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

“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.”

CHAPTER XVII

THE LIGHT KEEPER’S STORY

“Hurray! She’s going!”

It was Jack who cried this.

“‘She starts, she moves, she seems to feel – ’”

“As though we’d catch a wiggling eel!”

Thus Ed began the quotation, and thus Walter ended it. The boys had been working in the motor boat, and had only now, after several hours, succeeded in getting it to respond to their labors. The motor started with a sound that “meant business,” as Jack expressed it.

“Let’s go for a run,” suggested Norton.

“Better wait for the girls–it’s their boat,” returned Walter.

“And we’d better pump some of the water out of her,” added Jack. “She leaks like a sieve.”

“Pump her out, and by the time the girls are here she’ll be ready,” spoke Walter.

“It was that carbureter all the while,” declared Ed. “I knew it was!”

“I was sure it was in the secondary coil,” came from Jack.

“And you couldn’t make me believe but what it was one of the spark plugs,” was Norton’s contribution. “But it was the carbureter, all right.”

“All wrong, you mean,” half grumbled Walter, whose hands were covered with grease and gasoline. “Some one had opened the needle valve too far.”

“Well, let’s get busy with the pump,” Jack said. “It’s too nice to be hanging around the float.”

The Pet was soon in as good condition as hasty work could make her, and on the arrival of the girls the whole party went out for a spin, though they were a bit crowded. Cora was at the wheel, a position her right to which none disputed.

“I don’t know these waters around here,” she admitted, “but Rosalie said there was a good depth nearly all over the Cove, even at low tide.”

“Rosalie being the mermaid?” asked Norton. “I should like to meet her.”

“I have asked her over to the bungalow,” went on Cora. “But I warn you that she is a very sensible girl.”

“Meaning that I am not?” challenged Norton.

“Not a girl–certainly,” observed Jack.

“Not sensible!” exclaimed Norton.

“Don’t give them an opening, boy,” cautioned Ed. “You don’t know these girls as I do.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” was the contribution from Bess.

“Why don’t you talk?” asked Jack of Belle.

“She’s too interested in how deep the water is, and wondering if she will float as well as dripping Dick,” mocked Eline.

“I am not!” promptly answered Belle. “And just to show you that I’m not afraid I’m going to try to swim as soon as we go in bathing.”

“Which will be to-morrow,” said Cora.

They motored about the bay, winding in and out among anchored and moving craft. Cora was as adept at the wheel of the Pet as she was at that of the Whirlwind, and many admiring comments were made by other steersmen in the Cove, though Cora knew it not.

“She stood her land journey well,” remarked Bess, as she noted how well the engine was running.

“But you should have seen the trouble we had,” complained Walter. “We thought she’d never go!”

The day was lovely, and it was a temptation to stay out, but Cora was wise enough not to remain too long on the water. Already the effect of the hot sun was evident on the hands and faces of all, and the girls were secretly wishing for some talcum powder.

They went back to the float, arrangements having been made to dock the Petrel there. Then came a hasty meal and another spin.

They were getting matters down to a system in the bungalows now–at least the girls were. The boys lived haphazard, as they always did, and perhaps always would. Mrs. Chester–Aunt Susan–in the absence of Mrs. Fordam, who had returned home–assumed charge of Cora and her friends to the extent of seeing that meals were ready on time.

It was their third day at the coast, the time having been well occupied–every hour of it almost–and the girls were out alone in the Pet– the boys having gone fishing–when Cora observed a figure in a red bathing suit near the lighthouse float waving to them.

“Rosalie–the mermaid!” exclaimed Bess. “What can she want?”

“Perhaps her little brother is in the water again,” said Belle.

“No, she doesn’t seem excited enough for that,” spoke Eline.

“We’ll go see,” was Cora’s decision.

The Pet circled up to the float and came to a stop at its side, not a jar marring the landing.

“Well done!” said Rosalie to Cora. “There are not many girls who can run a motor boat like that.”

“I have had some practice,” was the modest reply.

