CHAPTER XIII
FIRE!
About eleven o'clock next morning Warrender and Pratt landed from themotor-boat at the ferry, and, inquiring of the ferryman the way to Mr.Crawshay's house, struck up the hilly road that ran westward from theright bank of the river. Mr. Crawshay, it was true, had invited them tomake straight for the house across the fields; but they had decided thatit would be more becoming, on this first visit, to observe the customaryforms.
The house stood amid well-kept grounds, about as far west of the riveras Mr. Pratt's was in the opposite direction.
The apple-cheeked maid-servant who answered their ring announced thather master was out, and would not return till the afternoon.Disappointed, they were leaving when Lilian Crawshay, who had recognisedWarrender's voice as she descended the stairs, called to them.
"You wanted to see my father, Mr. Warrender?" she asked, as they turnedback.
"Yes; I'm sorry he's out, but we'll call again this afternoon."
"What a pity, when you have so far to go! Can't I give him a message?Won't you come in and see Mother?"
"It's very good of you, but we have some shopping to do in the village,or Armstrong will get no lunch. It will be no trouble to come again. Weget up and down very quickly in the motor-boat."
"Well, then come up in time for tea. Father will be home then; he hasonly gone on some stupid business of quarter-sessions. And bring Mr.Armstrong with you. Mother was greatly interested in the 'ThreeMusketeers.'"
"Thank you very much."
"Good-bye, then, for the present. Tea is at half-past four."
"Why didn't you tell her we can't all come?" said Pratt, as they walkedaway.
"Because it's clear that the old man hasn't said anything about ouraffairs, and I couldn't anticipate him with explanations. We'll tossfor the odd man."
On returning to the ferry Pratt went on to the village to make somenecessary purchases, leaving Warrender to forestall gossip by informingRogers of their change of plan. Warrender rapped on the door.
"Bain't opening time yet," called a voice from above. Mrs. Rogers'shead appeared at an open window. "Oh, beg pardon; 'tis you, sir. Wehave to be that careful; Constable Hardstone be always on the prowl.You'll find Rogers in the garden, sir--through that little gate. And ifso be you find he haven't got his hair on, I beseech 'ee to mind him ofit; he's that careless of his brains, and I know they'll be broiled someday."
The innkeeper, with his wig awry, was pinching out his tomatoes. Hesmiled when Warrender told him of the projected removal of the camp.
"'Tis what I expected--ay, and all the village likewise," he said.
"We find the island a trifle inconvenient, you know," said Warrender, inpursuance of the understanding he had come to with his companions thattheir real reason should not at present be disclosed.
"Ay sure, that's what we all said. The neighbours wondered how longyou'd stand it."
"Stand what?" asked Warrender, wondering whether any whispers of thetruth had got abroad.
"Why, them sperits. Flesh and blood you can deal with, but when itcomes to sperits they're bound to get the better of you, give 'em time.You can't get hold of 'em no way. Smite 'em, you might as well smitethe wind. I've been here and there about the world in my time, and Itell 'ee I wouldn't spend a night on that island not if you doubled mypension."
"Well, we did hear some very queer sounds last night. Of course, it wasvery windy. I expected rain to-day, but it has cleared up. By the way,are there any coastguards about here?"
"There's Lloyd's signal station away at the point yonder. I go over nowand again for a crack and a smoke with an old messmate of mine."
"How far is it?"
"Four mile or so. You go past Mr. Crawshay's, then sheer off to theleft and get into the old coastguard track over the cliffs."
"I'll take a walk out there some day. We haven't seen much of theneighbourhood yet. There's no signal station in the village, of course."
"No; we're too far from the sea. Have 'ee heard what they're sayingabout Mr. Pratt, sir?"
"What's that?"
"Ah, poor gentleman. 'Tis feared he've gone a-lost, or been swalleredby lions, or summat. 'Tis the end of many a poor traveller."
"Why do they fear that? Is there any news?"
"No; that's where 'tis; there be no news at all. 'Tis five weeks sincehe went off, not a soul knowing, as his way is; and Susan Barter up atpost office was saying only yesterday that there's not been a singleline from him to any o' they people at the house. 'Tis never beenknowed afore. As a rule there's a letter from Paris, or Marseilles, orBrindisi--ay, from places farther away; but this time not a line. He'llbe missed in the parish, sir, if so be he've gone aloft, like poor TomBowling."
