and find the White Crest.

CHAPTER VI – MR. DALKEN’S PATERNAL TRAINING

Conversing pleasantly, and smoking one cigar after another, Mr. Dalken offered no cause for one to think he was boiling within, or that he was contemplating a severe correction for his daughter Elizabeth. But Mr. Ashby knew him so well that he would have felt more at ease had his friend expressed a little impatience and annoyance at the unexpected trick played by the girl.

The men in the party sat with the owner who drove the great launch through the calm waters, but ever and anon he swerved suddenly to avoid, as he said, reefs of coral hidden by the wavelets. He skirted the coast because they needed to keep a watchful lookout for the yacht which might have anchored at one of the many tiny inlets along the shore, where bootleggers thrived during the great social season in the South.

The yacht’s crew sat in the stern of the boat, but the ladies were comfortably at rest in the small saloon. There was but one absorbing thought and subject for them: what would be Elizabeth’s punishment when her father could judge her heedless act?

After stopping at several small ports, where it seemed likely they would find the White Crest at anchor with other crafts from the winter resorts, the owner of the launch remarked to Captain Blake:

“If they went to Satan’s Kitchen, they must’a had some wise birds along. Only the old hands dare go there and get their drinks. And the stuff is rank pizen, at that! Nuthin’ but liquid fire. Two or three young fools got knocked out by taking this bootlegger’s vile whiskey, and one feller cashed in his checks.”

The Captain made no reply, but it was not necessary.

“Satan’s Kitchen is a coupla miles in an inlet what dips in from the shore line at Delray. We won’t be able to see the yacht from outside, but that’s whar we’re bound to find the runaways, I’m thinking.”

“All right – drive in and we’ll soon know,” ordered Mr. Dalken, taking command for the first time since leaving Palm Beach.

Shortly after this the launch made a graceful curve and chugged carefully through shallow waters until it came to the narrow inlet mentioned by the captain of the boat. Having gone a very short distance inside this inlet, those on deck soon saw the White Crest anchored near a strip of glistening sandy beach. A rough pier of old planks ran out to the deep water in order to accommodate those who wished to land. Here the launch stopped.

“No, take us to the yacht. I wish to see my guests safely on board my own boat, and the crew in their places. Then if the other party is still on shore you may carry me back to this pier,” commanded Mr. Dalken.

Without any confusion or other sound than the subdued chug of the engine of the launch, the transfer of the party was made. Only the few sailors who had been left on the yacht that evening were found on board, so Mr. Dalken got back into the launch and was about to start for the pier when Mrs. Courtney urged Mr. Ashby to go with him.

“You see, no one can tell what may happen in such a place as this Satan’s Kitchen. Dalky is cool now, but what may he be should he find cause for chastising the men who dared to plan this runaway?”

Therefore, without asking his friend’s consent, Mr. Ashby jumped back into the launch and the boat started away. Those left on board the yacht learned that the Captain had orders to start out at once, and wait about half a mile off the shore. The launch would pick up the yacht there and transfer the owner and his friend.

To the anxious group of friends on the yacht it seemed that a long time had elapsed before they could hear the chugging of the returning launch, but in reality it was hardly half an hour from the time that Mr. Dalken and his friend Ashby had left the White Crest before they returned. Elizabeth Dalken was with them, but not a sign of any one of her companions on the recent excursion was to be seen.

Elizabeth, in moody silence, ran up the steps and went directly to her room. Mr. Dalken paid the owner of the launch and said in a tone that carried its own pointed meaning: “You comprehend that I am paying you for the hire of this craft until noon to-morrow?”

“I get you, Boss,” returned the man, bowing seriously. “Anyway, even if you were not so generous in your pay, I have no likings for such passengers who know better but act like sots.”

“All right. Start back for Palm Beach. I’ll follow in your wake.” So saying Mr. Dalken stepped aboard his own craft and waved the owner of the launch to proceed northward on his return trip.

Mr. Ashby said not a word of explanation to the curious friends waiting on deck, but Mr. Dalken spoke freely as if they were entitled to the story.

“We found just about the sort of scene as I expected to see at that den. Those men in the party, easily ten years my senior, only used the hare-brained divorcee and the younger girls as a means to obtain their end – that of running my yacht to the place where they knew they could get all the vile liquor they craved. Once there, they never gave a thought as to how their companions might fare. Hence I took my girl and left them to work it out as they saw best. There is no trolley or other transportation method of leaving the place, other than by boat or automobile, and of the latter there was none to be hired. I may have been a bit severe on the other young women in the party, but they should have taken all favorable conditions into consideration before they consented to run away with another man’s valuable property, in order to satisfy an abnormal curiosity about a notorious locality. I am thankful to say that I have saved my property from the scandal which would be sure to follow on the heels of a scrape such as those men I saw at Satan’s Kitchen are certain to rouse at one of their orgies. Now, however, it will be necessary for me to return to Palm Beach and prove that my yacht and my friends were anchored at the wharf till morning, and that Elizabeth and I were at the hotel at the dance.”

Mr. Dalken excused himself after concluding his explanation, and went to his daughter’s room to escort her to the hotel.

The interested colored man who had given Mr. Dalken the valuable information regarding the men who had taken possession of the White Crest without the owner’s consent or knowledge, now watched curiously as Mr. Dalken and his daughter left the craft and walked in the direction of the hotel.

The crowds were already thinning out on the ball-room floor, but enough representatives of society still remained to dance to the last note of the orchestra. As fortune had it, one of Mr. Dalken’s well-known friends and his family was present and saw the financier as soon as he stepped upon the floor to dance with Elizabeth.