Madge Morton's Secret Part 23

The little band of voyagers watched the slowly receding sh.o.r.es of their isle. They threw kisses across the water. As the land faded from sight all their difficulties faded with it. The weeks on the deserted island became the jolliest lark of their lives. It took its place at the top of their list of happy memories.

No one on board the "Merry Maid" seemed to feel any fear for their adventurous voyage. The morning spelled hope and good-luck. A returning ship would bear them sh.o.r.eward soon.

"Isn't the world lovely, Nellie?" asked Madge almost wistfully, as the two cousins watched the sun change from a golden ball to an all-enveloping light. "I feel that we will soon be home again and our experiences will fade from us like a dream. I wonder if Mrs. Curtis and Tom are still at Old Point Comfort? How they must have searched for us!

As for Uncle and Aunt, I can't bear to think of them."

Lieutenant Jimmy, Phil, Miss Jenny Ann, Lillian and Jeff were eagerly scanning the water. If a ship should appear, it could be seen many miles off on such a gloriously bright morning.

Lieutenant Jimmy had the precious rifle in his hand. In his pocket were their last few rounds of ammunition. Lieutenant Lawton's face was as radiant as though he were aboard one of Uncle Sam's own battleships. He was free! The blue waters rolled beneath his feet. What did it matter to a sailor the kind of a ship he sailed?

Phyllis Alden stood next to him. Her black eyes were bright with courage and enthusiasm.

Together they saw first a great, gray cloud of smoke. It was too dark and too low to be a part of the sky on such a morning. Then, moving slowly toward them, still many miles away, appeared the dim outline of a magnificent gray bulk of a ship.

Jimmy Lawton's face, which was white and thin from its long imprisonment, flushed deeply. His voice shook when he turned to Phil.

"Miss Alden," he whispered quietly, "I am afraid to say so, but I believe I see a man-of-war coming this way. It must be going in to Hampton Roads. If it only comes near enough to hear us, I mean to fire a signal of distress with this rifle."

The next quarter of an hour was a strenuous one for every pa.s.senger on board the "Merry Maid."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Battleship Drew Nearer.]

Slowly the majestic, gray craft drew nearer to the little houseboat.

The party crowded forward. No one spoke.

Nailed to their flagstaff, two torn and ragged sheets that had so long appealed in vain for rescue flapped and rustled in the wind.

The women and Jeff saw Lieutenant Lawton raise the rifle to position.

Still he waited five, ten minutes. All this time the beautiful battleship steamed nearer. Now her prow was just across the line of the stern of the houseboat. The houseboat party could see the Stars and Stripes floating gloriously in the breeze.

While it was easy for the pa.s.sengers of the "Merry Maid" to behold an immense battleship it was another matter for the crew on the man-of-war to discover the small pleasure craft adrift on the waters.

Jimmy Lawton fired his rifle. The signal of distress rang sharp and true. The clear air carried the sound magnificently.

At first there was no response from the battleship.

"She has not heard us!" exclaimed impatient Madge in despair.

"Wait!" commanded the young lieutenant.

A splendid boom broke on the air. It was the answering salute from the war vessel. She had heeded the call of the "Merry Maid."

Jimmy repeated his signal of distress. A few moments after the great battleship slowed down. A small boat was dropped over her side. A boat's crew in their blue uniforms rowed swiftly out to the houseboat.

A voice called up: "Who's there, and what can we do for you?"

"Lieutenant James M. Lawton, U.S.N., with six friends, five of them women," returned Jimmy Lawton. "We have drifted from land in a houseboat and ask you to take us aboard."

Soon after Miss Jenny Ann and the girls were safe on board a battleship belonging to the American Navy. The officer in command gave them his hand of welcome. A group of sailors, their faces beaming with curiosity and kindness, crowded as near them as discipline would permit.

The man-of-war took on headway again. Her engines thumped. The superb ship began to move. The houseboat party knew that their peril was over.

Home and friends lay safe ahead of them.

Yet neither Miss Jenny Ann nor one of her four girls looked perfectly happy.

"Won't you let me show you to your cabins?" one of the officers suggested.

Reluctantly the five women turned away. But they could not help letting their glances linger with mournful affection on the departing ghost of the poor "Merry Maid." The little boat rocked forlornly on the waves, once more deserted by her friends and owners.

Lieutenant Lawton whispered to Madge and Phyllis: "As soon as we get into Hampton Roads I promise you to send out a schooner to search these waters until she finds your houseboat. The 'Merry Maid' will be lonely without her pa.s.sengers, I've no doubt. But I do not believe that any harm will come to her."

