CHAPTER XXVII
A DAY ON DARTMOOR
"SAY, Greenwood, I feel an odd man out with this little crew. Nip inand come along to keep me company. While these young people areroaming over the moors, we'll try our luck with the trout."
The speaker was Dr. Cardyke. A week had elapsed since the "Merope"had put in to Dartmouth. The court of enquiry was a thing of thepast, and the surviving officers and men of the "Heracles" had beengiven leave.
Tressidar had gone home, having first given young Greenwood a readypromise to put in a day or two at the Greenwoods' house, and now thesub. was fulfilling his obligations.
On the morning following Tressidar's arrival the genial doctor hadgiven the Greenwoods and their guest an invitation for a "spin inthe car." Cardyke's "spin" meant a whole day on the breezy uplands ofDartmoor. Mrs. Greenwood, still feeling the reaction of her prolongedsuspense, was unable to go. Her husband, having to report himselfthat night for duty with the National Guards, also "cried off,"though not without regret. Yet, he argued proudly, work in theservice of one's country that does not entail self-sacrifice isn'tworth being called patriotism.
Consequently the doctor's guests were Doris and her friend NorahWard, Eric and Ronald, and, in view of the possibility, nayprobability, that he would have to commune with nature while theyouthful picnickers roamed the moors, he again threw out aninvitation to his old crony with the alluring prospect oftrout-fishing thrown in.
"Duty, Cardyke, duty," protested Mr. Greenwood, although the doctorsaw that he was wavering. "Must report at Ferncoombe Reservoir ateleven-thirty to-night."
"We'll be back long before then," said the doctor tentatively.
"I know what your motor spins are, my dear fellow," rejoined Mr.Greenwood. "It's a good hour and a half's tramp from here toFerncoombe, remember."
"Look here, slip into your uniform. A trout won't fight shy of a flyany more for that, you know. We'll have a topping time, and I'll dropyou at Ferncoombe on the return journey."
Greenwood senior figuratively hauled down his colours. With greatalacrity he donned his uniform of the National Guard, deposited hisrifle and fishing-tackle in the car, and took his seat alongside thedoctor. The rest of the party were already in occupation of theremaining "crew-space," together with a well-filled hamper andDoris's Irish terrier.
Over the hilly road the car sped, until it gained the outskirts of alittle village on the fringe of the wildly majestic Dartmoor.
"She's running badly," remarked the doctor to his companion."Deucedly strange. I never knew her to act like that before and on aday like this."
He slowed down and pulled up. An examination revealed the fact thatthe radiator tank was empty.
"Not a serious matter," declared Dr. Cardyke. "I'll ask for a can ofwater at yonder cottage." A comely, sun-bonneted Devonshirecountrywoman willingly complied with his request. While engaged inrefilling the tank the doctor casually noticed that two men werepassing.
"Joy-riding in war-time," remarked one to his companion in a tonethat was obviously intended for the motorists' ears. "Pity thoseyoung fellows haven't anything better to do."
Tressidar and the A.P. smiled. They regarded the remark as a joke.Being in mufti, they had been taken for a pair of young slackers.
Not so Dr. Cardyke. Setting the can of water on the ground, he stroderesolutely up to the man who had uttered the uncalled-for remark.
"Allow me to inform you," he said cuttingly to the somewhatastonished fellow, "that these gentlemen are naval officers. Bothhave been in action, and on two occasions their ships have been minedor torpedoed. The young lady [indicating Doris] is a nurse at a navalhospital that has been under hostile fire. Her companion is avoluntary Red Cross worker. My friend here, in spite of his years,is, as you see, a member of the National Guard; while I, a medicalman, am engaged in purely voluntary work at three military hospitalsin the district. If we choose to take a well-earned holiday, is itany concern of yours? Now, since you have interfered with ourbusiness, perhaps you will not object if I meddle with yours. Whatare you doing for your country?"
"I am engaged on the registration of women workers on the land,"replied the man airily.
"Should have thought that the registration part was essentially awoman's work," rejoined Dr. Cardyke drily. "But is that all? Surelyyou have made an effort to serve in His Majesty's forces?"
"I'm over age," declared the man.
"Then that accounts for it," said the doctor triumphantly. "I noticedthat those who are so keen upon urging others to 'do their bit' havegood reason, or think they have good reason, for backing outthemselves. Yes, sir, I said backing out. Allow me to inform you thatno recruiting officer would question your statement if you said youwere under forty. Try the experiment or perhaps you haven't thepluck."
The busybody slunk away, and the triumphant doctor returned tocomplete his task.
The journey was resumed. Up and up climbed the car 'twixt frowningtors and across stretches of wild moor clad in yellow gorse, throughwhich trickled numerous mountain torrents on their way to feed thesilvery Dart. Frequently a startled rabbit would rush across the roadand dive for safety into the brushwood. Wild birds, alarmed by thepurr of the motor, fled with strange cries to seek a more secludedground. Once a red fox, caught napping, bounded frantically across astream. These were the only signs of life visible from the car. Ofhuman habitation, not a vestige in the wild expanse.
At length the doctor drove the car very gently on to the side of theroad and stopped. This precaution was hardly necessary, since passingvehicles were few and far between.
"Now, you young people," he exclaimed, "it's a couple of hours tolunch time, unless you are ravenous already. Come along, Greenwood.Where's your tackle? A cloudy morning like this ought to make thetrout rise. There's a capital stream less than a quarter of a mileaway."
