The Motor Girls on the Coast: or, The Waif From the Sea

CHAPTER XIV
SETTLING DOWN

When Cora, leading by the hand dripping Dick Haley, met his father, the keeper of the light, she exclaimed impulsively:

“I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before!”

It was rather a strange greeting under the circumstances, considering that Cora had just helped little Dick from the water. But the lighthouse keeper did not seem to mind it.

“I’m sure I can’t remember it, miss,” he made answer, “and I’m counted on as having a pretty good memory. However, the loss is all mine, I do assure you. Now what mischief has my fat boy been getting into?”

“It was not his fault, I’m sure,” spoke Eline.

“Indeed not,” echoed Cora. “Your daughter’s boat upset and we went out to help her. There she is!”

Cora pointed to a dripping figure, in a red bathing suit climbing up on a little pier that led to the beacon. Following the disclosure made to Cora, as Rosalie swam beside the boat, they had reached the shore. Mr. Haley had been off getting some supplies for the lighthouse and so had not witnessed the accident. The first intimation he had of it was when he saw his dripping son being led up by Cora and Eline.

“Upset; eh?” voiced the keeper of the light. “Well, it has happened before, and it’ll happen again. I’m glad it was no worse, and I’m very much obliged to you, miss. But I don’t ever remember seeing you before–either of you,” and he glanced at Eline.

“Oh, I’m sure you never saw me!” she laughed “I’m from Chicago.”

“Chicago!” he cried, quickly. “Why, I’m from there originally. I used to be a pilot on the lakes. But that’s years ago. Me and my sister came from there. But Margaret–well, what’s the use of talking of it?” and the worried frown on his face deepened, as he went down to meet his daughter, telling Dick to go up in the living quarters of the light to get on dry clothes.

Cora was sure she had seen the light keeper before, but, puzzle her brain over the matter as she might, she could not recall where it was. And the name Margaret seemed to be impressed on her memory, too. It was quite annoying not to be able to recall matters when you wanted to, she thought.

“But I’ll just think no more about it,” mused Cora. “Perhaps it will come to me when I least expect it.”

The lighthouse maid and her father met, and in a few words she told of the accident. He sent a man to tow in the overturned boat.

“But you are wet, too!” he exclaimed to Cora, as he noted her damp skirts and soaked shoes.

“Oh, that’s nothing!” said she. “I pushed off the boat. I don’t know whose it is, by the way.”

“It belongs to Hank Belton,” said the keeper. “He won’t mind you using it. Do you live around here?”

Cora told how they were coming to the bungalows for the summer.

“Ah, then I’ll see you again, miss,” spoke Mr. Haley. “I can’t properly thank you now–I’m that flustered. This has upset me a little, though usually I don’t worry about the children and the water, for they look after themselves. But I’m fair bothered about other matters.”

“I told her, Daddy,” broke in Rosalie. “About Aunt Margaret, you know.”

“Did you? Well, I dare say it was all right. I can’t see why she did it? I can’t see! Going off that way, without notice, and those people to make such unkind insinuations. I can’t understand it!”

He walked up and down in front of the little dock. Rosalie looked as though she would enjoy another plunge in the bay. Cora glanced over to where her friends awaited her in a group on the beach. Eline was looking at dripping Dick going up to get on dry garments.

“But there!” exclaimed Mr. Haley, “I mustn’t bother you with my troubles. I dare say you have enough of your own. But do come over and see us; won’t you?”

“Yes, do!” urged Rosalie.

“We will,” said Cora. “But now I must get back to my friends.”

“You had best take the boat and row over,” said the light keeper. “It’s shorter that way. You can leave her just where you found her. Hank won’t mind.”

“I’ll row you over,” offered Rosalie.

“No, indeed, thank you, we can do it,” spoke Cora. “We are anxious to get settled in our bungalows, so I think we had better go now. We will see you again,” and with a smile and a nod, she and Eline went down to the boat, which had been left at the lighthouse float, and got in. A little later they were with their friends.

“Well, Cora, you certainly did something that time!” remarked Jack.

“And you didn’t lose any time,” added Ed.

“Weren’t you frightened?” Belle wanted to know.

“Not a bit–not even I,” answered Eline, “and I don’t know much about the water.”

“Who was she? What happened? How did you get the boy out? Who keeps the light? Tell us all about it!”

Cora held up her hands to ward off the avalanche of questions, and told as much as was necessary. She did not mention having spoken about thinking she had met the keeper of the light before, nor about the insistence of the name Margaret. Nor did it enter into Eline’s brief added description of the events of that strenuously-filled half-hour.

