THE WHITE YAWL.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 263, 10 November 1906, Page 11

THE WHITE YAWL.

By J. B. Harris Burland, Antitor of " 'The Black 3<S®tor Oar," "Or. Silex," etc.

CHAPTER VHI. , THE LOWWAY BANKS. liijt was 'h° u< here." snid Prayliug, L 'bout her,', it vac." r,, ffas examining v chart spread out L the cabin top, and casting nn occafj ona l glance at a small compass. BickUvke was nt the tiller in his shirt L e V e6 . The pun beat down fiercely from a blue sky. nud there was only juflificni wind to fill the s.ul>. A rthimrO f heat danced and vibrated on the i ssler. <ij ust nboufc inT..'." queried Bir-ker-,,i., '-'What does ihal mean? Within 4 •<-.>. yard?:" Bill Prayling laughed. "So. Mr. , ' hn replied. "I wouldn't care io swear tn that. Within a mile mayW -How much water?'' asked Biekerjyte letting the bout come uplnto the ■jind. Prayling took a sounding. "Tow and a half fathoms," he replied. ■•■Jii rr ht. Tale one of our lifebuoys, jeeve "eight fathom of line on to it, and make the other end of the line fast to our small kcigo. Then heave the lot overboard." Prayling followed out Biekerdybc's instructions, md the -white buoy glittered on tip smooth surface of the ffl ,ter— a mWk that could be seen for a piile or mon. ■'That will do as a. centre to -work on," said ir N"ow iix up the fishjug tackle. Prayling wont for'ard -where three Boat coils i rope lay on the deck. "I'm thifcing two will he enough, , ' he fjiid tuning round to Biokcrdyke, "thex'll oly foul each other." "Right pu are. Two will be as good as three/ Praylin made the ropes fast one on the pert nd the other on the starboard Side of le yacht, and lot the strong steel hoss oni-li weighted with three pounds i lead gently down in the water. Lie boat was moving so slowly tilt they sank nt once to the. bottom, anda series of sharp jerks showed that the; were already catching in the sand aslhey were pulled over its surface. Biyling watched the quivering lines andgrinned. "They'l foul something in the bottom tkewill," he said, "and we'll have to lose tpm hooks and a few fathoms of good pass rope. The missus thinks a deai of Hem hooks, she. do."' "I hopelhey'll foul what we want to fnd."' Bicerdyke replied, "but I reckon it'll ba long job." And i long job it For seven. hours P Bf'etJf movcri slovrly back■watfe \& forwards ovor an area of about £ square -miles, traversing the ground" every direction that the -wind M>uJd*Mow her to sail. The blazing sun m£ >n a cloudless sky towards the. tvesfr horizon a.nd the blistering decks bo<»aiio tool. Every now and ihs.-.n the look caught firmly in something, trail the -aut line pulled the yacht to a fetaptill. Then Bickerdyke -would: hrir ier into the wind, and cast the tlii' hook overboard again and again n fie hope that it would also catch in'hat he expected to find. But lime afr time he was disappointed. The tiling hook had only gripped the sand. tayling began to express his contempt J this whole proceedings. It's like a needle in a bunch of hay," 1 said, "that's what it is. And if she tte sunk on theso banks her topmast !be showing above the water." "That has already occurred to mc," tickerdyke replied dryly. '"But if your tory is true she is undoubtedly somephere about and is on the bottom. It ivould be easy to cut away her mast before they scuttled her." Prayling grunted and once more studied the chart, drawing imaginary Hues with his thumb nail. Then there came a jerk on the starboard line, and the yacht which Was barely moving through the water, swung slowly around with ™ tide and came to a standstill. Bickerdyke loosed the jib sheet, and the jib flapped lazily in the iamt breeze. Prayling slacked out the taut line, and leaving his study of the '""art, cast the spare hook overboard. "Another of them blooming sandtels." he said, hauling in the slack line. Bnt to his surprise the second hook did lot rise meekly to the surface. It had also caught in something on the bottom. ■'Toul of the other line, 1 reckon." he kid, _ pulling w ith all his strength. «o, >t ain't, sir: I beg your pa.rdon it '"''• We've hooked a. fish this time." Bickerdyke came to his side, but the taited efforts of both men failed to move wher of the hooks. Then Bickerdyke rook the dingey forward, and lowering ■toe anchor into it. rowed out a few yards ahead of the taut lines. Then h<? "opped the a D chor into the sea, and returned to the yacht. ■Prayling hauled in on the chain, and ™ yacht moved forward a few feet. it did so, the linos, relieved of the pressure, grew slack. 'That'll do, Bill, make fast," said •Bickerdyke and he began to undress. % the time Prayling returned to the jwkpit, the young man was standing in lie Bhirt. •'."Well, I : m Wowed," said the old saior. Tou don't lose no time, Mr. ™ckßrd\'ke." "I'm going to have n bathe," Bicker■ope aasverod, looking at the smooth sinht irater. ' "Tab a sounding, will you." Wayiing threw the. load" overboard. rv.o fathom. -, he said, looking at the parkin the line. But as he spoke the. suddenly sank farther into the "Tirpp fathom," ho said. on something as wasn't the botfciS? d " re P ]i ed Bickerdyke. stripping JJK to the skin. "I'm going t/divt that spot. Get the lead "?or Gawd's sake, don't you be such J-ff-Yi! 1 ' ,,, cried Piling. "X there's "JS" there you'll get you're feet foul 2 I r °? e, and ther, ' you'll be, for I swim a stroke." * , an t s-nim?" queried Bickerdyke,

