The Deserted Yacht

A Strange Reception

A young girl in a neat traveling suit of dark blue, alighted from the last car of the long train which had pulled into the Cheltham Bay station and with eager eyes surveyed the crowded platform.

"Expectin' someone to meet you, Miss?" the colored porter inquired politely.

"Why, yes, I was," Madge Sterling returned, a perplexed frown puckering her eyebrows. "Just set the suitcase down anywhere here. My friends will surely come in a few minutes."

With profuse thanks, the porter pocketed the coin she gave him and swung back into his car. Madge looked anxiously about. On all sides persons were hurrying up to greet friends who had arrived on the train, but no one appeared to be searching for her.

"Strange Enid didn't meet me or at least send word," she thought. "I do hope I've made no mistake about the time."

To make sure, she opened her purse and looked again at the letter which she very nearly knew by heart. She had made no error. Enid Burnett had stated very clearly that she would be on hand when the ten-fifteen train arrived.

"It will be more convenient to meet you at Cheltham Bay than any other place," she had written in a bold scrawl. "From the station we'll go directly to our yacht, The Flora which will be anchored in the harbor. Father will have everything in readiness for the trip, so the instant you set foot on deck, we'll sail. Here's to two glorious weeks on the water!"

Madge folded the letter and laid it away. There was nothing to do but wait. Undoubtedly, Enid had only been delayed.

She watched the heavy train move slowly from the station. The crowd on the platform rapidly thinned and soon she alone remained. After a little, she picked up her suitcase and carried it to the waiting room, stationing herself near a window where she could see all automobiles driving in and out of the railway yard.

"I can't imagine what is keeping Enid," she thought anxiously. "It looks as though I may be stranded here."

It occurred to her that her friend might have dispatched the invitation upon the impulse of the moment, and then, in the rush of social affairs which always engulfed her, forgotten about it. Enid was generous to a fault but she was apt to be careless too. In school she had been known to make rash promises which she promptly forgot.

"If I've traveled all the way from Loon Lake, Canada, to participate in a mythical yacht cruise, I'll never forgive her," Madge assured herself.

Time dragged slowly. She made innumerable trips to the water fountain, she experimented with the gum machine and even tried to interest herself in a magazine. At length, after more than an hour had passed, she arose impatiently.

"I don't believe she's coming," she decided. "There's no sense in waiting here forever."

After a brief debate, she walked over to an information window.

"I know this isn't in your line," she said apologetically to the young man in charge, "but I'm trying to locate a party by the name of Burnett. You're not acquainted with anyone by that name?"

"You don't mean Frank Burnett, the yachtsman?"

Madge nodded eagerly.

"I can't say I know him," the other informed, "but I did see by the paper that his yacht had dropped anchor in the bay. It came in yesterday, I believe."

This information left Madge more puzzled than before. If The Flora had arrived at Cheltham Bay, she could think of no reason for Enid's failure to meet her.

"If you want to get out to the yacht, you likely can find some boatman at the dock who will row you over," the clerk advised.

Madge thanked him and turned away. She scarcely knew what to do. It would prove embarrassing to go alone to the Burnett yacht, and yet, surely they were expecting her. After traveling so many miles it would be foolish to return home without making an attempt to see her friend. It was barely possible that an accident had delayed Enid.

"I may as well try to locate the yacht," she decided.

She carried her suitcase outside and a taxi driver immediately came to her assistance. Directing him to take her to the wharf, she sank wearily against the cushions, scarcely troubling herself to gaze at the tall office buildings which whizzed by on either side as the cab rattled over the rough pavement. A short drive carried her within sight of the bay and only then did she lean forward in her seat to obtain a better view.

The taxi halted near the wharf and the driver swung open the car door. Madge alighted and paid her fare.

"Can you tell me which yacht is The Flora?" she inquired.

"She lies yonder." The driver indicated a vessel anchored out some distance in the bay.

At sight of the trim little yacht with its gay flags fluttering in the off shore breeze, Madge's spirits arose. It was good to be near the water again. And a two weeks' sailing trip would be such glorious fun!

She looked about for someone to row her out to the yacht. The wharf appeared deserted, for the hour approached noon. After walking a short distance along the water front, her attention was attracted to a man who sat hunched over in a boat that was tied to the dock. His lunch was spread out on the seat before him, but his real interest seemed to center upon something out in the bay. Following his gaze, Madge saw that he was intently watching The Flora.