The man-of-war was expected to enter the harbor of Hampton Roads some time during the afternoon. The girls sat on deck with the captain, who showed them the distant lightship on Cape Charles, and finally the point of land along the Virginia coast where the first English settlers landed in America, on April 26, 1607.

Captain Moore was tremendously interested in the girls and their adventures and experiences. When the ramparts of Fortress Monroe lay off the quarter he reluctantly said good-bye. But he beckoned Madge away from the other chums and walked with her slowly to the prow of his great ship.

"Miss Morton," he said kindly, "I want to talk to you alone. Your chaperon has told me something of your history. Your father was a cla.s.smate of mine at Annapolis, and one of the best friends I ever had."

Madge choked and was silent. She did not know what to say, what questions to ask.

"I know that in after years your father got into serious trouble. He was court-martialed because of cruelty to a subordinate," Captain Moore went on. He shook his head gravely. "I never understood it. Robert Morton was one of the kindest and tenderest of men. He was rash and quick-tempered, but he never did a cruel trick as a boy, and a lad shows the stuff the man is made of."

"Captain Moore!" Madge's voice shook, she was obliged to keep a tight hold on the railing of the ship to steady herself, but she looked her new friend squarely in the face, her own white with pain, "do you know if my father is alive?"

Captain Moore was startled. "It can't be that you don't know that, child?" he protested.

"But I don't," she said bravely. "I have always just taken it for granted that he died when I was a baby, because I never saw him nor heard from him. Lately I have had reason to think that he may just have disappeared after his trouble. It has been so long that perhaps he may have died since."

Captain Moore took her hand in his. He looked at her earnestly. She was like the boy he remembered in the olden days, the same deep-toned auburn hair, the same clear blue eyes and skin that flushed and paled so readily, the same proud spirit.

"I do not know whether your father is dead or alive, child. I, too, took it for granted that he was out of the world, as we saw him no more. But I want to promise you one thing. From now on I will look for him whether I am on land or on sea. Some day, somewhere, I shall hear news of him. I wish you to remember that if ever you need a friend, you have only to let me know. I am ashamed to think that I have let this strange freak of circ.u.mstance find Robert Morton's daughter for me. I should have looked you up years ago. Do you know what a fellow's chum means to him when he is a boy at school?" Captain Moore queried, less seriously. "Don't you think a man ought to wish to do something for that fellow's little girl?"

Madge smiled. She knew that men hated tears. "Perhaps I shall ask you to help me some day," she said. "I thank you for your interest and for the splendid things you have said of my father. It is good to know that some of his brother officers believe in him, and because you have had faith in him I will tell you this much: my father was not guilty of the charges laid at his door. In being true to his own code of honor he lost his good name. There is only one person in the world who can give it back to him, and because I respect my father's wishes my lips are also sealed. But, alive or dead, Captain Robert Morton was or is innocent."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SURPRISE

Up and down, up and down the old wharf, with his eyes turned ever toward the sea, a young man walked. His face was tanned, but it had a haggard look under the sun-burn. Tom Curtis, alone among all the friends and relatives, believed that news might yet be heard of the lost girls. That day he had crossed over to Portsmouth to receive the report from a boat that had been specially sent out with a dredging machine to drag the bottom of the bay near the spot where the houseboat had been anch.o.r.ed. The report received was--no news! No news was good news--from such a source.

The houseboat party had hardly realized the tremendous anxiety and excitement that their mysterious disappearance off the face of the waters had caused. Mr. and Mrs. Butler had come from their home to devote every hour of the day and night to searching for the lost girls.

Mr. and Mrs. Seldon had only gone back to Philadelphia the day before, as Tom had promised to telegraph them the moment that any news was received. Dr. Alden had left his patients to take care of themselves while he endeavored to trace the whereabouts of his beloved Phil. Even Miss Matilda Tolliver, princ.i.p.al and proprietor of the Select Seminary for Girls at Harborpoint, Maryland, had departed from her school for the s.p.a.ce of forty-eight hours to make the proper personal investigations for her four lost pupils and her teacher. Until she appeared on the scene herself, she felt sure no really intelligent effort had been made to find them.

Mrs. Curtis was still at Old Point Comfort with Tom. Madeleine had gone back to New York. Mrs. Curtis felt herself to be responsible for the whole disaster of the lost houseboat. If she had not invited the girls to anchor in such dangerous waters, their boat would never have torn loose from its moorings.