The Phantom Violin Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII DIZZY'S WELCOME

  As they neared the wreck, from somewhere inside it came one wild scream,then the maddest laugh one might ever hope to hear. Just such a laugh ason that other night had completed the task of turning Jeanne into a ghostand frightening the mysterious men of the black schooner away.

  Had some stranger been present, he might have expected at this moment tosee Florence drop her oars in surprise and consternation. Instead, sherowed calmly on, chuckling meanwhile.

  "Dizzy's welcome!" she exclaimed.

  "Good old Dizzy!" Jeanne chimed in.

  Dizzy, as they had named him, had been aboardship when they arrived. Atleast they had found him swimming frantically about in the one-timedining room of the ship. He was a large loon. Crippled by some accidentso he could not fly, he had somehow got into this place, but had failedto find his way out.

  Almost starved, he had appeared to welcome their arrival. They had boughtfresh trout and fed him. From this time on, with no apparent desire toleave the place, he had become a devoted pet.

  "We'll be joining you shortly," Florence cried out to him as the boatbumped the side of the ship. This news was answered by one more deliriousburst of mirth.

  "One could almost think he was human!" Greta shuddered in spite ofherself. For her this old ship had a haunting appearance.

  Old Superior is ever ready enough to display his various moods. The girlshad not been aboard an hour when a dense fog came sweeping in from thenorth.

  "Never find our way if we were out there now," Florence said with a shrugof her stout shoulders.

  There came a slow, drizzling rain, followed by more and denser fog.

  Two hours later a wild storm came sweeping in. Sheets of water, seemingat times to leap from the very lake, dashed against narrow cabin windows.There was a ceaseless wash-wash of waves against the black hull of thewreck. What did this mean to the happy trio? Nothing at all. They weredown in their private swimming pool with Dizzy. Such a strange andwonderful swimming pool as it was too! Once the dining saloon of thegreat ship, it now lacked both chairs and tables, but the decorativerailing leading to the floor above made a perfect diving board. A secondrail ran slantwise into the water that at the far end must be twenty feetin depth.

  "Shoot the shoots!" Greta cried as, sitting astride the rail, she shotdownward to hit the water with a splash and to go swimming away. HowDizzy beat the water with his wings and screamed! How they laughed andsplashed him! How he dove and swam!

  "It--it's wonderful!" Jeanne bubbled, her mouth half filled with water."And to think," she exclaimed as she dragged herself to a place besideFlorence on the topmost step of the broad stairway, "to think that only ashort time back all this was swarming with people off on a holiday! Somegay, some solemn, some rich, some poor, but all promenading the deck andall coming in here for their dinner. And now look! Here we are, onlythree. And it is all ours! And look at the cabins! Rows of them on eitherside, high and dry, half of them. People could sleep in them."

  "But they never will," Florence said soberly. "We are the old ship's lastpassengers, no doubt about that. Next winter ice will form on the bay. Itmay be a foot thick. Then a storm will come roaring in and break it allup. The ice will come tearing at the old ship and cut her in pieces, ifshe lasts that long." Florence had not meant to add this last bit; itjust came out.

  "Of course the ship will last the summer through." There was theslightest tremor in Jeanne's voice. "Everyone says that. S-o-o-o!" shecried in her old merry way, "Let us enjoy it all while we may!" Onceagain she sat astride the rail to go sliding down and lose herself in amass of foam.

  "Old ships," Florence thought, "are like old houses. They have secrets totell. What stories the doors to those cabins could relate!" Her eyesswept the long array of cabin doors.

  "Secrets they keep," she whispered. "And treasures they sometimes hide,these old ships." She was wondering what the secrets of this old shipwere and whether after all there was some treasure hidden here.

  They had set up a small stove in the captain's cabin. Five minutes laterthey were all three doing a wild Indian dance round the fire. This endedby a pow-wow in blankets, then a feast of smoked trout, hard crackers andsome hot drink only Jeanne knew how to make. And still, outside, the winddrove rain against the windowpanes.

  "If she lasts that long," Jeanne whispered under her breath. She wasthinking of Florence's words about the ship.

  For the time it appeared there was nothing to fear. The wind dropped atsunset. Clouds went scudding away and the moon, shining like a newlypolished copper kettle, hung over all.

  After Greta and Jeanne had crept into their berths, Florence slipped intoknickers and mackinaw to climb the steps leading to the bridge. There,while the moon sank lower and lower, she paced slowly back and forth.

  In common with all other girls, this big girl had her dreams. Strangedreams they were that night. For her the ship was not a wreck, but aliving ship riding on an even keel, plowing its way through the darknight waters. She was the captain on the bridge. From time to time, as iffor a word with the wheelman, she paused in her march; at times, too,appeared to jangle a bell. For the most part she paced slowly back andforth.

  "Why not?" she murmured at last. "Why should I not some day command aship? I am strong as a man. There would be things to learn. I couldmaster them as well as any man, I am sure."

  She paused for a moment's reflection. Had there been other lady captains?Yes, she had read stories of one who commanded a tugboat in Puget Sound.

  And there had been the lady of the "Christmas Tree Ship." The husband ofthis Christmas tree lady had been lost on his craft while bringingthousands of Christmas trees to Chicago. She had chartered another shipand had carried on his work.

  "What a glorious task!" the girl murmured. "Bringing Christmas trees tothe people of a great city!

  "She's dead now," she recollected, "that lady captain is dead. TheChristmas tree ship sails no more. But it shall sail. Some day I shall beits captain. And Christmas trees shall be free to all those who arepoor."

  Laughing low, she once more resumed her walk on the bridge. This time herthoughts dwelt upon things very near at hand. "This wreck," she wasthinking, "this old _Pilgrim_--is it a safe place to be?

  "It--it just has to be!" she exclaimed after a moment's reflection. "It'ssuch a grand place for the summer. Broad deck, sloping a little, but nottoo terribly much. Cabins without number, a swimming pool that once was adining hall. Who could ask for more? And yet--" her brow wrinkled. Thelittle breezes that blew across the water seemed to whisper to her ofdanger.

  At last, shaking herself free from all those thoughts, she went down toher cabin and was soon fast asleep.