"-No, indeed.. Mr Bickerdyke, and why should I? We sailors know well enough that it aiu't no use to swim. In fair weather we ain't, no call for it. for we don't get overboard., and in foul—well, Sir, you can't swim far in oilskins and sea boots. Besides, larnin' to swim is a flyin , in the face of Providence." "Oh, well," replied Bickerdyke, with a laugh, "ll] r i s k it. There's twelve foot of clear water anyway," and without further argument he dived sharply down into the *ea. Old Prayling stood by the edge with an anxious face, and waited, counting the beats of his heart, as a method of measuring the seconds which passed by. Before he had counted twenty a pair of hands shot above the surface, and then BicKerdyko'.s face, red and drippingappeared in the sunlight. The young man swam to the bow of the yacht and caught hold of the bobstay. '■She s there,' , be gasped, "or some boat is there, at anyrate. Her mast is gone, and I fancy it's lathed to her hull. i couldn't ?ee ranch, but 1 felt a big spar along her side. I'm going down ag-ain to make, a rope fast.' . He swung himself out of the> water on to the deck and drawing m the port line, which had not caught in the wreck, he made one end fast to a cleet, and taking the other in two hands he dived onco. more into the sea. It iras a foolhardy foat, for there was a possibility of getting entangled in the rope, but he accomplished it successfully, and thirty seconds Inter ho rose to the. surface and scrambled on board again. •'Phew." he said breathlessly, "that was a harder job than I reckoned for. It's not easy to tie a knot under water, Bill, and keep yourself from rising to the surface at the same time. But the rope's fast enough to the bowsprit. Take the other lifebuoy and make all three ropes fn.st in it." Prayling followed out his instruction?, while Bickerdyke dried himself and put on his clothes. Then they got the anchor up. and sailing to the buoy Ihey had originally laid down as a mark, they took it on board. ••I congratulate you, Billie," said Bickerdyke, "you were less than half a mile out. in your reckoning. And now for home; I'm afraid we'll have to sleep on board to-nighr, unless the wind freshens.' , "Ami ■what be you going to do, sir, when we get hack?" "Toll the police, and have the boat raispd or examined by divers. How are we laying now by the compass. I can';. see any of the buoys," I "W.X.W.. nir." "Ts that about, right':" '"'Yes, sir. "We'll about fetch the moiyf-h of the creek on that. The tide's taking us east, a bit." The sun had already disappeared be»low the horizon, iind the western ? k v had faded from rich gold and crimson to a lemon colour, merging into a, wide expanse of pale green. Then the grey shadows of night began f.o creep up from the cast, and one. by one tjhe stars came into sight overhead. fiteamer lights glowed in the distance, -whito, and green, and red. The Lowwa.y- lightship flashed and died, incessantly and regularly, to tliß north, like the. pulse of a human "heart. Smaller lights popped up and disappeared, as though in imitation of their leader—little gas buoys marking the north-east channel. There was almost complete silence, save for the ripple of water at the bows, the occasional creak of a block, and the distant drumming of a steamer's screw. It was a peaceful and a beautiful scene, dear to the heart of every yachtsman and lover of the sea. But Biekerdyke as he stood at the tiller, smoking his pipe, saw none of its peace and none of its beauty. The silence appeared to him almost funereal, and the calm water only the grave, of dead men. He had much to occupy his thoughts on that voyage home, and now that the excitement of the search was over he felt moody and depressed. For the first time in his life he had been brought face, to face with matters of grave, and terrible import. Jack Lowry, his friend, was a fugitive from the law. and Alice Hutton, the. woman he loved, was bound, for some nnknown but doubtless imperative reason, to a man whom she did not wish to marry. For an hour there was almost total darkness, but then the moon rose up in the East, and flooded the water with its light. And then for the. fast time Bickerdyke noticed a small yacht bearing towards th"OT on the opposite track. Her sails* looked ghostly in the moonlight, and a. tinj ripple of water sparkled at her bow. A burgee, was flying from her masthead, but it was impossible to make out the design or colouring. She carried no lights and even her cabin was in darkness. ''Do you know her?" said Bickerdyke to Prayling, who was examining the approaching yacht with the glasses. "I can't say as how I know her, gir, but I've seen her before, I'm thinking. You see she's bow on, and there's not much to be seen of her." "Cutter or yawl?" asked Biokerdyke. "Can't see as yet, sir. Her mainsail '11 cover up the mizzen if there were one. Have you a gun on bonrd sir?" "No!" replied Bickerdyke. His mind had reverted to tiie same subject—the question of defending themselves apain.st this new peril that had come, into tin , quiet csens -and estuaries of the East Coast. "I'd give her a wide berth if I were ; you, air. Bear away n bit." But even as he spoke the other yacht altered her course, and they at once sa.w that she was a black yawl. ;Sh(> passed within thirty yards of them, find the moonlight streamed, full on her burgee, the colours of a wellknown, club a I Pillhavcn. "Ahoy. there." cried Riokerdyke. '"What, boat ay , you? We're tbo Beetle, from Pillhaven." •'"Vanna," cauio back the reply, clear and distinct across the water, "Goodnight." : "Good-night," cried Eickerdyke. "Well. I'm blowed," he said to Prayling, •'tha.t's nun."' "It nin'fc right, sir," replied Prayling; "it ain't human. It's my belief,"' a.iuj he lowered his voice to a whispor, "that she aint a. real boat at all —only the ghost of mat poor wreck as lies on the bottom with onr buoy fixed on to her like a sort o' tombstone." 1

