Sinister Island by Charles Wadsworth Camp (readict books TXT) 📖

Chapter VI THE SNAKE’S STRIKE

It was clear and still that night. Although he was not entirely free from the oppressive, indefinable sensations of the previous evening, Miller slept better. Tony, on his part, behaved in the same disturbing manner, sitting silent and motionless in the kitchen doorway until Miller went to bed, then extinguishing his lamp with evident reluctance.

The daylight, however, brought Miller’s cheerfulness back to him. He was early on deck, scanning the dunes expectantly; but the girl did not come to the beach that morning. Miller was sorry. He grew discontented.

A small gasoline launch rounded the end of the island at eight o’clock. Miller reawakened to a sense of interest as it chugged noisily in the direction of the Dart. It probably held Morgan. By deft questioning he might learn something of the girl’s personality from her father. Why not, indeed, say to Morgan: “I met your daughter on the beach yesterday”! But he remembered he shared the secret of those early morning excursions with her. Moreover, his effort with Anderson had convinced him that he could not speak casually of her.

Morgan was a small man, past fifty, with a stout, pleasant face and a ready smile. He stepped aboard, introducing himself easily.

“Please be frank if you don’t care to be disturbed. I thought I’d run over and see. I live in the house at the end of the island. My name’s Morgan.”

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Miller answered warmly. “I hoped some one from that delightful house would.”

“I suppose you’re cruising up the coast.” Morgan said.

“Yes—anchored here night before last. I find it so attractive I’m in no great hurry to go on.”

Morgan laughed.

“When the impulse comes, think of us and resist it. A boat in the inlet is an event. Yours is the first in three months.”

Miller pointed at the apparently deserted fisherman’s craft Morgan shrugged his shoulders. A shadow crossed his face.

“No company. A sour native. You see the Andersons and my household are the whole community. Have you met the Andersons!”

“They rowed out yesterday.”

“Now that you know us all you must let us see a lot of you.”

“I want to,” Miller said. “I’m anxious to look at that old place of yours. It must have a history.”

“Too much history,” Morgan answered drily. ” Still it doesn’t do to run down one’s own possessions—particularly when economy chains one to them. Come when you wish. Naturally, you’re never likely to find me far away. “

Morgan remained, chatting, for only a few minutes. Miller pressed him to stay, for the little man amused him with his genial air and a dry humour. Morgan, however, refused, saying he had promised to go to Sandport with Anderson that morning.

As he watched the launch disappear around the bend Miller lost patience with himself. Why had he found it impossible to speak of the girl to her father? That afternoon, at least, he would take himself in hand. He would open a campaign. He would call on the Andersons early, and afterwards return Morgan’s call. He had told the girl to see him at the plantation house, and he recalled the shrinking obedience in her eyes. If he did not see her he would throw off this unaccustomed embarrassment. He would force himself to speak of her to Morgan.

As soon as he had lunched he told Tony to row him ashore. They landed a quarter of a mile below the fisherman’s tub. He directed Tony to return to the Dart. He said he would hail him when he wished to leave the island. Then he took the path which Anderson had indicated.

Stunted cedars and oaks met in a thick roof overhead, and an undergrowth of scrub palmettos and creeping vines was tangled waist-high between the trunks. The thought of snakes was inevitable. An army of them might have lurked unseen within a foot of where he walked. He stepped carefully, looking at the ground, keeping his ears open.

Before he had gone half a mile the path widened into a small clearing from the rear of which the coquina house rose with grey, uncompromising solidity. The trees cast heavy shadows across its square front, and over the roof of the tiny stable to its left, Miller paused. The agent had been right. This was lonelier, more enclosed than Morgan’s place.

Molly had evidently been on the lookout, for she ran eagerly down the verandah steps to meet him.

“Jim! I’m so very glad you’ve come,” she called.

“Where is Andy?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Had to go to Martinsburg,” she answered, “—simply had to. An important letter from his brokers. He had to see a lawyer right away and sign some papers. You can imagine how he hated it. If he hadn’t known you were coming—”

“But he’ll get back on the little boat this afternoon!”

“Unless this business positively chains him. In that case he thought you would change your plans and stay here with Jake and me.”

“Of course I’d stay. That would be necessary.”

“We’ll know a little after six,” she said. “Mr. Morgan went as far as Sandport with him to order some things for us both. I’ve been expecting him to come by.”

She laughed uncomfortably.

“You see, Jim, I’ve been stark alone in this ghastly place since luncheon.”

“Jake?” he asked.

“He started for a walk.”

