CHAPTER XII
THE LAST VOYAGE OF JOHANN HAPPS
There was a story, one which Billy had often heard Captain Saulsby tell, of a ship that had driven on the rocks outside the harbour of Appledore during one of the terrible winter tempests. No boat could hope to reach her, so gigantic were the seas, and the crew had clung in her rigging all night, waiting for the wind to fall and help to come. The fisherfolk of the village had gathered on the shore, had built fires to signal to the desperate sailors that friends were watching and ready to give aid, and had tended their beacons all night long, so that some spark of hope might still live in the hearts of the drowning men. When morning broke and the wind went down, they were all rescued, “seventeen men and the ship’s cat.”
Appledore saw a similar scene tonight, with the long red line of signal fires blazing the length of the beach, and with every man and woman toiling to keep them burning. Yet it was not to friends they were signalling this time, but foes; to a lurking, treacherous enemy whose one safety lay in secrecy and darkness, and who read the message of defiance and drew off silently into the night.
Hour after hour passed, the wind rose higher and higher, sweeping great clouds of smoke and sparks along the beach. The tide came in and the seas rose, until even the harbour became a circle of tossing waves and thundering breakers.
“They’ll not be trying to send any boats ashore now,” one of the fishermen said to Captain Saulsby. “I think Joe Happs is safe enough from any danger of their coming after him.”
The Captain nodded gravely as he sat there on the sand.
“I believe you can let the fires go out,” he said, “and you have surely done a good deed for Johann this night. He would thank you if he could, but it is pretty plain that just now he can’t. I wonder what he is going to do.”
The people went away homeward one by one, the fires burned down to heaps of blazing coals, the surf came roaring in, higher and higher as the wind and tide rose together, and the call of Appledore sounded deep and loud through all the growing tumult. Long ago Sally Shute had been dragged away to her bed, protesting loudly, but led by a determined mother. Johann Happs had wandered aimlessly off in the direction of his little house, so that only Billy and Captain Saulsby were left still sitting on the sand. The old man could not be persuaded to go home, nor would Billy leave him. After some time Johann reappeared again, coming silently out of the dark and seating himself beside them without a word. The three said very little for a time, as the Captain’s thoughts seemed to be busy with the past, Johann’s to be bent on the problem of his future, while Billy’s whirling wits were trying to cope with the present. Where was the yacht? What was she doing? Were German eyes still fixed upon their fires in the dark? Would morning bring some bigger adventure, or would it show an empty harbour and that victory was with the watchers of Appledore?
The night wore past, the blackness faded to grey, by slow, slow creeping hours the morning came. Captain Saulsby seemed to know just the moment when it was light enough for observation, for he pulled the glasses from his pocket, adjusted them, and looked long and earnestly out to sea. Then he handed them to Billy.