CHAPTER XI
HOW CAME PAUL TASSH ON SEAL ISLAND?
Steadying himself on the rope, Atherton stood on the brink of the ledge and watched for the reappearance of the submerged man. The buoy was floating, but for quite a quarter of a minute its late occupant was nowhere to be seen. When at length he rose to the surface, the buoy had drifted ten yards to leeward of him.
Fortunately the seaman was a swimmer, and without hesitation he struck out for the buoy.
"Haul in!" ordered Atherton, as the man grasped the life-saving object, and passed it over his head and shoulders.
Promptly the "Otters" obeyed, till the Leader ordered them to stop. Another wave was breaking, and should the man be caught close to the cliffs he would assuredly be dashed to death against the rocks.
Down came the mountain of water, but instead of carrying the seaman with it, it passed harmlessly by, expending its energy in a blow that raised a column of spray forty feet in the air.
"Now, haul!" bawled Atherton, and to his relief he saw the man drawn clear of the turmoil of foam and unceremoniously dragged upon the ledge.
"Signal to them to send another line ashore," ordered the Leader; but in reply the despairing message came from the wreck, "We have no more rope."
"Could I swim off to the ship?" asked Green. "I'll risk it."
"Impossible," replied Atherton. "It is hopeless to attempt to swim against such a sea."
"What is to be done?" asked Phillips. "We cannot stand here and let those fellows drown before our eyes."
Atherton shook his head. All that was humanly possible for them to do had been done. He knew that it was not the first time by any means that men had been drowned in full view of their would-be rescuers.
"Forepeak's full o' water," announced the last of the saved crew. "That's where there's many a coil o' rope."
"Couldn't they dive for it or fish it up with a boathook?" asked Atherton.
"Maybe they haven't thought o' that, sir," was the reply.
"Tell them to make another attempt to find a rope," ordered Atherton. "Failing that, their only chance is to jump overboard and trust that they lay hold of the ropes we lower to them."
But before Phillips could send the signal, Tom Mayne gave vent to a loud shout.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing seaward. "The lifeboat!"
The Scout was right. Riding lightly over the mountainous seas was the red-white-and-blue painted lifeboat from Gwyll Cove. Under sail she stood down till within a cable's length of the wreck. To approach closer under sail or oars would be fatal, for the heavy seas would carry the craft upon the jagged rocks.
Breathlessly the Scouts watched the completion of their work of rescue. Anchoring well to windward of the wreck the lifeboat men veered out fathom after fathom of stout cable, till the craft drifted to within twenty yards of the fast-disappearing wreck.
From this distance it was a fairly easy matter to heave a loaded cane, to which was attached a line, across the steamer's deck, and in a very short time means of communication were established between the lifeboat and the doomed vessel.
One by one the three remaining seamen were dragged into safety; the lifeboat hauled out, buoyed and slipped her cable, and hoisted sail. Washed again and again as she pounded against the heavy seas, she beat up for Gwyll Cove, her errand of mercy completed.
"Come on, lads," said Atherton. "We must be getting back to camp."
Two by two the "Otters" were hoisted to the top of the cliffs, whither the last of the men rescued by the Scouts had preceded them. Breaking into a run, for their work and subsequent wait in the salt-laden atmosphere had chilled them to the bone, the lads made their way towards their temporary home.
Presently Phillips overtook his Leader.
"Don't stop," he panted. "Wait till I fall back a bit and then look at the left side of the ruins. There's some one watching us."
Atherton followed this advice. Standing close to the ruined chapelry, and clearly defined against the skyline, was a figure that the lad recognised as Paul Tassh, the butler at Polkerwyck House.
"How on earth did the fellow get to the Island?" thought the Leader. "It has been much too rough since yesterday evening for a boat to put across."
When he again glanced in the direction of the ruins, Tassh was no longer to be seen.
On first thoughts Atherton felt inclined to get both patrols to surround the man, for the Scout felt now perfectly convinced that he was the mysterious visitor to the Tea Caves. But, after all, Sir Silas Gwinnear's butler had as much, if not more, right to be on Seal Island than they had. The man's presence was certainly suspicious, but until he was actually detected in an act that would justify the Scouts taking strong measures, Atherton felt it advisable to lie low but at the same time keep his eyes and ears open.
