Читать книгу The River Fury - H. A. Cody - Страница 5

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His visit to the Creek House gave Nat food for much thought. He longed to know more about the strange Sarason family, and why they were living in such a lonely place. What was the girl like? he wondered. Was she odd like her brother?

After supper he went on board the Scud for his shot-gun. Tom was annoyed at the delay, and spoke his mind very freely.

“Ru’ll have a great crow over us,” he declared. “Whoever heard of a boat bein’ held up fer a confounded dog! We’ll be the laughin’-stock of the river.”

“That doesn’t bother me one bit, Tom,” Nat replied, as he examined the gun. “I’m not going to let any dog worry our sheep and get off with it. You look after things here and we’ll sail in the morning at the turn of the tide.”

“Oh, a’right, me boy. But don’t shoot the sheep instead of the dog.”

With this parting thrust, Tom strolled across the deck, and went down into the cabin to finish his supper. When he was through, he washed up the dishes, and then sat upon deck, smoking to his heart’s content. He was not a man to let anything trouble him for any length of time so long as he had his pipe drawing to his satisfaction.

After dark Nat went to the barn and took up his position in the corner of an empty loft. Through an opening where a loose board had been torn off, he overlooked the yard where the sheep were gathered. At first it was difficult for him to see, but over in the east the moon, almost full, was rising above the distant hills. In a short time its light would flood the land and make everything visible.

Reclining upon a bunch of hay he waited and watched. As the moon rose higher, it traced a silvery path across the river and brought into view the Flying Scud lying at anchor in the cove below. He longed to be on board rather than in the barn waiting for the dog to appear. It seemed cowardly to be hiding in the loft. But what else was he to do? The sheep must be protected and saved. They were too valuable to be destroyed by a prowling cur. What right did anyone have to allow a dog to roam at large to injure the property of others? He thought of the man called “Bob,” and the words he had uttered that afternoon came to his mind. What did he mean by his warning? Suppose he should shoot the dog, what would Bob do about it? Who was he, anyway, and why had he brought his crazy father to such a place?

Slowly the time passed as he watched through the loop-hole. The moon was now riding high above the wooded hills, and he was able to see distinctly for some distance around. The sheep were quiet. A profound stillness reigned on river and land. A drowsiness came upon him and he longed to sleep. Once he nodded, and aroused with a start. He peered keenly forth, but all was quiet. He was becoming impatient. Perhaps the dog would not come. Its owners might have tied it up for the night lest something should happen to it. He decided to wait a few minutes longer, and then if nothing occurred, he would go to the house and have a good sleep.

When his patience was at last exhausted, and he was about to leave the loft, he noticed a sudden stir among the sheep. They had risen to their feet, and were huddling together with their faces turned towards the left. Nat looked in that direction and saw a woman walking slowly along with a big dog by her side. At once he knew that she was Sylvia Sarason. She had heard about his visit to the Creek House that afternoon and had come with her dog to tantalize him. Yes, that, no doubt, was the reason, and the thought caused his heart to beat fast. She must have surmised that he would be lying in wait to shoot the dog, so she had accompanied it this night. It was a daring act of defiance, and most likely she was enjoying the joke, and was much amused at the embarrassment that she knew would be his. He longed to do something, but felt helpless. He was held spell-bound by the scene before him.

As the girl came nearer he could see her quite plainly, although he could not distinguish her features very clearly. The dog was restless, and strained at the leash as they came close to the sheep, which were now greatly alarmed and bleating piteously. The girl did not look towards the yard, but kept her eyes straight forward. Once she spoke in a low voice to the dog, although Nat could not make out what she said. It took only a short time for her to pass the barn, and then the concealed watcher breathed a sigh of relief. His tense body relaxed, and he rose to his feet. His watch had ended in a most unexpected manner, and he knew that it would be useless to remain there any longer. He waited, however, until he felt sure that the girl was far enough away, as he did not wish for her to see him when he came out of the barn.

When he at length ventured forth, he looked keenly in the direction the girl had gone. Seeing nothing, he stepped out of the shadow of the building into the moonlight, and walked swiftly towards the house. He had gone but a short way, however, when a ringing, mocking laugh to the right startled him. He stopped suddenly and his face flushed with anger. He knew the meaning of that laugh. The girl was hiding in a thick clump of bushes making fun of him. He felt deeply humiliated as well as angry. While he had been hiding in the barn waiting to shoot the dog, that strange girl had walked calmly by with the animal in leash. She must have suspected that he was there. What a fool he had made of himself. He was strongly tempted to go after her, meet her face to face and tell her just what he thought of her impudence. But just then she began to sing, and as the notes floated out into the night, Nat forgot his anger. He did not understand the words, and the tune was strange to him. But that did not matter. It was her voice that thrilled his very soul, at times soft and plaintive, and again fierce and wild. Never before had he listened to such singing. It may have been the calmness of the night, and his own agitated emotions which wrought such a bewitching spell upon him. His heart beat fast and he longed to see the singer. That she was possessed of more than ordinary beauty he felt certain, for such a voice could only belong to one of surpassing loveliness. He took a step forward, moved by a sudden impulse, when the singing ceased and all was still. This brought him suddenly to himself, causing him to smile at his foolishness. He turned again towards the house, and as he drew near, his mother spoke to him from her bed-room window where she had been listening.