By tacit consent the party separated, Tressidar and Doris makingtheir way in one direction, the A.P. and Norah in another. Whencethey went and the nature of the conversation was a matter thatconcerned themselves. At any rate, it was safe to conjecture thatthey were engrossed in each other's company, since the sub. and hiscompanion returned twenty minutes after the prearranged time and theA.P. and Norah a quarter of an hour later to find that the doctor andGreenwood senior were still lost to time and the call of hunger andwere lingering over their rods by the swiftly rushingmountain-stream.
At length, in high spirits, the party assembled for lunch, thefishermen displaying with pardonable pride the successful result oftheir sport.
"Now, then, Tressidar," sang out the doctor as he prepared to cut aveal and ham pie, "make yourself useful. You might uncork thesebottles."
"Shall I dissect the pie, sir?" asked the sub.
"The pie?" repeated Dr. Cardyke. "That's what I'm doing. Why do youask?"
"We'll have to hoist the S.O.S. signal if you carry on," saidTressidar, laughing. "Already you've dropped a fish-hook into thegravy, and it looks as if there are more to follow."
"A good excuse to remove my coat," rejoined the doctorgood-humouredly. "It certainly is hot for this time of year."
According to the custom adopted by freshwater fishermen, Dr. Cardykehad stuck his spare hooks in the sleeve of his coat, and one of them,being insufficiently held by the barb, had fallen into the pie-dish.
After lunch the young officers and their fair companions saunteredoff, while Greenwood senior and the doctor had "forty winks,"followed by another bout of friendly rivalry by the trout stream.
"By Jove, Doris, isn't this simply great?" exclaimed Tressidarenthusiastically, as the pair gained the top of a rugged tor. "Justlook at the expanse of country. Looks a bit misty down in thevalleys, though. I hope it won't get too thick. Say, do you mind if Iget a pipe under way?"
The rest of the afternoon passed only too quickly. The slanting raysof the sun cast long shadows athwart the gorse as they made their wayback to the spot that the sub. had termed the rendezvous. By thistime the mist was rising from the low-lying
ground and creepingslowly up the hillsides, until the tors looked like islands in a seaof slowly drifting fog.
"It will be pretty thick lower down," declared Eric during the courseof tea. "Driving through the mist is jolly tricky."
"Pooh!" exclaimed Dr. Cardyke. "Not with reasonable care. We'll shakeit off before we get to Bovey Tracey."
It was not long before the doctor found that very considerablecaution was necessary, for the fog was so dense that it was hardlypossible to distinguish the narrow road from the rest of the moor.
"Can you see where we're going, Greenwood?" he asked. "Frankly, Ican't. It's the worst fog I've ever struck."
"I haven't been able to see anything of the road for the last twentyminutes," confessed Greenwood senior. "I think I'll change placeswith young Tressidar. He's used to peering through mist, I shouldimagine."
The car stopped and the change was effected, but Ronald found that hehad hopelessly lost his bearings. Everything visible was grotesquelydistorted by the fog, and magnified out of all proportion.
"Hold hard!" he exclaimed after another mile or so had been coveredat almost crawling pace. "There's something right ahead."
The "something" proved to be a sign-post at the fork of two roads.None of the party had noticed it on the outward journey. Slowly thecar was brought alongside. It was the only way to read thedirections, if such existed. Unfortunately they didn't. Thefinger-post, neglected and weather-beaten, was devoid of wording.
"There's a map in that case," observed the doctor. "Would you mindgetting it out? We'll soon see where we are."
The map was worse than useless. It was a delusion and a snare, fornowhere within ten miles of where the car was supposed to be was afork road shown.
"What's wrong?" enquired the A.P. from the rear of the car.
"Out of our bearings. Suppose you don't happen to have brought acompass?" said the sub. "Unless we are going in exactly the oppositedirection to the right one, there's not a fork road anywhere about,according to this map."
"Don't forget I'm due at Ferncoombe tonight," sung out Mr. Greenwoodjocularly. "Now, Cardyke, get a move on."
Thus rallied, the doctor took the plunge. He restarted the car andfollowed the right-hand road, arguing with himself that it must leadsomewhere, and that the fog wouldn't be so thick when clear of themoors.
An hour passed. The car had covered certainly not more than fourmiles. The doctor was showing signs of the severe strain it imposedupon his vision and mental powers, but tactfully refusing Tressidar'soffer to drive, he stuck gamely to the steering-wheel.
It was now getting dark--and the doctor never drove at night unlessit could not be avoided, and then only on roads with which he waswell acquainted. With the decline of day the fog lifted slightly, andshowed promise of dispersing.
Having stopped to light the lamps--merely a matter of complying withthe law, since the obscured glasses gave hardly any illumination,certainly not enough to enable the occupants of the car to avoid anobstruction in time--the tedious journey was resumed, but at aslightly increased speed.
"Now I think I know where we are," declared the doctor; but the nextmoment he found out his mistake, for the car was on the point ofcharging a flock of sheep.
A turn of the steering-wheel did the trick. Missing the foremostsheep by inches, the car mounted a slight bank by the roadside andcommenced to slide down the steeply shelving slope of a deep valley.
The doctor shoved on the brakes. Although the wheels were locked andthe momentum retarded, the car continued its involuntary glide. ThenTressidar had a vague impression that he was flying through the air,and the next thing he knew was that he was sitting in a mostaggressive gorse-bush.