“Father will be glad to see you,” went on the mermaid, with a smile. “He has just been polishing the light, and I know he’ll be glad to show you through.”

She glanced meaningly at Cora, who returned the look.

“Welcome, ladies!” greeted Mr. Haley. “I’m real glad to see you. Visitors are always welcome. Are you good climbers?”

“Why?” asked Eline.

“Because we have no elevator, and it’s quite a step to the top of the tower.”

“Oh, we can do it,” Cora declared.

They were shown through the light, and the keeper explained how, by means of clock-work, propelled by heavy weights, the great lens was revolved, making the flashing light. It turned every five seconds, sending out a signal that all the mariners knew, each lighthouse being in a different class, and the signals they gave, either fixed or stationary, being calculated to distinguish different parts of the coast where danger lies.

On their return to the neat parlor, on the appearance of which the girls complimented Rosalie, who kept house for her father–his wife being dead–Cora saw a photograph lying on the centre table. At the sight of it she exclaimed:

“That is she!”

“Who? What do you mean?” cried Mr. Haley. “That is my sister!”

“And it is the woman who was in our barn!” Cora said. “I have thought all along it was. Now I am sure of it. Mr. Haley, I am sure I do not want to pry into your family affairs, but your daughter said something about her aunt being missing, and how worried you were. I am sure we have met her since–since her trouble. Perhaps we can help you.”

“Oh, if you only could!” exclaimed the light keeper. “My poor sister! Where can she be?”

“Suppose you tell me a little about her, and then I–and my friends–can decide whether the woman we met is the one pictured there,” and Cora passed the photograph to Bess.

“There isn’t much to tell,” said the keeper of the light, slowly. “My sister is a widow. After her husband died she went to Westport to work in an office. She had been a clerk before her marriage. Everything seemed to go well for a time and she occasionally wrote to me how much she liked it. A friend of hers was in the same building.

“Then my sister’s letters ceased suddenly. I got worried and wrote to her friend. I got an answer, saying there had been a robbery in the office where my sister worked, and that my sister had disappeared. A young girl left at the same time, and there was some doubt about the robbery, though two men were mentioned as being concerned in it. But my poor sister must have felt that they would suspect her–and she never would take a pin belonging to anyone else. But she went away, and I’ve tried all means to locate her, but I can’t. It has me worried to death, nearly.”

“What was your sister’s name?” asked Cora.

“Margaret Raymond.”

“That is the same woman!” spoke Cora, firmly. “Oh, to think we didn’t ask her more about herself!”

By degrees she and the other girls told the story of the woman in the burning barn. They did not so much as hint of their first suspicions about the fire.

“And what was the name of the girl who worked in the office with her?” asked Belle.

“Nancy Ford,” answered Mr. Haley.

“There can be no doubt of it,” declared Cora. “That settles it. What a coincidence! That we should find her brother here!”

“Oh, can you tell me where my sister is?” asked the light keeper.

“I am very sorry, but she went away in a hurry from my house,” said Cora, “and we have not seen her since. We feel sure she was the woman the sheep herder met that same night,” and she told about that incident.

“Bless that kind man–he helped her some, anyhow, and bless you girls,” said Mr. Haley, fervently. His eyes were moist, and those of the girls were not altogether dry.

“How can we trace her?” asked Bess.

“The only way I see,” spoke Cora, “is to write to the town toward which she went after the sheep man saw her. The authorities there might give some information.”

“I’ll do it!” cried the light keeper, as he made a note of the place. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, we have done scarcely anything,” answered Cora. “We wish it were much more.”

Further details and forgotten incidents were mentioned as bearing on the case, and then the girls departed in the boat. It was a little rough going back, and the spray flew over them.

“Isn’t it strange?” observed Belle.

“Very queer how it all turned out,” agreed Eline.

“Poor woman,” said Cora. “I feel so sorry for her!”

The boys remained out fishing nearly all day, and when they returned, not having had exceptional luck, Cora took Jack to one side and asked:

“What was the name of the girl you and Ed met on the road the time of our break-down?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, Sis. If I knew I’d have sent her a souvenir postal. What’s the answer?”

