The only area that remained unsearched was the Core Sound section. The searchers had taken advantage of the night, when there was little else that they could do, to run down to the Inlet in order to find out if the yacht had pa.s.sed out to sea through the channel.

They were reasonably certain now that the Doctor and the young woman were not a great way off. Van Dusen was confident of speedily running down the culprit, and he was exultant over the prospect. But Roy was still tortured with anxiety concerning the safety of the girl he loved.

Before coming out of the shack to go aboard _The Hialdo_, Ichabod took time to tidy up his person a little. This, for the sufficient reason that they were going first to Beaufort, where it might be that he would encounter Sarah Porter. It would never do for her to see him except properly "spruced up" for a trip to town. There was, in addition, the fact that he was about to go aboard a handsome yacht, where, as he knew, everybody went about habitually "dressed up." As he took a parting glance into his tiny bit of mirror, the old fisherman indulged in a self-satisfied smirk, and spoke aloud.

"I'd be willin' to bet that when them fine fellers gits to be as old as me, they can't tell as how ten single women kissed 'em all in one day, an' another one, by cracky, made eyes an' jest didn't darst!"

Having thus said, Ichabod hurried off to his visitors, and a minute later was following them up the ladder to the deck of _The Hialdo_. Van Dusen had taken on a pilot at Ocrac.o.ke, so that they had no trouble in following the intricate round-about ship's channel to the town.

Captain Ichabod directed the place of anchorage. This was in the small channel directly in front of the Inlet Hotel, where Sarah Porter reigned supreme. They would use her wharf in going ash.o.r.e. He admitted to himself that he had been pleased over being kissed by the "young fry"; but he also admitted that the chief appeal to him had been made by the elderly woman who had looked on so disapprovingly from her place in the Doctor's launch.

Van Dusen was anxious to call first upon the Collector of the Port. That office here had become, of late years, rather unimportant, since the action of the tides had filled the Inlet with sand, to such an extent that very few vessels of the ocean-going steamer type could get over the bar. The Collector's business was confined to seeing that yachts and other vessels of small draft had their proper papers. There was no United States Marshal located in the town, and the case of _The Isabel_ was plainly one to be handled by the Treasury Department.

It was unnecessary for Ichabod to guide the detective further than the wharf, for the Custom House, with its identifying flag, stood near the landing. So, the Captain felt himself at liberty to visit the hotel, where he reclined at ease in a rocking chair on the porch, and enjoyed an intermittent conversation with the hostess of the inn. Roy remained on board the yacht, at his friend's bidding, in order to recover from the shock he had suffered on hearing Ichabod's story.

Van Dusen found the Collector anxious to be of service in every possible way. He suggested that the services of the Sheriff should be enlisted, and that a warrant for the arrest of Doctor Garnet should be secured from the Justice of the Peace, for robbery, to be sworn to by Ichabod, since that offense had been committed within the jurisdiction of the state courts.

The Sheriff, when called up over the telephone, agreed to supply three deputies, each equipped with a copy of the warrant. Finally, two small launches, each carrying one of the Sheriff's men, were chartered to voyage in different directions for the search, while the third would go aboard _The Hialdo_. Other business prevented the Sheriff from giving his personal aid in the quest. Ichabod was interrupted during his pleasuring on the porch by a telephone call, which requested him to report at once to Squire Chadwick's office in order to swear to the necessary papers.

But the fisherman forgot the imperative summons as his hostess came out on the porch to bid him farewell.

"Do ye realize, Sarah Porter, that this is the very fust time in over twenty year that I've come to your house except on business, without some fishes, terrapin, scallops, or sich to sell fer the hotel?"

Miss Porter blushed like a girl.

"Well, seein' as how you mention it, I reckon it's a fact." Her manner did not betray how often she had wondered, and perhaps grieved, over that fact during the score of years.

Then, Ichabod at last took heart of courage, and spoke boldly:

"This time, Sarah, arter due deliberation, an' study, Ichabod has come to ye to give something away. Tain't nothin' that comes out o' these waters or sands or marshes. Tain't gold, nor yit silver, but somethin'

that n.o.body in all these years could 'a' bought, had they tried. Could ye guess what it mout be, Sarah?"

There came a certain dreaminess into the woman's eyes, which, if a little dimmed, had by no means lost their l.u.s.ter.

"I never was good at guessing, Ichabod," she said simply. "I cal'late you'll jest have to tell me. I know from the way you speak that it must be something perfectly splendid."

"Wall, now, you may think it more wuthless than plain seaweed, an' if ye do, why ye must speak right out, Sarah. What I have come to offer ye is Ichabod Jones' love!"

Ichabod waited through a full minute for the answer that failed to come.

The woman's eyes were gazing out over the broad expanse of the Atlantic, which opened so gloriously before them. He took one of her hands in his, and pressed it gently as he went on speaking.

"It's true that I'm some old, but I ain't crippled. An' arter all these years o'--yes, oh, h.e.l.l!--I want to be loved ag'in. Sarah, I'll tell ye, an' it's G.o.d's truth, I never did love that triflin' woman. I have come to that idea arter a long time o' thinkin'. I was young, an' I thought I loved her, but, Sarah, I just had my haid turned. Time is now tellin' my true feelin's."

Still the woman made no answer, but her very silence gave encouragement to the wooer.

"I'm through with fishin' an' lonely livin', whether or no, Sarah. All these years that I've hung around alone, it hain't cost me much to live, an' I've got a right smart o' money saved up. Ye know, this hotel ain't big 'nough fer all the Yankees that'd like to stop on the way up an'

down offen their yachts. I was a-thinkin' las' night what a thing it'd be for me an' you to be real partners, an' let me spend some o' the savin's to double the size o' the hotel, an' hire 'nough help to take the strain offen you in runnin' o' it."

