The night had grown pitch dark when Alfred Thornton crossed the bay. He had engaged a fast-going sea launch for his use during the evening of their play, and as his boat rushed along through the sea, which was rapidly growing rougher, he debated in his mind as to whether he was acting wisely.
Alfred Thornton was not a high-minded youth. He was often dishonorable and unscrupulous in his dealings with men, but he thoroughly disliked the hateful task ahead of him. Yet he moved doggedly toward it. He must save his own and his father's reputation, perhaps his fortune! There was no reason for him to believe that Flora Harris would spare him unless he did what she had demanded. He had that evening seen how far the spirit of revenge could lead her.
While Alfred Thornton was on his way to the houseboat Tom Curtis lay awake on his camp cot thinking of Madge and of what he could do to disprove the cruel story that Flora Harris had told. Of course, it must be false. Yet the girl would hardly have dared to tell such a tale unless a grain of truth had been hidden in it somewhere. Poor Madge! Tom wondered how her proud, passionate spirit would bear up under the shadow of such a sorrow.
In the meantime Alfred Thornton brought his launch in to the shore. He landed about a mile below the houseboat. The "Merry Maid" was anchored near a point of land known as Wayside Point. Alfred left his shoes in his launch, walking up the beach in his stocking feet. He waded in the water the greater part of the time, so as not to leave the imprint of his feet in the sand. A storm was blowing in from the ocean. The singing sound of the wind came over the face of the waters. Alfred knew that the night was working with him. If he could accomplish his secret design without being discovered in the act, the houseboat party and their friends would believe that the houseboat had been torn from her moorings by the force of the September gale.
He reached the neighborhood of the boat without meeting any one. It was an ideal night for prowling along the beach. The "Merry Maid" lay quietly at anchor, although the waves were beginning to lash against her sides with more than their accustomed energy. The youth was guided toward her by the golden lights that shone through the yellow lamps outside her cabin.
There was absolute silence aboard the little boat; not a sight or a sound of any one stirring inside the cabin. Alfred Thornton pulled a large clasp knife from his pocket, then sawed savagely at the heavy rope that secured the anchor. It was the work of a moment to sever it. Next he pulled the divided ends into strands, hoping that the rope would look as though it had broken apart. There still remained the second rope that was twisted around the stake. Alfred crept cautiously out of the water up the little stretch of beach. This was his moment of danger. Any one looking through one of the cabin windows might see his dark figure. Yet Thornton hesitated. The wind was blowing strongly. Surely the pretty houseboat would not drift out into dangerous waters. Surely she would come aground a few miles further down the shore. The minutes were precious. Alfred Thornton quickly cut the second rope. Then, without glancing behind him to see the result of his deed, he ran with all speed to his own motor launch.
"I know I am late," Thornton muttered to Tom Curtis as he crept into the cot alongside of Tom's. "I had to take that Harris girl home. She kept me talking on her porch for ages. A storm was coming up and it was hard to get across the bay. I shall be glad when this foolishness is over and we break camp and get back home again."
When the ropes of the "Merry Maid" were cut she did not drift at once from the shore and in adventurous fashion, make use of her new freedom. The way outside was strange and uncertain. The "Merry Maid" had never traveled from a safe anchorage except when she was under escort and protection. Now she lingered, drifting uncertainly, but keeping close to the shore and moving very slowly.
Half an hour after midnight the tide changed. The water ran away from the shore. The wind rose to a shrieking gale. But the "Merry Maid" was not unstable. The bottom of the boat was flat, she was broad and roomy. She did not pitch and roll, as a lighter craft would have done; she simply moved quietly away from the shore, borne by the wind and the tide.