Rogers proceeded to relate anecdotes of his landlord--instances of hispeppery outbursts and splenetic quarrels with his county neighbours, butmore of kindly deeds and unobtrusive generosity among his poorertenants.
"And your friend be his nephew, to be sure!" he added. "Well, don'tworrit the poor young gent yet awhile. No news is good news; maybethere'll be word of him one of these days. Susan Barter is sure to tellus."
Presently Pratt returned, laden with sundry parcels. The boys tookleave of Rogers, and by half-past twelve were back in camp. Armstronghad nothing to report. He declined at first to make one of thetea-party, but when the spin of a coin elected him against Pratt, heyielded to Warrender's argument that it would appear discourteous ifonly one of them accepted the invitation. Promptly at half-past fourthe two, wearing grey flannels for the occasion, entered the grounds ofMr. Crawshay's house, and were met on the drive by the owner himself.
"Glad to see you, my lads," he said, heartily. "You've something to tellme? I guessed it. Now, not a word before the ladies. I haven't toldthem anything of your troubles; best not to disturb them, you know.We'll have a talk in private, after tea."
The consequence was that presently Armstrong found himself left in thecompany of Mrs. Crawshay and her daughter, while Warrender was taken byMr. Crawshay to his study.
It had been decided that nothing should be said to the old gentlemanabout the visit to the Red House, the mysterious doings of Rush at sea,or the strange light Pratt had seen among the trees. Determined as thelads were to probe the mystery to the bottom, they felt that theirpurpose might be defeated by any premature activity on the part of thecounty magistrate. Accordingly, when Mr. Crawshay and Warrender wereseated in deep armchairs facing each other, and the former said, "Now,my lad, what is the latest news?" Warrender simply related the incidentof the midnight visit to the camp, concluding--
"And so, sir, we have decided to accept your offer of a camping-place onyour land, not merely to escape these annoyances--we should rather liketo hold our ground in regard to them--but because we think we shouldstand a better chance of discovering what really is going on."
"Ah, what does that mean? There's more in it than appears?"
"If you don't mind, sir, I won't tell you details now; but we have foundout one or two facts that have given rise to certain suspicions. Byremoving from the island we feel that we shall be better able to putthem to the test, and when our information is complete we will lay itbefore you."
"Well, I won't press you. Many a rogue has escaped justice because thecase against him has been badly prepared. Tell me all in your own time.Now as to your camp. There's a little natural dock in my bank of theriver. I'll put on my gardener and odd man to make a small clearing foryou. It's too late to-day; the men knock off at five--eight hours' day,you know. But you can bring your boat up the river, and put up for thenight with me."
"Thank you, sir; but we have a little errand at the signal stationbefore we go back--it might be rather late before we could geteverything packed up. I think we had better wait till the morning."
"Very well. You may have fresh light on the matter then. I shallexpect all three to lunch to-morr
ow. On my land you won't need to guardyour camp."
Taking leave a little later, the boys walked across the cliffs to thesignal station. On inquiry from the man in charge they learnt that thesteamer seen late on the previous evening was the _Katarina_, fromHelsingfors for New York.
"Did you notice a small boat pull out to her?" asked Armstrong.
"Rush's boat," replied the man. "It didn't pull out to her; 'twas outbefore she came in sight. Rush has some lobster pots out there. He's awell-known character in these parts."
They thanked their informant, and retraced their steps.
"She was a Russian boat," remarked Armstrong. "No secret about her nameor course. All the same--a Russian newspaper, a Russian secretary at theRed House, Russian petrol cans, a Russian steamer. Queer coincidences,at the least."
It was nearly eight o'clock when they regained the camp. Pratt washumming "I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls" to the accompaniment ofhis banjo.
"And how is the fair lady of the punctured tyre?" he asked. "Did shedeplore my absence?"
"She did say something about 'that amusing Mr. Pratt,'" Armstrongreplied. "I like her mother."