“Well, here comes Aunt Susan,” remarked Mrs. Fordam. “I think she couldn’t wait any longer to learn all about what happened, and I don’t blame her. I’ll soon turn you girls over to her charge.”

“Oh, but you’ll stay with us to-night!” exclaimed Cora.

“Yes, and I’ll go back home in the morning on the train. Really I have enjoyed this trip very much, and I would like to stay longer, but I can’t. Perhaps I may come down during the summer to see you.”

“Please do,” invited Cora.

Aunt Susan proved worthy of her name, a home-like lady, with an easy manner, that made one feel comfortable at once. She simply “oozed” good things to eat, as Jack said, and Jack ought to know. Some of the young people she knew, having met them at Cora’s house. The others were presented to her.

“Well, the bungalows are all ready for you,” she went on, after explanations had been made. “I expect you’re tired and hungry and – ”

“Wet,” interrupted Jack, with a look at Cora. “But then you can’t make rescues from the briny deep without getting at least damp.”

“I should like to change,” spoke Cora, glancing at her soaked shoes.

“Then come on,” said Aunt Susan. “I guess you boys know where your quarters are,” she added. “There is plenty to eat – ”

“Hurray!” cried Jack, swinging his hat, and clapping Walter on the shoulder.

“Perhaps you’ll all have supper together,” suggested Mrs. Chester.

“If the girls let us,” added Ed.

“Oh, I guess we will,” assented Cora. “That is, if you get my car up. I didn’t think, when I ran it down, that the sand was so deep.”

“We’ll look after it–don’t worry, Sis,” said Jack.

While the girls and the two ladies went on to the larger bungalow, the boys managed, not without some work, to get Cora’s auto up to the road again. Then it was run along, with the others, to the big bungalow, where there was a shed that would serve as shelter for the machines.

The boys carried in the girls’ trunks and suit cases, and transported their own to their quarters. Then began a general “primping” time, as the supper hour approached.

“Oh, girls, isn’t this just delightful?” exclaimed Cora, as she and the others entered what was to be their home for the summer.

“That window seat is a dear!” declared Belle, as she proceeded to “drape” herself in it.

“And see the porch hammocks,” called Bess, “slumping” into one.

“What a fine view of the bay we can get from here,” added Eline, as she stood in the bow window, a most graceful figure. Cora, in spite of her damp shoes, had made a hurried trip through the bungalow to arrange, tentatively at least, as hostess, the different sleeping apartments.

“Oh, it’s just the dearest place!” exclaimed Eline. “I know we will simply love it here.”

“Now just put off your things, get comfortable, wash and comb if you like, and then the boys will be over to supper,” said Mrs. Chester, when the girls had made a tour of the place.

“Gracious! Here they come now!” cried Belle, as she saw Jack and his friends tramping over the space that separated the two bungalows.

The girls fled precipitately, for they had begun to lay aside their collars and loosen their hair. Then the two ladies took charge of matters, in the kitchen at least. The boys were bidden to remain out on the piazzas until invited in, and they sprawled in various attitudes in chairs or hammocks.

Then the girls came down; there was noticed throughout the bungalow various savory odors, at which the boys grinned in delight. There was the clatter of plates, and the jingle of silver–more expansive smiles. There were looks of pleased anticipation. Then came the clanging of a bell.

“Supper!” announced Mrs. Chester, appearing in the door wearing a huge apron.

“That’s us!” cried Jack.

“Oh, I’ve just thought of it!” exclaimed Cora in a low voice to Eline, as she walked beside her to the dining room.

“Thought of what?”

“The name ‘Margaret!’”

CHAPTER XV
LAUNCHING THE “PET”

“Pass the olives again, please!”

“Aren’t the lobsters delicious?”

“Are you referring to us?” Ed bristled up, and looked rather aggressively at Belle.

“If the net fits – ” she murmured.

“Net being the sea-change from shoe,” spoke Jack.

“Please pass the olives,” came again from Bess, waiting patiently. “I’ve only had – ”

“A dozen!” interrupted Ed.

“I have not!”

“Children!” rebuked Cora.

They were all at the supper table–I prefer, since we are now at sea, which makes so many equal–to call the late meal supper, in preference to dinner. No fisherman ever eats a “dinner” except at noon, and it was now well on to six o’clock. And they were making merry, were the motor maids and boys.

Mrs. Chester had made bountiful provision for the party and they were now enjoying it thoroughly. Over in the bungalow of the boys were ample supplies for days to come, though such as would not keep had been laid in sparingly.