“Is that the girl of the Creek House?” she asked in a low voice.

“I think so, mother. What a wonderful voice she has.”

“She has, but her singing is uncanny. There is something very strange and wild about it.”

“Perhaps it is the night which makes it seem so. Have you been there long?”

“Ever since you went to the barn. I saw that girl with the dog. What was she doing here?”

“Making fun of me. She must have known that I was watching, and came along with the brute to annoy me. I wonder what I had better do now.”

“Come in and get some sleep. I am glad you didn’t shoot the dog, as I don’t want to have any trouble with those people. I am afraid of them.”

Nat found it difficult to get to sleep, for the thought of that girl with the wonderful voice was fresh in his mind. Who was she, anyway? He wished to know more about her, and why she and her brother had come to the Creek House with their crazy old father. He recalled the stories the neighbors had told about the lights seen there at night, and of boats coming and going. It was all very mysterious, and he was tempted to go over and spy upon the place. There might be something in the stories, after all. When at last he did sleep, he dreamed of the girl. He saw her standing before him, very beautiful, and smiling at him. He tried to reach out and catch her, but as he approached, she fled, always keeping him at a safe distance, and never allowing him to draw near. He pursued her through fields and woods until he came to the river. When he was sure that she was his at last, she stepped lightly into a boat, and pushed away from the shore, singing and smiling as she disappeared from view in a blanket of thick fog which had suddenly closed down over the river. As he stood imploring her to return, a great dog leaped out of the fog and hurled itself upon him. As he sprang aside in an effort to avoid the attack, he fell with the dog upon him.

He awoke with a start and looked around. It was morning, and he heard his mother in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The spell of his dream was still upon him as he went downstairs. He could not rid himself of it as he talked to his mother as he sat at the table. It was with him, too, when he went on board the Flying Scud. The tide had turned, and the wind was favorable, having changed early that morning. Occasionally Nat glanced over towards the Creek House as he helped Tom to get the boat under way. His mind was not on his work.

“What’s the matter, Nat?” Tom asked, “Not feelin’ well this mornin’? Sorry ye didn’t shoot the dog, eh?”

Nat laughed, and his bronzed face flushed.

“I’m thinking, Tom; that’s all. I had a queer dream last night. Do dreams ever come true?”

“Some do, an’ some don’t. But mostly they don’t, thank the Lord. I wouldn’t like fer some of my dreams to come true. Hi, there, look out, or ye’ll be on that foul ground.”

Nat was at the wheel, and the warning was necessary, for in running out of the cove towards the main channel he almost ran the boat aground upon a spot filled with weeds and eel grass.

“Ye’d better let me take the wheel, lad,” Tom suggested, “or we’ll be here fer good. Yer mind’s wanderin’ this mornin’.”

“Oh, I’m all right now, Tom. I’m wide awake after that narrow escape.”

Tom went forward, wondering what had come over his young master to make him so absent-minded.

“It must have been something mighty important his mother signalled him fer,” he mused. “Now, what in time kin it be? It was more’n the sheep, I’m sartin. There’s something more’n sheep on Nat’s mind.”

Tom was of an inquisitive nature, and prided himself upon knowing more than most people. He was especially interested in the Royal family, and to him Nat was as his own son. He had known him since he was a baby, and he now looked upon him as a child who needed to be directed by his experienced counsel. He, accordingly, was somewhat annoyed that Nat should keep any family secret from him. Something was wrong, he felt sure, and he was determined to find out what it was as soon as possible.

The Flying Scud was plowing her way down the main channel, her two sails spread wide and as taut as a drum-head. Just a few minutes after leaving the cove, Nat had caught sight of a little sail-boat off to the right some distance ahead, and knew it at once. Tom saw it, too, and watched it intently. He then came aft and stood at Nat’s side.

“It’s comin’ straight towards us,” he remarked. “I wonder who it kin be.”

Nat made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed upon the little boat. It was beating up river, and the milk-white sail was bending beneath the stiff breeze. Tom’s eyes glowed with admiration as he watched the craft as it at length cut across the Scud’s bow.

“Whoever’s handlin’ that boat knows his bizness,” he declared. “But he’s got too much sail fer sich a tub. My! look at that!”

This exclamation was caused by the boat coming suddenly up to the wind and racing to meet them on a short tack. As it came nearer, Tom stared in amazement.

“Why, it’s a woman!” he exclaimed. “Who in time kin it be!”

Nat paid no heed to his words, for his eyes and mind were upon the graceful figure at the tiller. Closer and closer swept the boat, and when it seemed as if it would hit the Scud amidship, it was brought up again to the teeth of the wind. As it surged by but a few yards away, the girl turned her face towards Nat.

“Why didn’t you shoot my dog last night?” she called out. She was then away, with a merry ringing laugh at the men’s surprise.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” Tom exclaimed. “I never saw a woman do sich a thing as that. Who in time is she, anyway?”

“A water-witch, I guess,” Nat replied. “She lives at the Creek House when ashore, which is not often.”

Tom glanced at his companion, but said nothing more. He was thinking of the words the girl had flung at them in passing. He wondered if she was the cause of Nat’s strange manner. Nat, however, offered no explanation, but all through the day the image of that smiling girl with the wind-tossed hair and ringing voice was ever in his mind.