CHAPTER EIGHTEEN   A CALLER IN THE DARK

By the time Kitty was in sight of the hospital the storm had reached gale proportions, and even the inland, sheltered waterways were whipped into tumbling whitecaps.

“Shall I go straight to the unloading dock behind the hospital?” she asked.

“Against regulations. Nothing’s supposed to come ashore there but supplies.”

She was afraid Brad couldn’t walk to the hospital from any of the small landing docks farther east, but she decided he could wait in the boat while she went to their house for the car.

“It’ll probably be better to go ashore somewhere else anyhow,” she told him.

“Wish I didn’t have to go back to the hospital just now,” he said. “If it gets around that I was shot in the marshes, Lieutenant Cary will be sure to hear about it—may put a crimp in drawing a noose around the criminals’ necks.”

“Why didn’t I think of that before?” said Kitty. “I’ll take you to our house. Surely Dad will be back from town by the time we get there. He’ll know what’s best to do.”

“I hate to be so much bother, but that does seem the most sensible thing. You can phone Dr. Williams. He’s the closest friend I have among the doctors. He’ll take care of the wound and keep his mouth shut, too.”

“Sure. That’s just what we’ll do.”

“I don’t have to report for duty till Monday. Nobody will get curious about me till then.”

When Kitty turned the bend in the channel and rounded the point on which the hospital stood, she thought she had never faced such a howling gale. She glanced toward the island and saw that the hurricane flag was flying.

Brad ducked his head and clung to the seat. Kitty anchored herself to the wheel, and steered for the landing behind their cottage. Already lights were twinkling along shore, though enough twilight lingered for her to come in to the dock without too much uncertainty.

Never before had she attempted to make her moorings in such a choppy sea. The stormy wind had forced the rising tide up rapidly. She was glad of this for it would spare Brad a climb to the dock. She was afraid the force of the storm would pound the launch against the pilings, so she cut off their motor and with the remaining oar worked toward the lee side of the dock. It took all her skill to make any progress as she had to move straight into the teeth of the rushing wind that swept diagonally across the island. Brad was powerless to help her, for his one hand was needed to hold himself to the seat.

“Don’t try to help!” Kitty called to him, as he started to crawl forward. “I’ll make it. The least little strain will start that place bleeding again.”

In spite of her warning after Kitty got the boat close enough Brad seized their line and tossed it deftly over a hook on the dock. The rope creaked and the boat quivered at the sudden restriction.

“Can you make it up the ladder?” Kitty asked anxiously.

There were only three or four steps to climb, but even that would be a strain on Brad in his weakened condition.

“Maybe you’d better go ahead and give me a hand,” he was forced to admit. “Guess I’m no good.”

She hadn’t realized how weak he was until she tried to help him up that ladder. She had to pull him by his good arm every step of the way. When he reached the dock he collapsed at her feet. Desperately she glanced toward the village, hoping for help, but the storm had evidently driven everyone to shelter. A small boat battled the gale half way between them and the hospital, but the howling wind would drown her call for help.

She was afraid to leave him on the dock while she went for help. The gale might grow strong enough any minute to sweep him into the water. There was danger of opening the wound again if she tried to move him, but she had no choice. Carefully she lifted his head against her knees, locked her hands under his arms and dragged him down the dock to the shelter of a twisted oak that grew on the shell bank.

She was already wet from the mist and spray and now rain came in a sudden deluge. It mingled with the tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran the block and a half to her home. With a thankful prayer she saw that the lights were on. Jane, at least, must be there.

“Let me in!” she called, actually pounding the door with her fists.

Jane swung the door in almost at once. “Why, Miss Kitty, you looks like a scarecrow!”

“Is Dad here?”

“Yas’m. He sho is, an’ he just about on he haid cause you ain’t come home.”

Her father was pulling on his raincoat as he came out of his room.

“Why Kitty, what’s wrong? Why are you so late?”

“Dad, we couldn’t help it. Brad’s shot!”

“Shot?”

“From the marshes.”

“Where is he now?”

“I got him ashore here—but couldn’t bring him any farther.”

She Helped Him Across the Dock

“He’s not dead?”

“Oh, no! I mean I hope not. He must have fainted when I was helping him to the dock. He lost so much blood.”

“Which dock?”

“Ours—behind the house.”

“I’ll get the car. You’d better come, too, Jane. I don’t want Kitty to strain herself, helping me lift him.”

Billy was already in bed, so Mr. Carter closed the door softly. “He’ll be all right. We’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll drop you two off here before I take him on to the hospital.”

He hurried out to get the car and Kitty followed him saying, “But we don’t want to take him to the hospital. He doesn’t want them to know.”

“What are you talking about, my child? That’s the place for him.”

“Not under the circumstances, Dad.”

Kitty tumbled into the car beside him, and Jane got into the back, praying aloud excitedly. Mr. Carter started the motor and they raced out the drive.

“Please do as I say, Dad,” persisted Kitty. “Just this once, Dad. There’s no time to tell you everything, but we’ve learned things this afternoon that may put a stop to all this awful business.”

Mr. Carter made no reply for a moment, grimly intent upon his driving in the rain. Finally he said, “I’ve been a fool, Kitty, to let you go ahead and get into something like this.”

Kitty was too miserable over Brad to pay much attention to her father’s rebuke. “There, he’s under the oak yonder,” she directed, when they turned the corner and raced down the block.

They found Brad had recovered consciousness, and was sitting with his back propped against the tree trunk.

“So silly of me to check out,” he apologized when they approached him. “I figured you’d gone for the car.”

“Think you can get in?” asked Mr. Carter.

“Sure,” Brad tried to make light of his weakness.

But he was a dead weight on Mr. Carter as he helped him to his feet.

