CHAPTER II An Unwilling Boatman

Madge was taken aback at the boatman’s unexpected announcement but she had no intention of being diverted from her original plan. His very reluctance only whetted her determination to hold him to his bargain.

“Keep the money,” she insisted. “You made the agreement and you must stand by it. Why do you object to taking me to the Burnett yacht?”

The man muttered something about “a bad omen” which she failed to understand.

“Come, don’t try to tell me there’s any silly superstition about that boat,” she declared impatiently. “Will you take me there or must I call the authorities?”

At mention of the police, the man grew even more agitated. He looked first toward The Flora and then at Madge. After a moment’s indecision, he picked up the oars and without a word, rowed away from the dock.

It struck Madge that she might be doing a foolish thing to trust herself to a strange boatman, particularly one who acted so queerly. However, she felt there was no real danger as long as they were within sight of other boats anchored in the bay.

Madge had never been one to forego an adventure for the sake of caution. Perhaps her life in the north woods had taught her resourcefulness and courage. At any rate, since the death of her mother and the strange disappearance of her father, she had learned to look out for herself. Since childhood she had made her home with her Uncle George and Aunt Maude Brady, and many pleasant summers had been spent at their fishing lodge on Loon Lake, Canada. There she had made friends with Anne Fairaday, an orphan living at Stewart Island. This acquaintance had plunged her into an exciting hunt for a hidden paper, the story of which is related in the first volume of the Madge Sterling series, entitled, “The Missing Formula.”

At Loon Lake she had met Jack French, a handsome young forest ranger, who, in taking leave of her on the eve of her trip to Cheltham Bay, had warned her that before the summer ended she might see him again.

Madge had been elated at the thought of spending a vacation aboard the Burnett yacht. Enid was the daughter of a noted sportsman and collector of antiques, and since the death of her mother had been permitted to grow up much as she pleased. Notwithstanding, she was a cheerful, friendly sort of girl, not in the least spoiled.

During the tedious trip across the bay, Madge had ample opportunity to study the face of her boatman. He avoided her glance, yet when she looked away, she could feel his eyes upon her.

“He must be a Hindu,” she thought uncomfortably. “At least, I’m sure he’s from India.”

Although the man was dressed in cheap, rough clothing, he did not appear to be a suitable type for the occupation he had chosen. His hands were not those of one who worked at hard labor. Madge noticed too that he wore an expensive looking jade pin, fastened over his breast.

“There’s something wrong with the picture,” she meditated. “He must have seen better days—or else he stole that pin!”

She wished anew that she was safely aboard The Flora. The yacht was still a considerable distance away, too far for her to see anyone on deck.

“Why doesn’t he row faster?” she asked herself impatiently. “We’ll never get there at this rate.”

At her suggestion to the effect, the boatman only stared uncomprehendingly until she gave up trying to make him understand.

“He knows what I want but he’s stubborn,” she decided. “What ails him anyway? I’m certainly paying him enough for his work.”

She longed to take over the oars and show him how to row a boat. Instead, she reconciled herself to a slow trip under the broiling noonday sun and tried to become interested in a small sailboat which was tacking in toward the harbor.

At length, they drew near The Flora, approaching from the port side. Madge scanned the railing for a glimpse of her friends. The decks appeared deserted.

“Where is everyone?” she asked in surprise.

The boatman rowed alongside of the yacht and she grasped a trailing rope.

“Hallo, aboard!” she called out.

There was no answer. “You see,” the boatman muttered. “No one aboard. We go back.”

“Not yet, we don’t,” Madge corrected. “There must be someone here.” She glanced at her wrist watch and saw that it was twelve-fifteen. “Probably everyone is eating luncheon in the cabin.”

She shouted again but as there was no reply, indicated to her boatman that she wanted him to row around the yacht until they came to a rope ladder which hung down over the side.

“Do you mind climbing up to see if anyone is aboard?” she asked.

The boatman rewarded her with another blank stare.

“He understands perfectly,” Madge thought irritably. “Oh, well, I see I either must argue until I’m black in the face or do it myself.”

Instructing the boatman to wait for her, she grasped the rope and began the ascent. The ladder weaved back and forth as the vessel rolled gently in the waves but Madge was not afraid of falling.

“I feel like a monkey in the zoo,” she chuckled. “Such a dignified way to arrive!”

She reached the deck and looked about. Everything was in order but there was no sign of activity. It struck her as peculiar that no sailors were on duty, although she knew that Mr. Burnett employed only a few men. Everything was strangely quiet.

“It begins to look as though I’m not expected,” she told herself. “Of course, Enid and her father may have gone to the station after I left. That would account for their absence. I hope I didn’t miss them.”

She wandered around to the opposite side of the yacht and paused before a door which led down into the dining salon. It was half ajar and as she opened it wider she saw that the salon was empty.

“Not a sign of the cook or anyone,” she reflected. “This is what I call an enthusiastic welcome! And I’m half starved too!”

Passing a stateroom, Madge thought she heard a slight sound from within. She knocked loudly upon the closed door. There was no response.

She turned away, only to pause and retrace her steps. A queer intuitive feeling had taken possession of her—a conviction that all was not as it should be aboard the yacht.

She hesitated before the door, scarcely knowing whether or not it was her business to investigate. Then with sudden decision, she grasped the knob and turned it.

The sight that greeted Madge’s eyes left her startled and dumbfounded.

“Oh,” she gasped. “What dreadful thing has happened?”