CHAPTER IX. A RANSOM DEMANDED. The Beetle reached Pillhaven at six o'clock in the morning, and as soon as they had picked up their moorings a waterman rowed out to them. and. hanrVed Bickerdyke a note. It was marked '■urgent," and was in Delia's handwtiting. "It was handed mo last night," said the man, "and I got up. first thing, seeing as how you weren't back. I've to take an answer. -, Bickerdyke tore it open and read the few lines it contained. '•Dear Mr Bickerdyke," it said, "'please fix a meeting with mc early to-morrow. I've, heard from my father. Thank God, he is alive. Will tell you all when we meet. Give bearer time and place.— Delia Price. P.S.—Don't tell anyone of this yet." Bickerdyke. stared at the sheet of notepaper like a man just awakened from sleep; his brain could hardly grasp the intelligence. It was too sudden, too extraordinary, too inexplicable. For a few moments lie neither moved nor spoke, and the letter trembled slightly in his finders. Then he remembered that the boatman was watching him. and was waitingfur an answer. J ''Half a minute, Andrews,'" lie said, and, disappearing into the cabin, he wrote the following short reply: ''Dear Miss Price, —Can't tell you how ' glad I am to get. youv good news. I j i will meet you at 11.30 by the coast- i j guard station. Yours sincerely. C. i i Bickerdyke." I i He placed it in an envelope, carefully sealed it with red wax, and a clear cut impression of the Bickerdyke arms from his signet ring, and handed it to the man. "Please deliver this at once," he said, emphasising his words with the gift of half a crown, "and give it into Miss Price's own hands." "Aye, sir," the man replied with 'a. twinkle in his eye, "thank 'cc kiudjy, sir. Ain't had much wind outside, liave ye, sir?" "Not much," Bickerdyke replied, curtly. The boatman touched his and pushing off from the yacht-,, vowed ashorp. Bickerdyke turned to, Prayling, who was vigorously swabbing the decks. "I want to go ashore, now. Bill," he said, "and I want you fco stay handy where I can find you if T. want yon. Consider yourself as engaged on the Beetle for a week at least.. Things are moving; and, look here, Bill, don't fay a word yet of what we've seen. I have just had some important new.-. But when you're asAore. find out all you ■ can about the "Wuina." "I reckon pjyp's at the bottom, right j enough," the, old man replied, "my bro- | ther, he h(Vd just the same thing happen i to him. b.£ had. It's a gift in our family, , it is; vpQ can see things as ain't there, ! so to speak; forewarnings of trouble, j they are, I reckon, sent mebbe for some ; goovf purpose." ! '-"Well, I saw the boat too." said Biokdryly. "Mebbe you've the gift." Prayling re- ] "but you mark my word. sir. she's 'ji there, on the Lowway Banks, ami our ■ lifebuoy is a-marking her grave like a j tombstone." "We shall see," said Rickerdyke, "all in good time. But for the present, Bill, don't say a word.' "Right you are, ?ir. T ain'r given to tnlkin'. I'll put you ashorp when you're i ready, sir." "I am ready now." The. two men rowed oft" in the dingey, and at half-past eleven Bieke.rdyko, who had sculled himself down the creek in his dingey, had landed at the coastguard station which lay to the east of Pillhaven along the edge , of the creek. It was a desolate spot, nearly a mile outside, the little town, and with nothing to the east of it but a bare tract of maTshlaud intersected with creeks and Rirkordyke had chosen it on account of its loneliness. He guessed that Delia Price did not wish their meeting to attract the attention of the village gossips and he did not wish to meet her in any place where Mr. Tearle would be likely to see them. He had not to wait long. When hehad made the painter of the dinghey fast to the landing stage and had asked the coastguard on duty to keep an eye on her, he climbed to the top of the bank and saw the gleam of a white dress barely two hundred yards away from him. Delia was sauntering slowly along the grassy path on the other side of the dyke, which had bidden - er from his view. He descended the slope and went to meet her. '■'I'm so glad you've come back," she ! cried, as she shook him warmly by the i hand. "I want your advice and help. I have said nothing of this to anyone yet. not even to Alice." '■'It is great news," stammered Bicker- j dyke, uncertain what to say. lie could i not understand why there, was still an anxious look on the g.rFs face. It was not the face of a daughter whose father has just returned from the dead. It suggested difficulties still to be encountered, and sorrow that had not yet been lightened. j "Shall we sit down here on the i grass?" she said. "J have n lot to tell ' you- —a lot to talk about ?" Without waiting for n reply she settled herself on the. bank under the ' shade of a. large briar, and Bickerdyke j took his place by her side. The bushes j grew thickly on cither side of them and i the grass was strewn with the. pink I petals of the wild rose. A few yards from their feet there wa3 a wide ditch that drained the flats. It was full of flowering reeds and grasses and its banks were luxuriant with vegetation. Beyond lay mile after mile of marshland almost unbroken by a single house j or tree. Pillhaven was out of sight, I 'hidden by a wide inward curve of the: I bank. It was an ideal spot for two ' j lovers, and Biekerdyke'e thoughts wan- • 1 dered for a moment to Alice Ilutton. Then the serious nature of his present I business obtruded itself, and he looked i inquiringly into Delia's face, i '"I have here," she said in answer to hLs i [ unspoken question, "a letter from niv i ■ father. It was posted, as you will see, i I yesterday morning in London. Will you j I please read it?" ! She handed him a grey envelope and I he carefully scrutinised the postmark ! and the handwriting of the address. j "Loudou, E.G.," he said, ;is he extract - ! ed the letter, and then he gave a cry I of astonishment, for the notepaper was I headed. "'Yacht Beetle. R.C.V'.f." j "Uow in the name of fortune ''I j be began. "Rfad it." exclaimed Delia, "please' ! read it before you say anything about i '■ t-he matter." Bickerdyke read the letter, which ran : as foilo-w-fi: — "Dear Delia.—l am a prisoner in the I hands of those who are able to defy all i efforts at rescue or escape. They demand the sum of £50,000 for my liberty. If. this sum is not handed over to them .within ten days of the date of this letter, propose to gut mc .to a fejruel '■,