The Tenderfoots had done their task right well, for upon arriving at the camp the other Scouts found that not only had the rescued men been provided with hot coffee and food but there was a liberal supply for the lads who had toiled so hard in their act of rescue.
The shipwrecked mariners were almost too overjoyed to thank their youthful rescuers. For a long time they could only pat the Scouts on the back and utter short, disjointed sentences of mingled admiration and thanks.
At last Atherton managed to learn the details of the disaster.
The wrecked vessel was the ss. Polybus, of Cardiff, homeward bound from Bilboa with a cargo of copper ore. In the fog she lost her bearings, and when the storm piped up and dispersed the mist she mistook the lighthouse on Beware Head for one farther down the coast. A blinding rain-squall shut out the loom of the shore, and ere it passed away the Polybus ran hard and fast aground on the ledges to the south-west of Seal Island.
"Who is the owner of the ship!" asked Atherton, who was jotting down the particulars in his note-book.
"Blest if I can tell you, sir," replied the seaman, who acted as spokesman. "Can any of you, mates?"
"Not I. S'long as I gets my dibs paid every month 'taint no business o' mine to know who the owners be."
The others replied in a similar strain, and for the time being Atherton was compelled to leave the answer to this question a blank.
"There's no getting across to the mainland to-day," said Atherton. "It has left off raining and we may have a chance of drying some of our clothes. You men will have to stay with us till the sea moderates sufficiently for us to put you ashore at Polkerwyck. We can let you have the use of a tent, and there's food enough to last us all for some days."
Although it was now fine, and there were occasional bursts of sunshine between the masses of swiftly driving clouds, the wind howled as loudly as ever. Nevertheless the Scouts were able to start a large fire, in front of which they and their involuntary guests dried their clothes.
Atherton's mind was fairly centred on the appearance of Tassh on the Island, and while the others were occupied he crossed over to where Phillips was standing with a pile of dried clothing under his arm.
"I say," he remarked. "Did you notice where the man went to? Did he go into the ruins?"
"No, he walked towards the shaft leading to Dollar Cove," replied the Second of the "Otters." "Baker spotted him and waved his staff and that made the man disappear sharp enough."
"Baker was a bit of a donkey to attract attention like that," said Atherton. "But I mean to find out——"
"Atherton, there's a man coming this way," announced Tenderfoot Sayers.
The Leader looked up. Approaching the camp was Paul Tassh.
The butler walked with short, jerky steps. His right shoulder was slightly higher than the other. His face showed that he was badly in need of a shave, for the lower part beneath his side whiskers was covered with a thick stubble.
"Good-morning, young gentlemen," he exclaimed, with a forced air of jauntiness.
"Good-morning," replied Atherton politely, as was his wont, although he distrusted the man.
"If I may be so bold as to ask, sir," continued the butler, "I should like a snack of something to eat. I've had nothing since yesterday morning."
"I think we can manage that all right," said Atherton. "What has happened to you, then?"
"Oh, I might just as well explain," said the man between the mouthfuls of bread and cold meat that the Scouts gave him. "My name is Todd—John Brazenose Todd. I am a stranger in these parts, having been staying in a cottage just outside Polkerwyck. Yesterday morning I thought I would like to visit the Island, so I hired a boat and landed. Before I could return the fog came on, and afterwards the terrible storm. Being of a retiring disposition I did not like to intrude, so I kept away from your camp and took refuge in yon ruins. But a man cannot fail to be hungry on two or three biscuits in twenty-four hours."
Atherton nodded. He knew, as did his fellow Scouts, that the fellow's story was a tissue of lies from beginning to end, and he wondered at his audacity when he could not have failed to notice the Scouts passing the post-office at noon on the preceding day. Atherton's only fear was that some of the Scouts might feel inclined to "chip in and give the show away"; but to his relief the lads left all the talking on their side to their Leader.
"There's not much to see on the Island," he remarked. "I suppose you know there was a wreck, and those men over there are some of the crew?"