"He must have a boat to rent," she reasoned. "I'll see if I can bargain with him."

She approached closer and addressed him. Startled, the man turned sharply and stared.

Instantly, Madge regretted that she had spoken for the boatman was not at all to her liking. He was dressed in dirty white duck trousers and a grimy shirt, but it was his face rather than his clothing that repulsed her. She saw at once that he was of foreign extraction, though she could not have guessed his nationality. His complexion was extremely dark and his straight black hair had not been cut in many weeks. His eyes bore into her with disconcerting intensity.

"I beg your pardon, do you have a boat to rent?" she questioned.

He continued to stare until she thought he would never reply. Then touching his cap, he muttered something, speaking with such an accent that she could scarcely make it out.

"Three dolla' an hour," he added indifferently.

"I didn't want to buy the boat," Madge smiled. "Perhaps I failed to understand correctly. You said-"

"Three dolla' an hour," he repeated, scowling darkly.

"Why, that's unreasonable. At my Uncle George's fishing lodge in Canada we rent out boats for all day at less than that."

The boatman shrugged indifferently and Madge thought for an instant that an expression of relief actually crossed his face.

"That my price," he insisted. "Maybe you find another boat."

Madge looked up and down shore but there was no other boat to be had. She realized full well that she was being outrageously over-charged, but she was eager to reach the Burnett yacht without delay.

"I'll rent your boat," she decided. "It won't take more than half an hour to get where I'm going."

"Three dolla' minimum charge," the boatman announced impressively.

"Are you trying to discourage me?" Madge demanded suspiciously. "I don't believe you're very anxious to rent your boat." Without giving him an opportunity to reply, she took a small roll of bills from her pocketbook and handed him three. "Here's your pay in advance."

He accepted the money with obvious unwillingness and lifted her suitcase into the boat. She seated herself and he cast off the painter.

"Take me to The Flora," she directed. "See, it's that yacht this side of the buoy."

Madge was unprepared for the effect her words produced upon the man. He turned quickly, his eyes smoldering. An expression she could not fathom, flashed over his face.

"I not take you there!" he uttered vehemently, thrusting the three bills rudely toward her. "Here, take your money! You mus' get another boat!"

An Unwilling Boatman

Madge was taken aback at the boatman's unexpected announcement but she had no intention of being diverted from her original plan. His very reluctance only whetted her determination to hold him to his bargain.

"Keep the money," she insisted. "You made the agreement and you must stand by it. Why do you object to taking me to the Burnett yacht?"

The man muttered something about "a bad omen" which she failed to understand.

"Come, don't try to tell me there's any silly superstition about that boat," she declared impatiently. "Will you take me there or must I call the authorities?"

At mention of the police, the man grew even more agitated. He looked first toward The Flora and then at Madge. After a moment's indecision, he picked up the oars and without a word, rowed away from the dock.

It struck Madge that she might be doing a foolish thing to trust herself to a strange boatman, particularly one who acted so queerly. However, she felt there was no real danger as long as they were within sight of other boats anchored in the bay.

Madge had never been one to forego an adventure for the sake of caution. Perhaps her life in the north woods had taught her resourcefulness and courage. At any rate, since the death of her mother and the strange disappearance of her father, she had learned to look out for herself. Since childhood she had made her home with her Uncle George and Aunt Maude Brady, and many pleasant summers had been spent at their fishing lodge on Loon Lake, Canada. There she had made friends with Anne Fairaday, an orphan living at Stewart Island. This acquaintance had plunged her into an exciting hunt for a hidden paper, the story of which is related in the first volume of the Madge Sterling series, entitled, "The Missing Formula."

At Loon Lake she had met Jack French, a handsome young forest ranger, who, in taking leave of her on the eve of her trip to Cheltham Bay, had warned her that before the summer ended she might see him again.

Madge had been elated at the thought of spending a vacation aboard the Burnett yacht. Enid was the daughter of a noted sportsman and collector of antiques, and since the death of her mother had been permitted to grow up much as she pleased. Notwithstanding, she was a cheerful, friendly sort of girl, not in the least spoiled.