“Guess you’ve lost a lot of blood, old boy. Where did they hit you?”

“Just under my shoulder blade. Kitty bound it up, but I’d spilled plenty before she got a chance to do that.”

Kitty breathed easier when he was in the front seat beside her father. She and Jane sat in the back. Nothing more was said until Mr. Carter stopped the car in front of their house, instead of going into the drive.

“Jane, you get out and stay with Billy. Kitty, you can come on up to the hospital with us if you’d rather.”

There were tears in Kitty’s voice when she wailed, “But Dad, we don’t want them to know about this at the hospital!”

“This is no time to think of such things, Kitty. It’s quite evident Brad will need a blood transfusion. The hospital is the proper place for that.”

When Jane got out and her father drove on toward the hospital Kitty couldn’t keep the tears back. What a mess she had made of the whole business! If she had known Brad must go to the hospital it would have been so much easier to stop at the supply dock, regulations or no regulations. Now everybody at the hospital would know, anyhow, that he had been shot. How the talk would fly from mouth to mouth.

Even if Punaro wasn’t the guilty party he would learn about it. If he was really in league with Beeson he, in turn, would get the facts, and surmise that they had visited Terrapin Island again. In that event she feared for Uncle Mose’s safety. But after all, she thought finally, what did any of this matter compared with Brad’s welfare?

Her father had a stretcher brought down to take Brad to the emergency room. As Kitty followed into the hospital she said, “Dad, if Brad’s blood is type one I’ll be glad to give him blood for a transfusion.”

Her father turned and flashed her a smile. “Thanks, Kitten. But I think we have a generous supply of all types here. I’ll go on to the emergency room and see what his condition is.”

“Oh, Dad, I don’t think I can stand it if Brad dies. It’s all my fault. I was the one who suggested going out there today.”

“Stop blaming yourself, my child, for everything that goes wrong!”

He took a key from his pocket. “Here’s the key to my office. Wait up there where it’s quiet. I’ll come up later and tell you how Brad is—and I want to hear all about what happened.”

Kitty was glad he had thought of this, for her wet clothes and troubled face would certainly invite questions from any friends who might see her. She hurried out to the wing and up the steps to the second floor, instead of taking the elevator.

She had never been in the administrative wing at night when everyone was off duty. There was light in only one office as she went down the short hall on the upper floor. Strangely enough she felt more nervous there than she had in the lonely marshes before the shooting. She was tempted to turn back and go to Hazel’s room, but she knew that would invite questions and call for explanations, for which she was in no mood at the moment. In her father’s office she could be quiet to calm herself after so much excitement and strain.

She unlocked the door and touched the light button. She crossed to her father’s desk chair and sat down a moment. She felt she couldn’t live through this interval while waiting to hear about Brad. To divert her mind she reached for a book in a rack at the back of the desk. It proved to be a medical tome, whose language seemed dry as dust to her excited mind.

In the basket at the right of the desk were some addressed envelopes and a stack of orders that had been made up and signed by her father, but had not yet been mailed. Her eyes ran down the list of drugs and supplies that had been ordered.

While sitting there she suddenly shivered, and realized her clothes were wet through. Noticing one of her father’s coats hanging on a rack in the corner, she put it on, and went to the big armchair near the window. She took off her wet shoes and socks and tucked her feet under her woollen skirt until they were warm.

The chair faced the window and as she sat there she recalled that her father had pointed out the location of Mangrove Island from that very window. How long ago it seemed! She wondered if Punaro, or whoever had shot at them, was still out there.

Wind shook the window as it came howling in from the sea. The rain had stopped, however, and Kitty wondered if she could see anything across the marshes at night. She padded across the office on bare feet and switched off the light. While her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she sat on the window ledge peering out, wondering if the Nazi spies would dare come ashore in such a storm to pick up their loot. Would anyone be so foolhardy?

The night was impenetrably black under lowering clouds. She could see nothing except the glow at the Marine Base to the east, and a few house lights in the settlement around the hospital.

Then anxiety for Brad swept over her again. There was no use trying to think of anything else. Unhappily she sank back into the leather chair. She pulled her father’s coat closer about her, sat on her feet again and was soon comfortably warm. The wind came in from the sea like giant breakers rolling up a beach. It crashed against the big building, then there would be a momentary lull before the next gust came. To Kitty’s alarm, now that she paused to listen, each blast seemed worse than the one that had just struck. As soon as she heard from Brad they would go back to the cottage for Billy and Jane. She had been through too many storms on the Gulf coast to feel safe in a small house on a night like this.

Under the circumstances it didn’t seem possible she could have dozed, but Kitty came to herself with a start at the sound of a key in the door. Instantly she was on the alert. Her father had given her his key. If it were he, she thought, he would have rapped and called to her to let him in. Cautiously she crouched deeper in the leather chair.

As the door swung inward noiselessly she saw by the light from the hall a tall familiar form step into the room. He closed the door softly, then switching on a flash he moved quickly toward the desk. As the flashlight circled about the desk top for a moment it tilted so that reflected illumination struck the sneak’s face. Her surmise had been correct; it was Lieutenant Cary.

In the dark corner the terrified girl watched breathlessly. Her eyes were just above the chair back, as Cary examined the order blanks in the large basket on the desk. Apparently finding what he wanted, he took up the sheaf of papers and buttoned them under his coat.

Kitty was almost beside herself with terror. So it was really Cary who did the underhand business that got both the Chief Pharmacist’s Mates into trouble. She couldn’t let him get away with it. But what in the world could she do in her defenseless position?

Lieutenant Cary was almost at the door when, without any premeditation, Kitty found herself saying in the fiercest tone she could command, “Don’t move another step, Lieutenant Cary, or I’ll shoot!”

“Don’t Move or I’ll Shoot!”