Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 17

The loneliness of their walk affected both Madge and Phyllis. There were no houses on the island. It was visited in the autumn for duck shooting, and in the summer was used as a camping ground for a few fisher folk. The girls pa.s.sed only one man in their entire journey.

He was lying under a tree, fast asleep. A hat covered his face. As the two friends hurried by they did not seek to discover who the man was. He was a rough-looking fellow, and they preferred not to awaken him.

This time the deck of the shanty boat was deserted. It was noon. The other members of the small shanty colony must have been out on the water, for there was no one in sight.

The girls stood staring irresolutely at the boat. "I suppose the woman is indoors fixing the luncheon. I can see the smoke coming through the smokestack," declared Phil. "Shall we call to her, or just march boldly aboard her old boat?"

"I don't know," hesitated Madge. "I don't believe we ought to mention Mollie's note. We might get the child into more trouble."

Phyllis shook her head. "Well, then, you decide upon something. You always plan things better than I do. I think we had better say that we have come back to inquire of Captain Mike how long he expects Mollie to be away. Then we can insist on waiting until his sailboat returns."

The two girls strode bravely up the single, rickety board that served as the gangplank of the shanty boat. At their first step on the dock a yellow dog rushed to the door of the dirty kitchen and set up a furious barking. Behind him stood the menacing figure of the woman whom Madge and Phil had seen a short time before. About her torn skirts were cl.u.s.tered three or four stupid-looking, tow-headed children. It was impossible for Phil to conceive how beautiful Mollie could be a member of such a family. Yet the unfortunate girl had told Phyllis that she had known no other than the hard, joyless life she had always led.

It was Madge who opened the conversation this time. To her disappointment she received no different answer to her inquiries than had Phil. "Moll was gone." The woman did not know where she had gone and she didn't care. But she wasn't coming back. Further, Mollie's step-mother did not see what business Phil and Madge had in coming to ask about her.

"We are going to wait to talk to your husband," announced Phil with quiet decision.

"You git off my boat in a hurry," the woman snarled angrily. "You can stay on the island all day if you like, but you can't hang around here.

Mike won't be home before night, and he ain't goin' to tell you nothin'

then. You'll find the beach pretty comfortable; it's so nice and shady." The woman grinned maliciously.

The two girls sat down on the stretch of hot sand near the water. They were doggedly determined to wait as long as possible for Mike Muldoon's return. Mollie's pathetic appeal had touched Madge as deeply as it had Phil, and they were both resolved to help the child if they could.

The hours dragged by on leaden wings. Madge's head ached violently.

Phil was beginning to think longingly of the basket of food which she had left in the tent and wondering if it would do for her to go after it while Madge stayed on guard. As she sat deliberating as to what course of action would be the wisest, a sudden commotion arose among the children playing on the deck of the shanty boat. The dog began to bark furiously. "Mammy, here comes Pap," the oldest child cried.

The tired girls could see that a sailboat was being anch.o.r.ed near the sh.o.r.e. A few moments later Mike, who insisted on being called "Captain," got into a skiff and rowed toward the land.

Madge sprang to her feet and ran down to the edge of the water. She wished to attract Mike's attention before he went aboard his own shanty boat. To think with her was to act. She realized that she must speak to the man before his wife could tell him the nature of their errand.

If Mike Muldoon learned their real design, he might shut himself inside his shanty and refuse to talk to them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The girls ran down to the water's edge.]

Mike rowed toward his callers, who were anxiously waiting for him. As his boat sc.r.a.ped the sh.o.r.e his wife shrieked at him, "Come here fust, Mike! Don't you be goin' talkin' to the likes of them before I tells you somethin'."

She was too late. Captain Mike had already turned to Madge. He supposed the girls had come to engage his sailboat.

Captain Madge decided to try diplomacy. She did not wish to make the sailor angry. She hoped she might persuade him to do what they wished.

"We have not come to rent your sailboat today, Captain Mike," she announced cheerfully, "we are coming for that another time. What we wish now is to ask you what has become of your pretty daughter? We have crossed all the way over to the island to make her a call. And now we can't find her. We wish to make friends with her, if you don't mind."

"Moll can't make friends with n.o.body," Mike answered suspiciously, his skin turning a mottled red under its coat of tan. "I told you Moll was foolish."

"Yes, I know," answered Phil unwisely. "That is why we are so sorry for her."

Mike scowled darkly. "You ain't got no cause to be sorry for the gal.

Who told you she was treated mean? n.o.body don't hurt her. But you can't see her. She is sick."

"Why, your wife told us she had gone away!" exclaimed Phil impetuously.

She could have cried with regret the next moment, for she realized how foolish she had been.

"So she has gone away," Mike muttered, "and she is sick. I ain't no liar and my wife ain't neither."

"When will she come back, Captain Mike?" asked Madge in a friendly tone, hoping the t.i.tle of "captain" would soften the surly sailor.

