CHAPTER 23 HELP FROM NOAH

A long while later, Jard Wessler and his companion reentered the cabin where Penny and Louise were imprisoned. After removing the tape from the girls’ lips, and freeing them of their uncomfortable bonds, they went outside again.

“At least they’re not trying to torture us,” Louise said, close to tears. “Oh, Penny, your father believes we’ve gone home! Now we’ll never be found.”

“Not in time to save the bridge, that’s certain,” her chum agreed gloomily.

Getting up from the floor, Penny groped her way to the covered porthole. She stumbled against a box and there was a loud tinkle of glass.

“Noah’s bottles!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “Where do you suppose the old fellow has taken himself?”

“Maybe the sheriff got him.”

“I doubt it,” returned Penny. “He probably just went off somewhere.”

After testing the cabin door, she sat down again beside Louise. The girls did not sleep but they fell into a drowsy, half-stupefied state. Then suddenly they were aroused by the sound of low voices just outside the porthole.

“It’s an old man coming,” they heard Wessler mutter. “Must be Noah.”

“What’ll we do with him?” the other demanded.

“Wait and see how he acts,” Wessler advised. “He’s such a simple old coot he may not suspect anything. If he makes trouble we’ll have to lock him up.”

A silence ensued and then the girls heard heavy footsteps on the gangplank.

“Ho, and who has visited my ark while I’ve been away?” muttered Old Noah.

Wessler and his companion, Breneham, stepped from the shadows.

“Good evening, Noah,” the waiter greeted him politely. “Looks like rain, doesn’t it?”

The remark concerning the weather was all that was needed to dull the old man’s perceptions. Forgetting that the ark had been invaded by strangers during his absence, he lowered an armload of groceries to the railing, and peered intently up at the sky.

“No man knoweth the hour, but when the thunder of the Lord strikes, the rain will descend. All creatures of the earth shall perish—yes, all except those who seek refuge here. Therefore, my sons, you do well to seek the shelter of my ark.”

“The old fellow’s sure raving,” Wessler remarked to his companion.

“A raven?” inquired Noah, misunderstanding. “Ah, yes! For one hundred and fifty days the waters will prevail upon the earth. Then will I send forth a raven or a dove to search for a sprig of green. And if the bird returns with such a token, then shall I know that the waters are receding, no more to destroy all flesh.”

“Toddle on, old man,” Wessler said, growing irritated. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

“My burdens are heavy,” Noah replied with a deep sigh. “All day I have labored, seeking food for my animals. Greens I cut for Bessie, my cow, and at the grocery store I bought seed for the birds, crackers—”

“Never mind,” Wessler interrupted. “Go into your quarters and stay there.”

“Bessie, the cow, must be fed.”

“Then go feed her,” Wessler snapped. “Just get out of my sight.”

The girls could not hear what Old Noah said in reply. However, a medley of animal sounds beneath the deck, led them to believe that the master of the ark had gone into the lower part of the ship to care for his animals.

“I wish he’d come here,” said Penny. “Maybe we could get the idea over to him that we’re being held prisoners.”

“Not a chance of it.”

“Those men evidently intend to allow him the run of the ark so long as he suspects nothing,” Penny mused. “Say, I know how we might bring him here!”

“How?”

“By stirring up the birds. Then Old Noah would get excited and try to break in.”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“Probably nothing,” Penny admitted, sighing. “Wessler is armed. Noah couldn’t overpower two men, even if he were inclined to do it.”

“All Noah thinks about is the coming flood. With another rain in the offing, he’ll confine his worries to how he can attract more people to his ark.”

“Lou! Maybe that’s an idea!”

“What is?” Louise inquired blankly.

“Why, perhaps we can bring help by means of Old Noah and his message bottles!”

“Perhaps you know what you mean, but I am sure I don’t!”

“Do you have a pen or a pencil with you, Lou?”

“I might have a pencil.” Louise searched in the pockets of her jacket, and finally brought forth a stub with a broken lead.

“We can fix that so it will write,” Penny declared, chewing away the wood.

“I still don’t understand what you have in mind.”

“This is my idea,” Penny explained. “You know that whenever it rains Old Noah starts tossing message bottles into the river.”

“True.”