The mingling of romance and practical worldly advantage won Miss Porter's consent to the plea of her suitor. Perhaps, either would have sufficed of itself; certainly, together, they were irresistible. Ichabod was all a-tremble with happiness and pride, as the spinster coyly offered her cheek to his kiss.

He started guiltily a moment later, as a huge negress appeared in the doorway, and bawled at him:

"Mr. Ichabod, the 'phone is a-callin' yoh-all."

CHAPTER XIX

BOTTLED UP

Captain Ichabod Jones stepped briskly into Squire Chadwick's courtroom--which was otherwise the parlor in his modest home. Van Dusen, that very shrewd detective, observed that the old man trod with a jauntier step than heretofore, and that his expression was one of smug complacency. He wondered a little as to just what might have occurred to make this change so swiftly. He could not guess that a romance of twenty years was concerned, but his observant eyes told him that in some mysterious fashion this aged native had found a new happiness in life within the hour.

That happiness indeed was a thing a.s.sured in the opinion of Captain Ichabod. The smile that Van Dusen found so hard to interpret was the outward expression of great things within the old man's soul. He had loved his loneliness. Now, he was rejoicing that no more would his life be lonely! The gulls and fish-hawks and sand-crabs could take possession of the old shack that had sheltered him for years. He cared nothing for that. Shortly, he would be known as Ichabod Jones, proprietor of a fashionable tourist hotel. He chuckled, and his lips moved into the travesty of a kiss.

"I'm a-sayin' good-bye to that-thar hermit o' Captain Icky's Island, what lived thar fer twenty year. He hain't a-goin' to live thar no more."

The warrant was speedily signed and duly sworn to, after which Van Dusen and Captain Jones hurried to board the yacht. The two chartered motor boats arrived. Since _The Hialdo_ had the legs of the others, it took both in tow to bring them to the point whereat the search was to start.

On reaching the Island, the red skiff also was taken in tow at Ichabod's suggestion, since its draft would permit it to penetrate shallows impenetrable to the other craft.

At a point midway between Harker's Island and Smyrna, Uncle Ichabod directed that one of the chartered boats should be sent over and along the sh.o.r.es of the Island, then to proceed up the Banks sh.o.r.e, but not so far as to prevent the deputy from covering the southerly section of Core Sound with his field-gla.s.ses in order to detect any attempt to retrace the route by the Doctor in the tender. This launch having been dispatched, _The Hialdo_ resumed her course, with the other boats still in tow.

The next objective in the cruise was Atlantic--a long way up the Sound.

Thence, it was the intention to send the other chartered boat back along the westerly sh.o.r.e, with instructions to go into every inlet and cove and bay, no matter how small, provided they could navigate it, there to make diligent inquiry of every person seen on the sh.o.r.es.

Van Dusen had already prepared reward notices, offering five thousand dollars for the safe return of Ethel Marion, and one thousand dollars for the capture of her abductor. These posters were given to the deputies with instructions that they should be posted in every fishing hamlet. It was the belief of the detective that the effect of these would be to send out a swarm of fishing boats to search every nook and cranny of the territory.

Before turning in from the main channel to the pier at Atlantic, Van Dusen had the second patrol boat turned loose under the charge of his deputy. He gave instructions that four blasts of the yacht's siren should be understood as a signal for the smaller craft to return to _The Hialdo_.

It was learned beyond doubt at Atlantic that the Doctor and Ethel had been there. There were a score of witnesses to the fact. The entire hamlet was loud in its praises of this stranger, who, by his skill, had saved a life without thought of fee. Captain Ichabod's anxious inquiries elicited the information that there was indeed a Dominick rooster aboard the tender, perched on the forward deck. One boy, of a fine imaginative mind, declared that the bird was tethered by a string tied to one of his legs. That false information stirred the wrath of Uncle Icky, so that he was moved to mutter:

"Yep, I reckin they're a-savin' 'im fer broth--consarn 'em!"

At the princ.i.p.al store in the town, soon after the arrival of the yacht, there was a scene of unusual excitement. Conspicuously posted was the notice typewritten by Van Dusen of the reward for Doctor Garnet's capture. But here sentiment was overwhelmingly strong in the physician's favor. A local orator made an impa.s.sioned speech to defend this wonderful physician, who had shown such ability in saving of life without charge. He insisted that the townsfolk should throw out the "furriners" who desired the arrest of such a man.

Van Dusen was in a desperate hurry, but when he sensed the feeling of the crowd, he was at pains to tell them, very simply, the facts. He declared that, in all probability, the physician who had been guilty of the kidnapping was a crazy man.

After touching at Atlantic, it was decided to sail the yacht to the northward, along the mainland sh.o.r.e, with the little red skiff still in tow. There was more depth of water on this side and, in consequence, a larger number of inhabited points, from which news might be gathered. At the end, there was a lighthouse, where the keeper would have seen every boat that pa.s.sed.

The yacht stopped at the Squire Goodwin landing. There they learned of the recent presence of the physician and his patient. Thence, they went on to the lighthouse, where they were rea.s.sured by the keeper's firm a.s.sertion that the tender had not pa.s.sed. It seemed to Van Dusen now that the little boat must be bottled up, so that its discovery and capture could be only a matter of a few hours. But there still remained one tract to be explored.

For the voyaging over these shallows, the red skiff was needed. The three men entered it, cast off from the yacht, hoisted sail, and set forward toward the desolate land of the sand dunes, the wild ponies, the goats and the beach-combers.... And it was Captain Ichabod who sat in the stern, handling proudly both sheets and tiller.

CHAPTER XX