Sinister Island - Charles Wadsworth Camp (7 ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Charles Wadsworth Camp
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âWhat a cheerful time you must have had!â he said. âHow Molly would enjoy seeing this!â
The interior of the Dart was, in fact, unexpected after a glance at her graceless and battered hull. Its former owner had possessed taste and an acceptable definition of comfort.
The walls were painted an ivory tint which took its meaning from four soft-toned French prints. The lockers, running the length of either side, were covered with tapestry cushions. A folding mahogany table stood between them. Forward, a door opened into a tiny stateroom, decorated in the same cheerful fashion, and, opposite, beneath the companion ladder, a low sliding panel led to the kitchen and engine-room.
âYes,â Anderson sighed. âYouâve been comfortable here. Youâre lucky, Jim.â
He turned away.
âLucky and selfish. You ought to share your good things perpetually.â
Miller laughed.
âMaybe,â he said carelessly, âyou and Molly have found a more compelling incubus for me on Captainâs Island.â
Andersonâs shoulders shook. Miller looked at him, alarmed. But he was laughingâa little hysterically, still it was laughter.
âSince Iâm the point of the joke,â Miller said, âyou ought to let me in it.â
âI was only thinking,â Anderson answered, âthat Captainâs Island is a rare place to look for such a comfort as a wife ought to be.â
Miller plunged.
âAndy, Iâm waiting to hear about this island of yours, andâand that puzzling Letter. First, something to warm you upââ
He raised his voice.
âTony?â
Anderson glanced up.
âTony?â
âMy general boatworker.â
âGet him North?â
âNoâa native.â
Anderson watched rigidly while Tony thrust his bearded face through the kitchen doorway and took Millerâs orders.
âNow, Andy, sit down and raise the veil.â But Anderson still stared at the sliding door.
âThis man of yoursâTony!â
âDonât be afraid to talk. Iâd confide my most particular secrets to him.â
Anderson shook his head.
âI wouldnât trust these natives too far.â
Anger coloured his face and voice.
âThereâs one hanging around the island. Did you see his filthy tub as you came in?â
âNo. Good and bad the world over, Andy.â
âBe sure of him. You must be sure,â Anderson insisted with a vibrant earnestness.
âIt makes no difference,â Miller said. âThe door will be closed. Speak low and he wonât hear you. What kind of a mess are you and Molly in down here? Why didnât you bring Molly out with you?â
âAt this hour! Youâll understand if you stay. Itâs not pleasant on the island after dark. IâI hoped youâd get here earlier. Donât think Iâm fanciful, Jim.â
Tony entered and placed the tray on the table. Miller motioned to the cigars. Anderson reached out and drew his hand back absent-mindedly.
When Tony had returned to the kitchen and had closed the sliding door Miller lighted his own cigar.
âNow letâs have it,â he said.
Anderson leaned forward. His attitude was appealing. There was a definite appeal in his eye. It impressed Miller as tragic that such a strong, self-reliant man should assume this pitiful cloak.
Anderson found a beginning difficult. When at last he spoke his voice was low and there were uneven pauses between the words.
âI wanted to come right out and explain the situation,â he said. âThen, if you choose, you can pull out of here in the morning. Molly and I talked it over when your letter came. It seemed the only fair thing. But it means telling you in cold blood, and I swore to Molly I couldnât do that. I said youâd call me a superstitious idiot or suspect me of sun stroke. In either case youâll have to include Molly in your diagnosis, and you know how sensible she is.â
âYes, and how sensible youâve always been,â Miller said. âYou donât mean to say youâve let this lonely hole get on your nerves?â
âI pray thatâs what it is,â Anderson replied eagerly, ââjust nerves. Thatâs why we want to use youâas a sort of test. The truth is weâre under the spell of this place, and things are happeningâunnatural thingsâthings that we canât explain in any believable way.â
Miller tried to smile.
âSounds as though you were haunted.â
âAnd thatâs what it seems like. I didnât want to say it myself. It isnât pleasant to be laughed at even when the laugh is justified.â
For the second time that day Miller promised not to laugh at anything he might be told about Captainâs Island. He was conscious, indeed, of a sharp mental struggle before he had subordinated the impressions he had received himself coming through the Snake and into the inlet.
âI agree not to laugh,â he said, âbut you must understand in the beginning that I canât take any supernatural talk very seriously. I have no manner of belief in such rot.â
âAfter all, Jim,â Anderson answered, âthatâs the way I want you to talk. Itâs what we needâsomebody with a powerful will like yours and a contempt for the uncanny to straighten us out and bring us back to commonsense.â
âWhy the deuce have you stayed on if youâve been so unhappy?â Miller asked.