Penny groped her way across the room to the box which stood by the porthole. “Well, here are the bottles,” she said triumphantly. “What’s to prevent us from writing our own messages? We’ll explain that we are held prisoners here and appeal for help.”

“How do you propose to get the bottles overboard?”

“I’ll think of a scheme.”

“Even if the bottles did reach the water, one never would be picked up in time to do any good,” Louise argued. “It’s a bum idea, Penny.”

“I guess it isn’t so hot,” Penny acknowledged ruefully. “Anyway, why not try it just to keep occupied? It’s deadly sitting here and brooding.”

“All right,” Louise agreed.

The girls removed corks from several bottles and by means of a bent hairpin, removed the papers already inside them. Although they had no light, Penny and Louise scribbled at least a dozen messages. Carefully they recorked every bottle, replacing it in the box.

“I’m going to put my cameo pin inside this one,” Penny said, unfastening a cherished ornament from her dress. “Someone might see it and open the bottle.”

“We’ll likely hear from it about next Christmas,” her chum responded.

Becoming weary of writing messages, Penny decided to stir up a bit of action. Moving from box to box, she aroused the sleeping birds. Her final act was to jerk the covering from Polly’s cage and playfully pluck the tail feathers of the startled creature.

“Noah! Noah!” the parrot croaked. “Heave out the anchor! Help! Help!”

“Keep it up, Polly,” Penny encouraged, rocking the cage.

The parrot squawked in righteous rage and the other birds chirped excitedly. In the midst of the commotion, a heavy step was heard on deck. Noah, finding the door to the bird room locked, shook it violently.

“Unbolt this door!” he shouted. “Unlock it, I say, or I will break it down!” And he banged with his fists against the flimsy panel.

“What’s coming off here?” demanded another voice, that of Wessler. “Have you gone completely crazy?”

“I want to know why this door is locked!” Noah said wrathfully. “Unlock it or I will break it down!”

Completely aroused, the old man backed away as if to make a running attack. Wessler drew his revolver, but Noah paid not the slightest heed.

“Let me get at my birds!” he cried. “Stand back!”

“Better humor him,” Breneham said uneasily. “Unless you do, he’ll arouse the countryside.”

Wessler returned the revolver to its holster beneath his coat. “Calm down, Grandpa, calm down,” he tried to soothe the old man. “No one is going to hurt your precious birds.”

“Then open that door!”

“Go ahead,” Wessler directed his companion. “If he makes any more trouble we’ll lock him in with the girls.”

“There are no doors on this ark strong enough to hold me,” said Noah. “Open it I say!”

The command was obeyed. The old man stumbled across the threshold and began to murmur soothing words to the birds. At first he did not see Penny and Louise. Finally observing them, he spoke rather absently:

“Good evening, my daughters. I am happy that you have come again to my ark, but I am afraid you have disturbed my birds.”

Penny chose her words carefully for Wessler and his pal stood in the cabin doorway.

“The birds do seem excited for some reason. No doubt they’re alarmed by the approaching storm.”

“Yes, yes, that may be it,” Old Noah murmured. “And the porthole is covered. That should not be. I will fix it.”

Pushing past the two men, Old Noah went outside the cabin to jerk away the canvas covering. He came back in a moment, bearing a sack of bird seed.

“Upstairs!” Wessler tersely ordered the girls.

In crossing the room, Penny deliberately stumbled against the box of blue corked bottles.

“With another storm coming up, I suppose you’ll be throwing out more of your messages,” she said jokingly to Noah.

Penny had hoped that the suggestion might presently cause the old man to dump the contents of the box into the water. She neither expected nor desired that he would attempt the task in the presence of the two saboteurs. However, Old Noah immediately dropped the sack of bird seed and strode over to the box of bottles.

“Yes, yes, I have been neglectful of my duty,” he murmured. “With the Great Flood coming, I must warn the good people of Riverview. I shall bid them seek refuge here before their doom is sealed.”

Old Noah selected a half dozen bottles and started to heave them through the porthole. Before he could do so, Wessler blocked the opening.

“Just a minute, Grandpa,” he said. “What’s in those bottles?”

“Messages which I wrote with my own hand,” Old Noah replied earnestly. “Would you like to read them, my son?”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” said Wessler.

With a suspicious glance directed at Penny and Louise, he reached into the box and selected one of the corked bottles.