“You girls certainly look nice enough to – ”

“Eat, were you going to say?” asked Eline, who was particularly “fetching,” to quote Norton, whereupon Jack wanted to know what it was she was expected to “fetch.”

“Well, at least nibble at,” remarked Walter. “Some of you don’t look as though you would stand more than a nibble,” and he looked particularly at Bess.

“Oh, but there is so much to do,” sighed Cora, as she thought of the arrangements for the night. “We really must hurry through supper and straighten things out. Then we can rest to-morrow.”

“It doesn’t take you long to straighten out,” said Ed, with a jovial smile. “One minute you’re rescuing fat boys from the salty ocean, and the next you look as charming as–er–as – ”

“As a mermaid,” finished Walter.

“How do you do it?” Norton wanted to know. “This is the first long motor trip I’ve taken, and I’m wearing the collar of your brother, with the necktie of Ed. I can’t seem to find a thing of my own.”

“It is all done by system,” said Cora.

“Hear! Hear!” cried Jack, English fashion. “Sis will kindly elucidate the system.”

“Finish your supper!” ordered Cora. “We want you boys to help carry around some of our trunks. We’re going to place them differently.”

“More work,” groaned Ed.

But the meal was finally over and the boys put the trunks in the rooms of the various girls. Mrs. Chester had engaged the wife of one of the Cove fishermen to come in to help with the house-work, so the two chaperones could leave the dishes to her while they helped the girls settle their apartments. The bungalow was of ample size, and they were sure to be comfortable.

The boys did some “straightening-out,” but it was more honored in the breach than in the observance. When they wanted a thing they “pawed” over their suit cases until they found it, letting the other articles settle where they might.

They were all out on the porch, talking and laughing over the events of the day, Cora being called upon to recount her experiences in making the rescue.

“Cora,” spoke Eline softly, when some of the motor boys and girls had voted for a stroll down to the beach, “what was it you meant when you said you recalled the name Margaret?”

“Oh, yes. I’m glad you spoke of that. Do you remember the name of the woman I found in the garage the night of the fire?”

“Mrs.–Mrs. – ” Eline paused.

“Mrs. Margaret Raymond,” supplied Cora.

“Yes, that was it. What of her?”

“Well, the light keeper has a sister who is missing. Her name is Margaret, too. She is the aunt of the girl in the red bathing suit.”

“Does anything follow from that?”

“Suppose I told you that as soon as I saw Mr. Haley, the keeper of the light, I was sure I had seen his face before?”

“Ah!” Eline was quick to grasp at a suggestion.

“Of course I have never seen him before,” went on Cora. “But his sister must bear some resemblance to him; don’t you think, Eline?”

“I should say so–yes.”

“Then take the name Margaret–the fact that his sister is named that–also that the strange woman who ran away from the office, and whom I found in our garage, was named the same–the fact that Mr. Haley’s sister is strangely missing, and under some sort of a cloud–which would also cover Mrs. Raymond–and you see the coincidences; don’t you?”

“Indeed I do!” declared Eline. “Oh, Cora, if it should turn out that they are the same person!”

“It would be remarkable. But even if it were so we could not help him. We could give him no clue as to his sister’s whereabouts now.”

“Well, we must find out what his sister’s last name is. He has invited us over there, and I think I can speak to him on the subject. It is worth trying, anyhow. Suppose we go and join the others.”

“Shall you tell them?” asked Eline.

“Not yet.”

They found the rest of the party down on the shore of the cove. The moon was up and the picture presented was an attractive one. Two points, jutting out into the ocean, came near enough together to make a sort of strait that led into the bay.

Opening out of the big bay was a smaller cove–called Sandy–from the fine extent of bathing beach it afforded. It was just back of this beach that several cottages had been put up, also the two bungalows occupied by our friends.

The point on which the lighthouse was built was somewhat in the shape of a shoe, and on the farthermost extremity were black rocks, extending, as I have said, out in a dangerous reef from which the flashing light warned vessels. The point was built up with fishermen’s cottages, or modest houses, and around the bay was located the village of Sandy Point, a small settlement, but one that was gradually growing as the summer colonists found out its beauty.

“I hope the Petrel is here, all right,” remarked Jack, when they had talked of many other matters.

“We’ll have to see the first thing in the morning,” declared Ed.

“Yes, I am anxious to get her afloat,” spoke Cora. “The water is lovely around here.”

“Well, you ought to know,” came from Walter, “you were out on it to-day.”

“We’ll have some fun bathing,” said Norton. “You say that lighthouse girl has won swimming prizes, Cora?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we can get up some races,” came from Bess. “Do you swim, Eline?”