âBecause we canât yield to a superstition weâve never acknowledged. We canât go back to the world, convinced of such madness. Molly is more determined than I. Weâve sworn for our peace of mind the rest of our lives to stay on until every hope of a natural solution is gone. Youâre just about our last hope.â
âThis isnât like you,â Miller said. âFrankly, Andy, itâs folly.â
âOur only excuse for such folly,â Anderson answered warmly, âis that weâre not the only reasonable people to confess it. Thereâs Morgan who lives in the big house. You must have seen it when you came in. Heâs more your own sortâabsolutely balanced, with a strong will. Youâll like him, Jim. Heâs been our only prop. But little by little Iâve seen his confidence dwindle, and his uncertainty and worry grow. Then thereâs Bait, a federal judge in Martinsburg. He brought us down here in the first place.â
âThatâs how you found it?â
âYes. Bait was a friend of Mollyâs father. When we were going through Martinsburg on our way to Cuba in January he made us stay over for a few days. He has a fast cruising launch. He knew I was an artist, and he thought Iâd enjoy seeing this fascinating combination of jungle, water, and sand. It was a brilliant day, and we came down so fast the island seemed only a stepâa charmingly isolated suburb of Martinsburg. Jim, the place seemed to grasp me physically, and to demand, since chance had brought me, that I stay and put on canvas its beauty and the mystery that tantalised even at noon. I felt I had found the inspiration for a new note, for the building of a real reputation. And everything favoured the scheme. The coquina house would do. The fact that we would have neighbours in the plantation house settled Molly. We were enthusiastic and happy about it. Then Bait tried to discourage us. He let us see that even he was subject to thisâthis folly as you call it.â
Miller whistled.
âA judge, eh! He ought to get enough thatâs beyond the ken of man in his own courtroom. What did your judge say?â
âTo begin with he told us the amazing history of the island and old Noyer, its original owner.â
âThat at least has corroboration,â Miller said after Anderson had repeated the agentâs story.
âBut,â Anderson continued, âhe couldnât define any real objections beyond the islandâs isolation, its lack of convenient communication, andâof courseâwe take them so much for granted nowâthe snakes.â
âIâve heard theyâre the chief tenants,â Miller said. âThey might have been a sound objection to your settling here.â
âBut we hadnât seen any that day, and we laughed, thinking the judge was trying to stop up some of his other arguments that wouldnât hold water. And itâs true. Neither Molly nor I have seen a single snake, but theyâre there somehow or otherâalwaysâin the background. Itâs the feeling of the placeâa feeling of long, slimy snakes, stealthily gliding in a circle from the shadows with unsheathed tongues. Lately weâve feared they were growing daringâwere getting ready to strike.â
He took out his handkerchief and passed it across his face.
âAnd these other arguments?â Miller asked. âThe ones that the judge couldnât define, that wouldnât hold water?â
âOf course he couldnât convince us with his talk of native and negro superstition while the sun glinted on the inlet and bathed the scene of his atrocious yams.â
âAtrocious, you say, yet youââ
âThey must be,â Anderson said. âSitting here, face to face with you, I can say it. They must beâSuperstitions founded on Noyerâs revolting cruelty to his black merchandise, on his terrible fits of rage, on the Arab girl who was pampered and murdered in our house. Beyond question the island is avoided, and these stories, rather than the snakes, are responsible. The boy who brought your telegram from Sandport yesterday stumbled in at dusk, in tears. He refused to go back until daylightâlay awake half the night, crying out These beliefs made it necessary from the first for us to bring our own provisions from Sandportâto drive or walk the three miles to the river end of the island, signal for a boat, and row across.â
âPleasant!â Miller said. âWhat do the servants think of it?â
âServants! Havenât had one in the house for two months, except Jake. Same way with Morgan. Heâs managed to keep his man and a cook. Thatâs all.â
âOf course Jake would be faithful,â Miller said.
âYes, heâs faithful, but with a painful struggle. Sometimes I feel I have no right to make him stay here, loathing and fearing the place as he does.â
âAs you do, too, Andy,â Miller said softly. âTell me what has made you doubt the judgeâs yarns were atrocious. What kind of spooks am I to lay? What do you think youâve seen?â
âWeâve seen nothing. If one only could see! Itâs more subtle than that. It began the moment we moved down. We had found we couldnât get a native servant near the place so we sent North for Mary and Ellen. You know how attached they were to Molly, how long she had had them.â
âYes,â Miller replied, âbut ignorant womenâeasily scared by stories.â
âThey heard no stories,â Anderson said. âThere was no chance. We met them at the station in Martinsburg and started immediately on Baitâs launch which he had loaned us. He had taken our impedimenta down before, so everything was ready for us. Mary and Ellen were enthusiastic when we sailed into the inlet. They had never been South before. They were excited by the experience, and completely satisfied. But when we entered the house its damp, chill air repelled us.â
âIt would,â Miller said. âIâm told the entire island is a jungle. Such places donât get the sun, and, remember, your house had stood in that jungle, uninhabited, for decades.â
âYes,â Anderson agreed, âI ascribed a great deal to the climate at first, and maybe itâs that, butâafter awhile one wonders.â
âFirst, then, the girls became frightened!â
âI donât knowâat first. We all fell silent We started fires in every room, but it seemed as though no amount of warmth could cut that charnel house atmosphere. And the day went so quickly! Black night had trapped us before we had time to realise it. I looked at Molly.
ââIf the judge could peep in on us now,â I said, âthe laughing wouldnât be all on one side.â
âSo we smiled at each other and were more cheerful after that until dinner time. Then Mary, without warning, burst into tears.â
âHomesick in a strange house,â Miller suggested.
âWe couldnât find out what
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