"We're all going up to lunch to-morrow," said Warrender, and explainedthe arrangements made.
"Then, as it's our last night on this island of spooks, I vote thatArmstrong and I go to the ruins and track that weird sound," said Pratt."The wind is high; we'll have time before dark."
Armstrong and he set off. The breeze was blowing in the same direction,and almost as strongly, as on the night before, but no moaning met theirears. Arriving at the cottage, they heard the characteristic whistleand hiss of wind playing about the eaves, but not the tuneful, mellownote that had reminded Pratt of an organ pipe. They searched around thebase of the walls for a recently fallen chimney-pot. There was none.
"Extraordinary!" said Pratt. "No wonder the rustics are jumpy. Ofcourse, there must be some simple explanation--some slight change ofdirection in the wind, I expect. If you've ever tried to play the pennywhistle you'll know that you can't always get a note, when you're abeginner. We've had our walk for nothing."
They were half-way back to the camp; dusk was just merging intodarkness, when the organ-note, riding, as it were, upon the rustle ofthe leaves, struck upon their ears.
"By George!" exclaimed Pratt. "One would think the spook was justwaiting for the dark. Come back. This is an acoustical phenomenon worthwriting about to some scientific rag."
They hurried back to the ruins, and sprang up the staircase. Pratttracked the sound, as before, to the partially unroofed room on the westside. Armstrong tried to climb up the jagged brickwork of the outerwall, but found the footing too insecure to persevere. Baffled, theystood for a while listening.
"It's no good," said Armstrong at last. "It's a job for daylight.Besides, it's of no importance; we've got more interesting mysteries tofathom."
"True, old matter-of-fact. You haven't a disinterested passion forscience. Well, I'll show you where I saw the light from last night."
They went into the other room, and looked across the river into thedarkness, faintly patterned by the nearer trees. Suddenly, high up, aglow appeared, shone for a second, disappeared, recurred. They watchedin silence. Presently Armstrong spoke.
"They're certainly signals. Keep your eye on them; count them."
There was a period of complete darkness; it seemed that the signallinghad ceased. Then the glow peered over the tree-tops again; it wasrepeated at regular intervals, at first short, then longer, then shortagain.
"It's like Morse," said Armstrong. "Did you count?"
"Nine times."
"In groups of three?"
"Four, three, and two, I thought."
"So did I. Well, if it's Morse, that spells VGI. What on earth doesthat mean?"
"Goodness knows. It's stopped. Wonder if it'll start again?"
A minute or two passed. Again the glow appeared, at intervals asbefore. Again they counted its appearances.
"Nine times. Three groups of three--longs and shorts. I make thatROD."
"Well, that's a word, at any rate; and the chef's name, by gum! Butwhat about VGI?"
"Perhaps I was mistaken. We'll wait for the next."
But though they remained some ten minutes at the window the glowappeared no more.
"A dashed fruitless expedition!" exclaimed Pratt, as they descended thestairs. "They used to divide science into sound, light, and heat.We're flummoxed by sound and light; it only wants heat to biff usaltogether."
Before many hours had passed they had reason to remember that almostprophetic utterance of Pratt's. It was his turn again to take themiddle watch, and at eleven-forty Armstrong wakened him.
"Hang you, Jack!" he cried. "I was dreaming I was blowing fire-balloonsout of an organ pipe, and I wanted to see the end of it. All serene?"
"Not a mouse stirring."
"Well, the air doesn't bite shrewdly. I cap your quotation, you see.It's a warm sou'wester. Can you hear that sound?"
"Just faintly. I say, I believe I understand that signal. I've beenthinking it over. I've had no particular practice in reading signals;perhaps the fellow signalling is a novice, too. In that case one orother of us might easily make a mistake. It's clear he made threeletters each time; I fancy they weren't either VGI or ROD."
"What then?"
"S.O.S."
"What-ho! The signal of distress at sea. But, I say, this is on land,old man."
"Yes; but I take it that it's a signal for help that any one knowingMorse might make."
"But who wants help? In my uncle's grounds? Wait a jiff. It was in thedirection of the house. I have it! What a pudding-head I am! Ofcourse, Rod's wife. You remember she tried to signal to you and Phil.She's in trouble. She's being ill-treated, or something. She's callingfor help. We're to be knights-errant--Perseus rescuing Andromeda----"
"Oh, shut up! Is it likely that an innkeeper's sister would knowMorse?"