"She's not comin' back," the man replied impatiently. "I've got to go to my dinner, and I ain't goin' to answer no more questions. Don't you come foolin' around this way any more; my old woman don't like it. I warn you for your good."

Phil was tired of deceit. She knew Mike had not told them the truth.

"Captain Mike," she demanded coolly, "have you put your daughter in an asylum? If you have, I think you have been both inhuman and cruel.

Mollie is not crazy. If you will tell us where she is we will look after her, and she need not bother you any more." She raised her dark eyes and gazed defiantly at the angry sailor, who shook his great red fist full in her face.

"You'll take a man's own daughter away from him, will you?" he raged.

"What makes you so interested in my gal? And who told you Moll was shut up with a lot of crazies? My Moll is going to be married; she has gone away to git her weddin' clothes."

He laughed tantalizingly into the girls' faces as though well pleased with his own joke.

"Mollie married?" Phil exclaimed in horror. "Why, she----" Then Phil stopped herself and inquired, with an innocent expression of interest, "Whom did you say Mollie was going to marry?"

"She is going to marry Bill Barnes, a friend of mine," retorted the sailor sarcastically, his heavy shoulders shaking with savage amus.e.m.e.nt. "He ain't much to look at. It's kind of a case of Beauty and the Beast with him and my Moll. But she's powerful fond of him."

"Mike!" a shrill voice screamed from the shanty boat kitchen, "come along in here."

Mike glared at his questioners, his face set in savage lines. "Don't never come here agin," he growled. "If you do, I ain't sayin' what will happen to you." Turning abruptly he strode toward his boat, leaving the girls standing where he had first met them.

There was nothing for Madge and Phil to do but to return once more to their own boat. "O Madge! it is too dreadful!" exclaimed Phil in a husky voice. "I understand now what poor Mollie meant. She said there was one thing she would never do, no matter how cruel her father might he with her. Of course, she knew they were going to try to force her to marry some frightful looking fisherman. We simply must try to find her and save her. It is a wicked shame!"

"Don't be so wretched, Phil," comforted Madge, though she felt equally miserable. "You are right; we must find out how to save poor, pretty Mollie. I can't think what we ought to do, just this minute, but we must do our best. Now I think we shall have to go home and talk things over with Miss Jenny Ann and the girls. We will come back to-morrow, prepared to make a fight to save Mollie. Surely she can't be married by that time."

The two friends stopped by the tent for their basket of food and sat down just outside it under a tree to eat their luncheon. Neither of them noticed that they had seated themselves with their backs to the water, and they were so interested in talking of Mollie that they gave no thought to the outgoing tide. By rising they could see their boat drawn up on the sh.o.r.e, where, as arranged with Lillian and Eleanor, it had been left by the farm boy. What they failed to notice, however, was the distance it lay from the water line, and they also had forgotten that it was time for the going out of the tide.

As they sat quietly eating their luncheon the sound of running feet was borne to their ears. Nearer and nearer they came. Then round the curve of the beach darted the object of their morning's search. With a wild cry she flung herself upon Phil. "You said you would help me,"

she moaned. "Oh, help me now." Little rivulets of water ran from her ragged clothing. The pupils of her dark blue eyes were distended with fear. Her dress was torn across her shoulder and an ugly bruise showed through it. There was a long, red welt on her cheek that looked as though it had been made with a whip, and another across one forearm.

Madge and Phyllis rushed toward the frightened girl. Phil put her arm protectingly about Mollie while Madge stood on guard. Resolution and defiance looked out from their young faces. They were not afraid of poor Mollie's captors. They would fight for her.

"How did you come to us? Where have you been?" questioned Phil.

Five minutes had pa.s.sed and no one had appeared. "Sit down here, Mollie. We won't let any one hurt you."

"I was hidden in the shanty boat, locked in a dark closet," faltered Mollie, casting a terrified glance about her. "I heard you ask for me, but I could not come out. The woman is more cruel to me than the man.

She would have killed me. But when my father came home he was so angry because you had been to see me that he beat me and said I must marry Bill to-morrow, before you could come back to help me. Oh, he is horrible! I won't marry him! I'll die first! I crawled through a porthole in the boat when I heard what they said. I dropped into the water and swam and swam until I could land on the beach out of sight of my father's boat. Then I ran until I found you. But they will try to find me. They may be looking for me now. Tell me, tell me what I must do?"

"Don't be frightened," soothed Madge. "They can't force you to marry Bill or any one else against your will. Phil and I will take care of you. Come with us. We are going over to our houseboat now. Your father need not know what has become of you. Hurry!" Madge was listening intently for sounds announcing the coming of Mollie's pursuers. So far the girls were safe. A moment more and they would be in their rowboat.

Linking their arms within Mollie's her rescuers hurried her along.

Straight to the water's edge they ran, then a cry of consternation went up from the two girls.

"O Madge! what shall we do? We forgot all about the tide," mourned Phil. "It has gone out, and now we'll have to drag our heavy boat half a mile through the sand to the water or else wait until the tide runs in again before we can get away from the island."