Chapter XI
FROM OUT THE SEA
Bill stared down at Dorothy sleeping the sleep of exhaustion on thecold, wet sand. Her clothes, like his, were soaked with sea water andwith rain. He realized that something must be done at once, or theywould both be in for pneumonia. So stripping off his rubber coat andcovering the unconscious girl, he started for the dunes.
Day was breaking as he left the shingle and commenced to plow throughthe loose sand. The storm was abating somewhat. Although the wind stillblew half a gale, the sleet had turned to a fine, cold rain which badefair to stop altogether once the sun was fully up. By the time BillBolton worked his painfully slow way to the top of the dunes it waslight enough to see for a considerable distance.
At first glance the prospect was anything but alluring. His point ofvantage was in the approximate center of an island of sand and shingle,a mile long, perhaps, by half a mile wide. Inlets from the white-cappedAtlantic effectually cut off escape at either end of the outer beach onwhich a fearsome surf was pounding. Along the inner shore of thisdesolate, wind-swept islet a complicated network of channels intertwinedabout still other islands as far as the eye would reach. Nor could Billmake out any sign of human habitation.
"Water, water, everywhere, and not a gol-darned drop to drink," hemisquoted thoughtfully and wondered if by chewing the eel grass he wouldbe able to get rid of the parched feeling of his mouth and throat.
He pulled a broad blade and chewed it meditatively. Then spat it out indisgust. The grass was as salty as the sea. It made him thirstier thanever. Turning seaward he swept the pale horizon with a despondent gaze.
Not a sign of a craft of any description could be seen. Wait a minute,though. Bill caught his breath. What was that--bobbing in the chop ofthe waves, just outside the bar of the eastern inlet? Could it be aboat? In this gray light a proper focus was difficult. It was a boat,open; a lifeboat, by the look of it. Waiting no longer for speculation,he hurried down the low hill toward the sea.
Once he struck hard sand, Bill raced into the teeth of the wind, withthe boom of the surf on his right, and dire necessity lending wings tohis tired feet. Forgotten were his thirst, the clammy cold of his wetclothes and his weariness. Every ounce of strength, the entire power ofhis will centered in the effort to come close enough to the boat tosignal her assistance.
With his heart pumping like a steam engine, he passed Dorothy, who waslying exactly as he had left her. Then he got his second wind andrunning became less of a painful struggle. He could see the boat moreplainly now. Surely it was an open motor sailor. Could it be the onebelonging to Donovan and Charlie, he wondered. What irony!--to berescued by the smugglers--and to lose liberty and the diamonds after allthis storm and stress!
But the motor sailor was drifting--into the surf off the bar--without asoul aboard.
Coming to a halt at the inlet, he watched the tide pull the boat throughthe breakers on the bar to the smooth water. Off came his jacket andflinging it behind him on to the sand he waded into the water and swamfor the boat. He reached her at last and with difficulty pulled himselfaboard.
For a moment or two he rested on a thwart in a state of semi-collapse.As he had thought, it was the smugglers' boat. But there was no sign ofDonovan or Charlie. However, except for six inches or so of water thatsloshed about his feet, the motor sailor seemed to be in good condition.
When he felt better, he started the engine and ran her ashore on theisland. Then after inspecting the boat's lockers, he buried her anchorin the sand and trudged back along the beach to Dorothy.
She was still sleeping, tousled head pillowed on her right arm, and itwas some time before he could bring her back to consciousness.
"Let me alone," she moaned drowsily, "I'm too tired to get up thismorning, Lizzie. I don't want any breakfast--go away and let me sleep!"
Bill raised her to a sitting position. "Wake up--wake up! You aren't athome. And this isn't Lizzie--it's Bill--Bill Bolton! We're still on theisland."
Dorothy opened her eyes, and looked at him wonderingly.
"The island--" he reiterated. "We were wrecked--had to swim for it.Don't you remember?"
Suddenly she gained full control of her waking senses.
"I know. I know now, Bill. Guess I've been asleep. Ugh! I'm soaking.What did you wake me for? At least, I was comfortable!"
"Come to breakfast and dry clothes. You'll get pneumonia if you stayhere. Do you think you can walk? You're a pretty husky armful, but Iguess I can carry you to the boat if I must." He grinned at her.
Dorothy was stiff and weary but she fairly jumped to her feet.
"What boat? Where is it?"
Bill told her.
"But you said 'dry clothes and breakfast'--"
They were hurrying along the beach.
"That's right. She's got plenty of food aboard--and one of the lockersis packed with clothes. There are even dry towels, think of that! Thoseguys had her provisioned and equipped for a long trip."
"What's happened to them, do you think?"
"I can't make it out. The boat has shipped some water, but nothing to beworried about. The motor's O.K. and there's plenty of gas. They may havegot into the surf, thought she was going to founder, perhaps, and swamashore like we did."
"But they're not on the island?"
"No. If they made the beach, it was somewhere else along the coast."
"We should worry," said Dorothy. "If they don't want her, we do--and shecertainly looks good to me."
They walked down the shingle and Bill got aboard the boat.
"You wait on the beach," he directed. "It's pretty wet underfoot. I'llpass the things overside. I think the best plan is for you to go up inthe dunes and change there. Meanwhile, I'll start in with the handpumpand get rid of the water. I'll have her good and dry by the time you getback. Then you can rustle a meal while I put on dry things. Catch!"