During the tedious trip across the bay, Madge had ample opportunity to study the face of her boatman. He avoided her glance, yet when she looked away, she could feel his eyes upon her.

"He must be a Hindu," she thought uncomfortably. "At least, I'm sure he's from India."

Although the man was dressed in cheap, rough clothing, he did not appear to be a suitable type for the occupation he had chosen. His hands were not those of one who worked at hard labor. Madge noticed too that he wore an expensive looking jade pin, fastened over his breast.

"There's something wrong with the picture," she meditated. "He must have seen better days-or else he stole that pin!"

She wished anew that she was safely aboard The Flora. The yacht was still a considerable distance away, too far for her to see anyone on deck.

"Why doesn't he row faster?" she asked herself impatiently. "We'll never get there at this rate."

At her suggestion to the effect, the boatman only stared uncomprehendingly until she gave up trying to make him understand.

"He knows what I want but he's stubborn," she decided. "What ails him anyway? I'm certainly paying him enough for his work."

She longed to take over the oars and show him how to row a boat. Instead, she reconciled herself to a slow trip under the broiling noonday sun and tried to become interested in a small sailboat which was tacking in toward the harbor.

At length, they drew near The Flora, approaching from the port side. Madge scanned the railing for a glimpse of her friends. The decks appeared deserted.

"Where is everyone?" she asked in surprise.

The boatman rowed alongside of the yacht and she grasped a trailing rope.

"Hallo, aboard!" she called out.

There was no answer. "You see," the boatman muttered. "No one aboard. We go back."

"Not yet, we don't," Madge corrected. "There must be someone here." She glanced at her wrist watch and saw that it was twelve-fifteen. "Probably everyone is eating luncheon in the cabin."

She shouted again but as there was no reply, indicated to her boatman that she wanted him to row around the yacht until they came to a rope ladder which hung down over the side.

"Do you mind climbing up to see if anyone is aboard?" she asked.

The boatman rewarded her with another blank stare.

"He understands perfectly," Madge thought irritably. "Oh, well, I see I either must argue until I'm black in the face or do it myself."

Instructing the boatman to wait for her, she grasped the rope and began the ascent. The ladder weaved back and forth as the vessel rolled gently in the waves but Madge was not afraid of falling.

"I feel like a monkey in the zoo," she chuckled. "Such a dignified way to arrive!"

She reached the deck and looked about. Everything was in order but there was no sign of activity. It struck her as peculiar that no sailors were on duty, although she knew that Mr. Burnett employed only a few men. Everything was strangely quiet.

"It begins to look as though I'm not expected," she told herself. "Of course, Enid and her father may have gone to the station after I left. That would account for their absence. I hope I didn't miss them."

She wandered around to the opposite side of the yacht and paused before a door which led down into the dining salon. It was half ajar and as she opened it wider she saw that the salon was empty.

"Not a sign of the cook or anyone," she reflected. "This is what I call an enthusiastic welcome! And I'm half starved too!"

Passing a stateroom, Madge thought she heard a slight sound from within. She knocked loudly upon the closed door. There was no response.

She turned away, only to pause and retrace her steps. A queer intuitive feeling had taken possession of her-a conviction that all was not as it should be aboard the yacht.

She hesitated before the door, scarcely knowing whether or not it was her business to investigate. Then with sudden decision, she grasped the knob and turned it.

The sight that greeted Madge's eyes left her startled and dumbfounded.

"Oh," she gasped. "What dreadful thing has happened?"

The Abandoned Yacht

The door had swung back to reveal a wrecked stateroom. Everything was in confusion. Chairs were upset, papers strewn over the floor and a table lamp had toppled to the floor. Obviously, the room had been occupied by Mr. Burnett, for his clothing hung on nails along the wall, but there was no sign of the noted yachtsman. The bed had not been slept in on the previous night.

Madge was thoroughly alarmed. It was immediately apparent to her that something was radically wrong. She saw clearly that there had been a struggle, and from the condition of the furniture and fixtures, it had been a desperate one. What had become of Mr. Burnett and Enid?

"It's a case for the police," she decided instantly. "I must return to the city as quickly as I can and bring someone here!"

Closing the door behind her, she ran back to the railing. Peering down, she searched in vain for her boatman. Her eyes turned shoreward and she saw him several hundred yards away, rowing hurriedly toward the harbor.