“Oh, nothing, I thought perhaps she had mentioned it.”

“Nary a word. Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes, we went to the lighthouse. And, Jack, what do you think? That woman–the one in our garage–is Mr. Haley’s sister!”

Jack was properly astonished, and he and the other boys listened with interest to the story of the identification.

“Say,” drawled Norton, “if we find Nancy Ford and Mrs. Raymond we’ll be doing a good thing.”

“If,” observed Ed, significantly.

CHAPTER XVIII

BELLE SWIMS

The tide was just right. In their newest bathing suits the motor girls had assembled on the beach in the hot sun. Their white arms and necks showed the winter of indoors, but their faces had already taken on the tan of the seaside. Soon arms and necks would be in accord.

The boys were out on the float, splashing about, occasionally “shooting the chutes” and diving from the pier.

“Is the water cold?” asked Cora, going down to where the waves splashed on the pebbles. Daintily she dipped in–just a toe. “How is it, Jack?”

Jack was tumbling about near the beach like a porpoise.

“Sw–swell!” he managed to gasp, the hesitancy being because a wave insisted on looking at his tongue, or trying to scrub his already white teeth–Cora could not decide which.

“Is it really warm?”

“Of course!”

“It feels cold.”

“I know. That’s because you stand there and stick one toe in. Get wet all over and–you’ll feel – ”

Jack was suddenly plunged under water by Walter, who had come swimming up, so the sentence was not finished. But Cora could guess it.

“I’m going in; come on, girls!” she cried.

“Oh, wait a little,” pleaded Belle.

“And you said you were going to learn to swim to-day!” challenged Eline. She looked particularly well in her dainty bathing costume.

“Well, I–I didn’t know the water would be so deep!”

“Deep!” echoed Cora. “It’s getting shallower all the while. The tide is going out. Come on.”

She waded out a short distance, bravely repressing the spasmodic screams that sprang to her lips, and turning to the others said:

“It–it’s–fi–fine–co–come on–in!”

“Listen to her!” cried Bess. “It must be like a refrigerator to make her stammer like that.”

“It is not,” said Cora. “It–it’s real–real warm–when you–you–get used to it.”

“I have heard said,” remarked Eline with studied calmness, “that one can get used to anything–if one only makes up one’s mind to it.”

“Come–come on – ”

Cora did not finish. A wave splashed up on her, taking her breath. Then, resolving to get it over with, she strode out, threw herself under water and a moment later was swimming beside Jack.

“Cora’s in!” exclaimed Bess. “I’m going too.”

“So am I,” added Eline. “Come on, Belle!”

Belle hesitated.

“I can only swim a few strokes,” she said. “I learned at Lake Dunkirk.”

“It’s much easier in salt water than fresh,” insisted Eline, taking hold of Belle’s arm. “Do try!”

Hesitatingly Belle waded out into the water. She gasped and choked as the chill struck through her, then, resolving to be brave, she plunged herself under. She gasped more than ever, but did not give up.

“You are doing fine!” cried Eline, as she struck out toward the float.

Suddenly Belle screamed.

“Are you going down?” asked Eline in alarm, yet they were not out beyond their depth.

“No, she’s going up!” asserted Walter, who was swimming near by.

“Don’t make fun of her!” commanded Cora.

“I’m not. She’s making fun of herself.”

Again Belle screamed.

“Oh! Oh!” she cried. “Something has me! I–I’m sure it’s a lobster.”

“None of us boys missing!” joked Ed, as he splashed up.

“Lobsters are worth forty cents a pound! Save that one! Save it!” commanded Norton, as he came alongside with strong, even strokes.

“Oh dear!” screamed Belle.

She really seemed in distress, but something nerved her to strike out as she never had before, and before she knew it she was swimming.

A figure in red guided to her side–a veritable mermaid. It was the girl from the lighthouse–Rosalie.

“Take it slowly–you are doing lovely!” she commended. “You are swimming!”