"A wreck? 'Pon my word I didn't," replied Tassh. "Truth to tell I must have been sound asleep in the ruin. Never heard a sound. When was it?"
"At daybreak this morning," announced Atherton. "You must have been sound asleep if you failed to hear guns."
Paul Tassh finished his meal in silence, furtively eyeing the Scouts with a supercilious smile on his thin, bloodless lips.
"They're too jolly well taken up with fooling about to trouble me," he soliloquised. "All the same they are a confounded nuisance on the Island. Still, since my retreat is cut off, the only thing to be done is to put up with them. A fine yarn I'll have to pitch up when I get back to the House."
Meanwhile Phillips and Simpson had been busily engaged in signalling the names of the rescued men to the coastguard station at Refuge Point, and a request that a boat should be sent, if possible, to take the men off the Island.
To this the chief officer of coastguards replied:
"Well done, Scouts. We will put off as soon as the weather moderates. There is still too much sea running in Seal Bay."
It was not until five o'clock that afternoon that a temporary lull occurred, and with the utmost promptitude boats were launched from Polkerwyck besides one from the coastguard station.
"There be a telegraf for you, sir," announced Peter Varco, who was the first to land on the Island.
Atherton took the envelope. The message was brief and to the point: "Scoutmaster Buckley arrives Wadebridge Station 8.15 P.M. Send Scouts to meet him. Hope all well, Trematon."
"Everest and Baker," explained their Leader, "our temporary Scoutmaster, Mr Buckley, is coming by the 8.15 train. Mr Trematon has wired the information, and has asked me to send some Scouts to meet Mr Buckley. So get some one to put you across, proceed to Wadebridge as quickly as you can, and wait there till the Scoutmaster arrives. Hulloa! Where's that fellow, Tassh?"
Mr Tassh, alias Todd, was nowhere to be seen. Unnoticed in the excitement of the arrival of the boats, he had slipped off to the landing-place. There he told a portion of his plausible tale to old Roger Tregaskis. He knew that it would be hopeless to stick to the name of Todd, since he was well known to the inhabitants of Polkerwyck, but the yarn of how he had been cut of by the fog went down well enough, and old Tregaskis was profuse in his sympathetic expressions, and promptly offered to row Mr Tassh across to the mainland in order that he might keep an important engagement at Polkerwyck House.
"Good on you, lads!" exclaimed the chief officer of coastguards. "And without a rocket apparatus, too. Well, you did the lifeboat men nearly in the eye, this time."
"I don't know about that, sir," replied Atherton. "You see, we couldn't get the last three men off the wreck, and if the lifeboat hadn't turned up in the nick of time they would have been lost."
"All the same you were jolly plucky. I am proud to meet you, lads. Don't forget, if you've time to give us a look up at the station, we'll do our best to let you have a right good time."
"Thank you, sir," replied Atherton. "We will be very pleased to visit your station. We went to the lighthouse yesterday, and fully intended to ask whether we might visit the coastguard at Refuge Point some time next week."
"And by the by," said the coastguard officer at parting, "I suppose you know that any cargo or gear that comes ashore is to be handed over to the custody of the Receiver of Wrecks? I was going to leave a couple of hands to keep a look-out, but I guess you're quite capable and willing to do that part of the business. If you should see anyone tampering with the wreck after the gale moderates, just signal to us, and we'll stop their little game."
"Very good, sir," replied Atherton then, as the weird noises that had so puzzled the Scouts during their all-night vigil commenced again, he asked, "What is that sound, sir?"
"A bit of a startler when you're not used to it, eh? That is the noise made by the blowing-holes on the south-west side of the Island. In rough weather, and at certain states of the tide, the waves force confined air through several small fissures in the hollows of the rocks. It's well worth seeing."
The various boats returned to the mainland with the rescued men, Everest and Baker having been given a passage in Peter Varco's craft, and once more Seal Island was untenanted save by the Scouts, the rabbits, and the countless seabirds.
"Thank goodness we've a chance to have a good sleep," ejaculated Simpson, with a sigh of utter weariness. "All the same I should like to know how came Paul Tassh on Seal Island."