"Come back!" she called frantically. "I want to go with you!"

She shouted until she was nearly hoarse, but the boatman gave no indication that he heard. He kept his face lowered and not once did he glance back toward the yacht.

"Now what shall I do?" Madge asked herself in desperation. "I believe that man left me stranded here on purpose! Oh, I could scalp him!"

She gazed resentfully after the retreating boatman, observing that he made far greater speed than on the trip out to the yacht. Not for a moment did she believe he had mistaken her order to wait.

She consoled herself with the thought that she would have him arrested for carrying away her luggage. However, unobserved by her, the boatman had brought the suitcase aboard. She saw it on the deck as she turned around.

"He came aboard quickly enough when he wanted to!" she exclaimed. "I wonder why he ran away? Perhaps he had a suspicion that something was wrong here."

She recalled his reluctance to rent his boat and his unwillingness to make the trip to The Flora. Having taken an instant dislike to him, she decided without further consideration, that he was a questionable character and would bear investigation. She determined to speak of him when she acquainted the authorities with the situation as she had found it aboard the yacht.

For the present, her one desire was to reach shore as quickly as possible. She gazed anxiously about for help. Several small boats were plying in and out of the harbor, but they were too far away to be of aid. As if by a preconceived plan, they kept beyond hailing distance.

"It looks as though I'll be here for some time," Madge commented inwardly. "Oh, dear, and it's so important that I notify the police without delay. Something dreadful may have happened to Enid and her father."

Since it availed her nothing to stand helplessly by the railing, she decided to look about the ship more carefully and see if she could make further discoveries. It was difficult for her to believe that the yacht had been entirely abandoned.

After visiting the kitchen and the lounge, she noticed a second cabin not far from the one occupied by Mr. Burnett. The door was unlocked and she entered, half expecting to find everything in disorder.

She found herself in Enid's room. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Toilet articles were neatly arranged on the dressing table, and in opening a closet door, Madge saw a long line of pretty frocks. An empty traveling bag occupied the shelf above.

"Enid couldn't have gone away for the weekend or she would have taken her things," she reasoned.

Only the bed gave evidence that the room had been occupied within the past twenty-four hours. The sheets were wrinkled and the blankets lay upon the floor, as though the occupant had tossed them hurriedly aside upon arising.

"It's beyond me," Madge mused. "Evidently, Enid slept here last night-or at least a portion of the night, but Mr. Burnett didn't."

In her mind, the conviction was steadily growing that her friends had met with violence. She had read that robberies were not an infrequent occurrence aboard luxurious yachts, and Mr. Burnett was known to have valuables and art treasures in his possession.

Sorely troubled, she returned to the upper deck to watch for a boat, but as there was none close by, she wandered restlessly about.

"It's odd what became of all the sailors," she thought. "Surely someone would be here to tell the story, even if there had been a robbery. It's the most mysterious thing I ever encountered."

Presently, she reentered Mr. Burnett's cabin to look again for clues. Crossing to the desk, she jerked open a drawer. To her astonishment, she saw, tucked beneath some papers, a leather billfold. A glance disclosed that it contained two twenty dollar bills.

"This doesn't look like robbery after all," Madge told herself. "I don't know what to make of it now."

She was even more puzzled when she entered the bathroom adjoining the cabin and found a silver watch lying upon the shelf above the wash bowl. She was still examining it when she became aware of a slight scraping sound in the bedroom. At first she thought she must be mistaken, but as she heard it again, she hastily retraced her steps.

All was quiet in the stateroom. Madge looked about but could see no cause for the strange sound. She was about to turn away when it was repeated, and this time she distinctly traced it to a closet on the opposite side of the room.

"There's some one in there!" she thought in excitement.

She ran to the door and tried to jerk it open. It was locked.

As she moved the handle, she heard the same scraping noise, louder than before. Now she knew that someone was imprisoned within and pulled frantically at the knob. Realizing that she was only wasting her strength, she looked about the room for some object with which to break the lock. Instead, her eye fell upon a key that lay on the carpet at her feet. Evidently, it had fallen from the door or had been dropped purposely.

With nervous fingers she fitted it into the lock. It refused to turn. She worked with it and after several attempts, was rewarded by a sharp click.

She jerked open the door and stepped back in amazement and horror. There at her feet, bound and gagged, lay Enid.