and ilideous death. For the love of heaven I entreat you to make all haste to procure the money in gold and hand it over to them. I enclose you a cheque /'or the amount and a written authority to my bank to advance the sum on the securities deposited with them.

The money is to be secured in fifty bags of one thousand sovereigns each, and is to> be deposited in the following place:—

"A mile N.N.E. of the Whitlingsea Spit Buoy is a small sand bank known as the Whitlingsea Middle Bank. It is not buoyed, as it is only part of the great Whitlingsea Bank, and only divided from the rest of this great "stretch of sand by two narrow and shallow channels. The Middle Bank is not more than a quarter of a mile in length and about a hundred yards in breadth. It is entirely uncovered at low tide. A switch, known in these parts as a beacon, has been stuck firmly in the centre of this bank and the money is to be buried at the foot of this switch at least thirty inches below the surface of the sand. A small piece of white linen is then to be fastened to the top of the switch. It must not be large enough to attract attention, but must bs visible to those who are on the lookout for it. This ,will be taken as a signal that the money has been, deposited in the place indicated;.

"I must particularly impress on you the importance of keeping the whole transaction a secret. If any attempt is made to eaptuer the men who come for the money 1 shall myself pay the penalty with my life. If they discover that they arc watched and followed, it is I again who will suffer. I have decided to make, the best of a bad business, and must ask you to held mc io the best of ymir ability. "1 implore you, Delia, to act promptly and teecretly. My life is at stake and it i*ste with you to save it and insure tfjie. return of "Your loving father." (To be Continued.)