Dorothy found herself possessed of a bundle knotted in a large bathtowel. Upon inspection it proved to contain dungaree trousers, a jumper,a dark blue sweater, woolen socks and a pair of rubber-soled shoes.
"They may be a trifle large," said Bill. "But at least they're dry andthe clothes seem to be clean."
"Nothing could be sweeter," was Dorothy's comment. "See you in tenminutes--so long!"
"O.K.," replied Bill and turned to the handpump.
Quarter of an hour later he was completing his labors with the aid of alarge sponge when he heard footsteps on the shingle and looked up to seea young fellow in blue dungarees and sweater coming toward the boat,carrying a bundle of clothes.
"Dorothy! Gee--what a change! For a minute I thought you were astranger."
"Somebody's younger brother, I suppose," she laughed. "These things aremiles too big for me--but they're darned comfortable and warm. You goahead and change your own clothes. I'll finish bailing."
Bill stepped overside and on to the sand, carrying his dry rig and atowel. Dorothy was spreading her sodden clothing on the sand.
"Bailing's over for today," he told her, "don't forget about breakfast,though. I could eat a raw whale."
"Don't worry, young feller," she retorted. "Your breakfast will be readybefore you are. Just let me get these things drying in the nice warm sunthat's coming up now, and you'll see!"
With a wave of his hand he disappeared over the brow of the sand hills,and Dorothy clambered aboard the beached motor sailor. Much to herdelight she found a small two-burner oil stove, already lighted,standing on a thwart. Nearby had been placed a coffee-pot and a largefrying pan. The lid of the food locker lay open, as did the onecontaining the water keg.
"Bright boy," she murmured approvingly. "You're a real help to mother!Now let's see what smugglers live on."
She had set a collapsible table that hinged to the side of the boat andwas busy at the stove when she heard Bill's halloo.
"Breakfast ready?" he called from the beach.
"Will be in a jiffy," she a
nswered without looking up. "How do you likeyour eggs?"
"Sunny side up, if it's all the same to you."
"O.K. Spread your wet clothes on the sand and come aboard."
She was serving his eggs on a hot plate when Bill's head appeared overthe side.
"My, but that coffee smells good," he cried, and swung himself aboard."How did you manage to cook all that food!"
"Come to the table, and see what we've got."
He sat down and inspected the various edibles, ticking them off on hisfingers.
"Coffee, condensed milk, bread and butter, the ham-what-am, fried eggs,marmalade and maple syrup! Say, Dorothy, those guys certainly livedhigh. Some meal, this!"
Dorothy turned about from the stove, smiling. "And here's what goes withthe maple syrup!"
"A stack of wheats!" He shouted as she uncovered the dish. "You're awonder, a magician, Dorothy. How in the world did you manage it?"
Dorothy laughed, pleased by his enthusiasm.
"Found a package of pancake flour in the locker. They're simple enoughto make. Now dig in before things get cold. Help yourself tobutter--it's rather soft, but this lugger doesn't seem to run to ice."
Bill set to work as she poured the coffee.
"Like it that way," he replied, his mouth full of ham and eggs, while heplastered his pancakes with butter. "Well, we've sure put it over onMessrs. Donovan and Charlie this trip, not to mention your friendPeters. Got their diamonds and their boat and their clothes. Now we'reeating their breakfast,--the sun is shining once more--and all is rightin the world."
"Where are those diamonds, by the way?" exclaimed Dorothy suddenly,having taken the edge off her ravenous appetite.
Bill laid down his knife and fork. For a moment he looked startled, thenburst into a great roar of laughter.
"We're a fine pair of Secret Service workers!" he cried derisively. "Butit's my fault. You were all in."
Dorothy's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me you left them on the beach!"
"Surest thing you know. I left them beside you on the sand and forgotall about the darn things when I spotted the motor sailor. Never thoughtof them again until this minute!"
Dorothy nodded sagely. "Which only goes to show that diamonds don'tcount for much when one is tired and wet and hungry, not to mentionbeing marooned on a desert island!"
"Ain't it the truth! Another cup of coffee, please. I'll fetch them whenwe've finished eating."
"After we've washed up?"
"O.K. with me."
Bill drank his third cup of coffee and leaned back with a sigh ofcontent.
"Well, the old appetite's satisfied at last," he admitted comfortably."And I don't mind telling you that was the best meal I ever ate."
"Thank you, kind sir. Though I think it is your appetite rather than thecook you should thank."
Bill shook his head. "When it comes to cooking, you're a real, bonafide, died-in-the-wool, A-1 Ace! How about it--shall we wash the dishesnow?"
"I can't eat any more, and if I don't get busy soon, I'll go to sleepagain."
"Pass the dishes and things overside to me. I'll sluice 'em off in thewater. We should worry. This will be our last meal on this boat. I'llbet a rubber nickel those smuggler-guys wouldn't have done this much ifthey'd got the Mary Jane."
"Poor Mary Jane," sighed Dorothy as they tidied up. "She was a staunchold thing. I wonder what Yancy will soak Dad for her?"
"Nothing. Uncle Sam pays for that boat. She went down on governmentservice, didn't she?"
"That's good news," smiled Dorothy. "Now, that's the last plate. Let'sgo along the beach. I'm getting worried about those boxes of diamonds.Do you think they'll be there, all right?"
"Sure to be. Unless somebody has landed on this island while we werebusy with the eats. Come along and we'll see."
Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane Page 11