Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid

by Amy D. V. Chalmers

Madge was in no mood for laughter. "You needn't make fun of me, Phyllis Alden," she said reproachfully. "You are just as tattered and torn as I. We do look like a couple of beggars. Your hair is not down, but your collar is crumpled and your dress is almost as soiled as mine."

"I look much worse than you do, Madge, I am sure of it," conceded Phil cheerfully. "You see, I am not pretty to begin with." To this speech Madge would not deign to reply. Phyllis laughed good-humoredly. "Loyal little Madge, you won't acknowledge my lack of fatal beauty." Then in a graver tone she added, "What do you think we had better do, Madge?"

"Find out where we are and how far away the 'Merry Maid' is," returned Madge decisively. "We must reach there to-night, Phil. Miss Jenny Ann and the girls will believe something dreadful has happened to us."

The chums had walked to the end of the pier. Between them and the nearest house lay a stretch of treacherous marsh. They paused irresolutely, staring at the marsh with anxious eyes. "I am afraid we shall get lost in the marsh if we try to find our way through it on a dark night like this," faltered Phyllis.

Madge shook her head determinedly. "We must try to pass through it. I don't like the looks of it any better than you do, but we can't stay here all night, that is certain. Come on. Here goes."

Phyllis obediently followed her companion into the marsh, and then began a never-to-be-forgotten walk. With each step they took the salt water oozed up from the ground and covered their shoes. Madge felt her way carefully. She was obliged to put one foot cautiously forth to see if the earth ahead were firm enough to bear the weight of her body. On she went, with Phyllis close behind her. In spite of the difficulty the girls were plainly making headway. "Hurrah!" called Madge, "we are almost out of this quagmire. There is dry land ahead!" With one long leap she made the solid ground which stretched just ahead of her. Phyllis was not so fortunate. She lunged blindly after Madge, struck an unusually bad part of the marsh and sank knee deep in the soft mud. With a terrified cry she began struggling to free herself, but the harder she struggled the deeper she became imbedded in the marsh.

The moon was just coming up. Madge could faintly see what had happened to her friend. She ran toward Phyllis, but the latter cried out warningly: "Go back. If you try to help me, you'll only sink into this marsh with me."

Madge hesitated only a minute. "Don't move, Phil, if you can possibly help it," she cried. "But in a few minutes from now call out, so that I can tell where you are. Good-bye for a little while; I am going for help." Madge never knew how she covered the space that lay between her and the nearest house. This house had a low stone wall around it, and stood on top of a steep hill that sloped down to this wall. Madge scrambled over the wall and climbed the hill, sometimes on her feet, but as often on her hands and knees. There was a light in a window. She staggered to it and rapped on the window pane. A moment later a man appeared in a doorway at the right of the window.

"Who's there?" he called out sharply. "What do you mean by knocking on my window? Answer me at once!"

Madge stumbled over to him. "Oh, won't you please come with me?" she said. "My friend Phyllis is stuck fast in the marsh. I must have help to get her out."