“Some. That’s what everyone says, I believe.”

They talked and strolled, and strolled and talked, until the lateness of the hour sent them to their bungalows.

There was some little excitement about getting settled for the night, for it developed that one of the trunks containing some garments of the girls had not arrived. But they “doubled up,” and were fairly comfortable. As for the boys, the sounds of merriment came from their quarters even at a late hour.

“I’m glad I don’t have to chaperone them,” remarked Aunt Susan.

Morning came, as it generally does. Jack and his chums got their own breakfast–in a more or less haphazard fashion–and then set off to the railroad depot to see about the motor boat.

It was safe in the freight office, and was eagerly inspected by the boys. For, while Cora and her motor girl chums really owned the dainty little craft, the young men felt that they had almost a proprietary interest in it.

“How are we going to get it over to the Cove?” asked Ed.

“On a truck, of course,” replied Jack. “Then we’ll knock off the cradle – ”

“Rocked in the cradle of the deep!” burst out Walter.

“Where’s your permit to sing?” demanded Jack. “Stop it. Your swan song will come in handy when we launch the Pet.”

“Well, I guess this part of the work is strictly up to us,” remarked Norton, as he surveyed the boat. “And the sooner we get her into the water the sooner we can have a ride.”

“Right–oh!” exclaimed Jack. “I’ll ask the freight agent about a truck.”

That official told the boys where they could hire one, a certain man at the Cove making a specialty of moving boats.

A little later the boys were perched on a big wagon, containing the boat, and moving toward a boat-repair dock whence most of the launchings were made.

The girls had word of the little ceremony that was to occur, and they gathered at the place while the boys, with the help of one or two men, arranged to slide the un-cradled boat into the water.

All went well until toward the end. Then the boat seemed to stick on the rollers.

“Shove her hard!” cried Jack. “You fellows aren’t putting half enough beef into your shoves.”

“All together now, boys!” cried Walter. “Here she goes!”

Just how it happened no one knew, but the Pet suddenly shot down the ways, sliding over the rollers. Jack, who had hold of her amidships, kept his grip, and, as if not wanting to part company from the youth, or as if objecting to taking the plunge alone, the motor boat shot into deep water, carrying Jack with her. He clung to the gunwhale and shouted–not in alarm, for he could swim, but in startled surprise.

“Hold her, Jack, hold her!” shouted Walter. “Or she’ll smash into that other boat,” for the Pet, under the momentum of the slide, was going stern foremost straight toward an anchored sloop.

CHAPTER XVI
SUSPICIONS STRENGTHENED

The girls screamed. The boys looked on in startled amazement. The men who had been hired to help launch the boat stood with their hands hanging at their sides, as if unable to do anything. Finally Walter galvanized himself into action long enough to exclaim:

“We should have had a rope fast to her.”

“That you had, my lad!” agreed a grizzled old fisherman. “A rope and a kedge anchor on shore. Howsomever – ”

“Can’t something be done?” demanded Cora, clasping her hands impulsively. “It must be! Our boat!”

The spectacle of the fine craft, in which so many of the hopes and expectations of the young people centered, about to be damaged, seemed to send a chill of apprehension to the hearts of the girls–more so than in the case of the boys. And it certainly looked as though a collision was unavoidable.

“And Jack!” cried Belle. “He’ll be smashed!”

“Not on that end,” remarked Ed, grimly. “If he sticks there he won’t be hurt. He’s as far away from the smashing-point as he can get.”

This was true, for Jack was now clinging to the stem of the boat, having edged his way along from amidships. He did not seem worried, and in fact was preparing to do the only thing possible to prevent a collision.

While the boys–Ed, Walter and Norton–were racing about, looking for an available boat to launch, regardless of the fact that it would be too late for all practical purposes, and while the fishermen helpers were disputing as to whose fault it was that a retaining rope had not been provided, Jack was carrying out his plan of action.

This was nothing more or less than to turn himself into a rudder. As a usual thing the rudder is on the stern of the boat–necessarily so–but in this case the stern of the Pet was the bow, as far as motion was concerned, and Jack, clinging to the stem, was on the stern, so to speak. So, vigorously churning with his feet, as a swimmer might tread water, he threw himself to one side, as a rudder might have been turned.

The effect was immediate. The Pet veered to one side, and the startled owner of the sloop, toward which the motor boat was plunging, had small use for the hook he had caught up in his excitement.

In another moment the Pet shot alongside the other craft, sliding rather violently along the rub-streak, and careening the sloop and herself as well. But no real harm was done save the removal of considerable paint and varnish. Jack had succeeded in his design.