"Mark my words, I'm right. A woman knows everything she wants to. Turnin, old chap. I wanted something to keep me awake, and I'll cogitate aplan for rescuing Molly Andromeda from the jaws of the Minotaur."
Pratt, however, found that cogitation was an ineffectual preventiveagainst drowsiness. Three disturbed nights in succession was anexperience unknown to him heretofore. He paced about for a little, satdown and lit a cigarette, dozed over it, started up and walked again.Once more he sat down, ruminated, nodded--and presently awoke, sniffing.What was that smell of burning? He looked on the ground, where thehalf-smoked cigarette lay. It was dead. He got up. The smell was inthe air. He took a few steps, looking around. His eye caught a flickerof flame to windward--two, three flickers some yards apart. For amoment his drowsy intelligence failed to respond to his senses; for amoment only. Then he shouted--
"Hi, you fellows! Fire! Fire!"
Already the flickers had been whipped by the wind into a wall of flame,advancing with a hiss and low roar from the thicket across the littleclearing. The heat of the last few days had dried the grass, which,though much trampled around the tent, was still long. The fire sweptover it like a ruddy tide. Smoke surged across the open space; twigsand leaves crackled in the surrounding thicket. When Armstrong andWarrender, awakened by the shouts, the reck, the roar and crackle,tumbled out in their pyjamas, they choked and spluttered and fell backbefore the intolerable heat and smother.
It was only too clear that the camp was doomed. There was not time tolower the tent. They rescued what they could. Armstrong dashed intothe tent, and returned dragging the three Gladstones that held theirclothes. Pratt caught up a petrol can and his banjo; Warrender securedhis razor-case and sponge-bag. Driven by the remorseless flames, theyretreated hurriedly towards the river, working round to the right untilthey arrived at a spot on the bank that lay out of the course of thewind. There they stood, coughing, watching the scene, fascinated.Springing from the south-west, the fire raced across t
he island, like agiant cutting with blazing scythe a path through the tough undergrowth.There was nothing to stay its advance. The low flames danced beneath thetrees, red goblins in a dust of smoke, twigs and branches crackling, thesappy wood adding rather to the smother than to the blaze.
"Sound, light, and heat!" murmured Pratt. "What a magnificentspectacle!"
"We've paid pretty dearly for our tickets!" said Armstrong, morosely.
"And some one shall pay pretty dearly before I've done with them!" criedWarrender. "We're homeless. We'd better run up to the Ferry Inn, andget Rogers to bed us."
"We'll be the talk of the village for a hundred years," said Pratt."We'll pass into legend; future ages will tell of the three magicianswho exorcised the spooks of No Man's Island with fire."
"Come and help shove off the boat," said Warrender. "We've still gotthat, thank goodness!"
The fire had burnt itself out at the north-east of the island by thetime the boat passed. At the ferry was assembled a crowd of thenatives. Rogers was in the act of setting off in Fisherman Drew's boat,along with Blevins, Hardstone, the village constable, and one or twomore.
"Praise be!" exclaimed the innkeeper, as the motor-boat ran alongsidethe stage. "I was afeared as you young gentlemen might be cinders."
"We're only smoked at present, dry-cured," said Pratt. "Saved ourbacon, you see."
"I want to know summat about this," said the constable. "I'll have tomake a report. If so be you set fire to that there island, with theterrible destruction of growing trees, I won't say but 'twill be broughtin arson, and that's five years' penal. Which one of you was it chuckeddown the match?"
"My dear good man," said Pratt, blandly, "we're only too anxious to giveevery assistance to the officer of the law; but, as you see, we're in agreat state of nervous agitation. D'you think Shadrach, Meshach, andAbednego were in a condition to answer questions after their experienceof the fiery furnace? Abed we go, if Mr. Rogers will oblige us. Comeup in the morning, constable; you're all losing your beauty sleep. Inthe morning we'll swear affidavits, or whatever it is you want. To-nightwe're too tired even to swear. Good-night."