“Here! Without company! I gathered yesterday—”

“Jake,” she said, “Was trying to ripen an acquaintance with the Morgans’ cook. You’re right Nothing less compelling would draw him so far afield alone on this island. And it’s such a bright day I didn’t think I’d mind his going. I urged him to go. A little relaxation—a little something cheering to think about—you don’t know what that means to him, Jim. He ought to be back soon.”

Miller turned towards the verandah, but Molly seemed to prefer the clearing. She made excuses for lingering there, pointing out the small view of the inlet which Jake had achieved by cutting away a few of the thickest trees, and describing the canvases which Anderson had planned but had been unable to carry through.

“Why, when the axe was working,” Miller asked, “didn’t you tear out that mass of undergrowth which threatens to swallow the house from the rear?”

“Jake’s been afraid to go in,” she answered. “He says he knows it’s full of snakes. Looks as though it might be, doesn’t it? We haven’t dared take the responsibility of forcing him to work there against his own judgment.”

“Mayn’t I see the house?” he asked. “I acknowledge you and Andy have some reason. Its exterior has a frowning, inhospitable air.”

She walked slowly to the verandah. She held the screen door open, motioning him to enter.

He stepped into a large, square, windowless hall. Even with the door open it was difficult to see at first, and he was chilled by the same revolting atmosphere that had crept into his stateroom two nights before.

He shivered.

“You ought to keep a light and a fire burning here.”

“It’s warm enough outside, isn’t it! Whole house is like this. We keep the doors and windows wide, but the heat and light appear to prefer the open.”

“Sensible elements!” Miller muttered.

The entire building housed this air of chill decay, and, although the rooms were large and comfortably furnished. Miller was restless in all of them. Molly’s listening attitude troubled him. He wandered from parlour to library to diningroom, and even to the kitchen. All bore testimony to Molly’s devotion and determination. Molly, Miller made up his mind, must be rewarded-No matter what happened he would see her and Anderson through to the recapture of the mental peace for which they were suffering on here.

“Smoke, Jim,” Molly whispered when they were back in the hall.

“Why do we whisper?” Miller asked.

“Then you do feel something?” Molly demanded.

He would not listen to his momentary doubt. Pushing the screen door open, he stepped into the sunlight of the clearing. The doubt became nothing.

“Of course not,” he said. “What do you think?”

“Then don’t,” Molly begged. “You mustn’t. But you didn’t go upstairs. Will you!”

“Not now, “Miller answered. “I don’t want to discount my first dreadful night in one of those bedrooms. When I do stay you mustn’t fail to entertain me with your choicest spirits. “

“Perhaps there’ll be none for you,” Molly said wistfully. “That would mean just nerves for Andy and me.”

“I’ll prove it,” he laughed.

He sat down on the verandah and chatted pleasantly until Molly smiled and laughed with him.

Morgan appeared about half past four on his way home from Sandport. Miller hailed him. Molly had just brought out the tea things, and Morgan looked at them longingly.

“May I?”

Molly beckoned.

“A party!” she called.

“That collection of huts,” Morgan said as he came up and sat down,” seemed such a metropolis I hated to leave it, so I lingered, ordering much more than I really needed. If Mr. Miller stays on I think I’ll give a party myself in a day or two.”

Miller laughed.

“Then there’ll be one on the Dart.”

“We’ll capture the air of a real winter resort yet,” Morgan said.

He picked up the cup of tea which Molly had poured and looked around with an air of contentment.

“If Andy were only back to enjoy this!” Molly sighed. “Did he say anything more?”

“He expected to catch the boat down to Sandport.”

“I hope nothing keeps him. You know I’m getting worried. I can’t imagine where Jake is. I think he walked over to flirt with your cook.”

Morgan’s eyes twinkled.

“That,” he said, “adds to the air of a true winter resort”

“But it isn’t like him,” she said uneasily. “He doesn’t know about you two. He wouldn’t be likely to leave me alone so long.”

“Time is no match for amorous skirmishing,” Miller said.

Yet, watching Molly, he saw her anxiety grow, needlessly, he thought. When, therefore, Morgan arose after an hour, he asked if he might not accompany him.

“I had promised myself to call on you this afternoon,” he explained, “and I will hunt up Jake and hurry him back.”

“Company through that piece of woods,” Morgan said, “is always a blessing.”

Miller turned to Molly.

“If I shouldn’t see him I’ll report here immediately, if I may.”

“If you would—” she said, relieved.

He joined Morgan at the foot of the steps. They crossed the clearing and walked down the path to the shore where he had landed.

“I’m glad I’ve a guide,” Miller said.

Morgan laughed.

“I’m glad to have some one to guide. Wait until you’ve seen the path from the shore to the quarters. It would make a Stanley long for Darkest Africa.”

“I’ve noticed,” Miller said with a smile, “that you dwellers in this