“Well, what were you trying to do?” demanded the owner of the sloop, rather angrily.

“Trying to save your boat from harm,” answered Jack quickly. “Throw me a line, will you? and I’ll come aboard. I don’t want to get in the motor boat, all wet as I am.”

“Sure thing!” the man exclaimed. “That was a neat trick you worked. Mighty clever!”

He flung Jack a rope’s end, the two boats now having drifted apart. Jack pulled himself to the deck of the sloop, letting go his hold on the Pet, but Walter and Ed were now coming out to get her in a small boat. Soon she was tied safely at the float, and Jack returned to shore.

“How–how did it all happen?” asked Eline.

“Well,” said Jack, rather pantingly, for his breath was somewhat spent, “I had an idea that I gave a fairly good imitation, a la the moving picture performance, of how it happened. But if you’d prefer to have me play a return engagement, I might – ”

“Don’t you dare!” cried Cora, as Jack made a motion as though to plunge into the water again. “Was that man very mad, Jack?”

“Oh, only so-so. Say, I am some wet!”

“Yes, you’d better go up to the bung, and change,” suggested Ed–“bung,” I may explain, being a short cut for bungalow.

“Guess I’d better,” agreed the damp one. “Say, but she’s leaking some!” and he looked into the cockpit of the motor craft.

“It will stop when the seams swell,” was Walter’s opinion. “Come on, fellows, we’ll look over the engine.”

“Yes, and please get some gasoline,” suggested Cora. “We may be able to go for a spin this afternoon. Come on, girls. Now that the Pet is in her element we’ll take a stroll around, and look at–well, at whatever there is to look at,” she concluded.

“Let’s go over to the lighthouse,” suggested Belle.

“Not now!” exclaimed Cora, quickly. “We’ll go some other time. Come on,” and leaving the boys to go over the intricacies of the motor boat, the girls strolled along the sand.

Jack hurried on the bungalow.

“Why didn’t you want to go to the lighthouse?” asked Eline of Cora, as they walked on, arm in arm. “I think they are so romantic. And perhaps that mermaid’s father might show us through it in return for our rescue.”

“Doubtless he would, and probably he will–later,” said Cora. “But, Eline, I want to do some thinking first.”

“About what?”

“About what that mermaid, as you call her, told me of her father’s worries. She – ”

“Here she comes now,” interrupted Belle, catching part of what Cora and Eline were saying. Walking along the strand, with the chubby little boy who had been pulled from the water, was Rosalie.

“How do you do?” she called pleasantly to Cora. “Are you all settled? I think it must be lovely to live as you girls do, going about as you please.”

“And I think it must be so romantic to live in a lighthouse,” interposed Belle. “Do you ever tend the light?”

“Once in a while, when father is busy–that is, early in the evening. Father and the assistant, Harry Small, stand the night watches.”

“Do you ever have storms here?” asked Bess.

“Oh, often, yes; and bad ones too.”

“And are ships wrecked?” Eline queried.

“Occasionally.”

“Did your light ever save any?” asked Cora.

“Oh, yes, it must have, for the light can be seen for a long distance. Of course, we can’t say how many vessels have come in too close to the black rocks, and have veered off. But I know once or twice father has seen the lights too close in, and then, as the sailors saw the lantern flash, they would steer out. So you see they were warned in time.”

“That’s splendid!” cried Bess. “Think of saving a whole shipload of people!” and her eyes sparkled.

“How is your father?” asked Cora in a low voice, as she got a chance to walk with Rosalie, the other three girls going on ahead.

“Oh, he is still worried–if that is what you mean,” was the answer.

“That is what I do mean, my dear,” Cora went on. “I wonder if you would mind describing your aunt to us.”

“You mean the one who–disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

It was a challenge, and Rosalie looked curiously at Cora.

“Well, my dear, I fancy–no, I will say nothing until I learn more. But don’t tell me about her unless you choose.”

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t mind. Perhaps you would like to speak to father?”

“Possibly–a little later. But was your aunt a delicate woman, with iron gray hair, and rather a nervous manner?”

“Yes, that’s Aunt Margaret! But why do you ask?”

“I will tell you later, my dear. Please don’t say anything about it until I see your father. Do you suppose he would show us through the light?”

“Of course! I’ll ask him; and that will give you the chance you want!”

“Fine!” exclaimed Cora. “I’m afraid you will think this is rather a conspiracy,” she went on, “but I have my reasons. It may amount to nothing, but I will not be satisfied until I have proved or disproved something I have suspected since I came here.”