Sinister Island - Charles Wadsworth Camp (7 ebook reader txt) š
- Author: Charles Wadsworth Camp
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āThey wouldnāt go upstairs until we did. We had given them each a room, but they said they preferred to share one. They hung back from saying good night to Molly. This all drove our minds from ourselves. We went to bed talking about it, wondering what the upshot would be.
āA wild scream awakened me in the middle of the night. In such a place it was doubly startling. Molly was already up. I threw on a bathrobe and we hurried to Mary and Ellen. Their light was burning. They lay in bed trembling and clinging to each other.
āThey wouldnāt talk at firstāwouldnāt or couldnāt. Finally we got it out of them. They had heard something dreadful happening in the next room. Some one, they swore, had been murdered there. They had heard everything, and Mary had screamed. Jim, I know it sounds absurd, but those girls who had never dreamed of the existence of old Noyer or his Arab woman, described in detail such sounds as might have cursed that house seventy or eighty years ago the night of that vicious and unpunished murder.
āWe tried to laugh them out of their fancy. We entered the next roomāa large, gloomy apartment on the front, probablyāif Baltās story is trueāthe room in which the woman died. Of course there was nothing there, but we couldnāt get Mary and Ellen to see for themselves. Nor would they stay upstairs. They dressed, and spent the rest of the night in the diningroom. And when we came down for breakfast they told us what we had feared,āthey wouldnāt spend another night in that house. They were ready even to pay their own fare home. They hated to leave Molly, they said, but they couldnāt help themselves. They were afraid. It was then that I sent for Jake. If Jake didnāt owe me so much, if he wasnāt so persistent in his gratitude and loyalty, he would have followed them long ago.ā
āNightmares! Nightmares!ā Miller scoffed.
āJim,ā Anderson said slowly, āsince then Molly and I have had the same nightmares.ā
Miller glanced up.
āPossibly imagination after the girlsā story.ā
āNo,ā Anderson answered with conviction. āWe have heardāwe still hearāsounds that are not imaginationāsounds that suggest a monstrous tragedy. And the worst of it is there is no normal explanationānone, none. Jim, Iāve tried everything to trace these sounds, to account for them. And theyāre not all. Aside from this recurrent experience the house isāis terrifying. It isnāt too strong a word. You remember all that stuff we used to laugh at in the reports of The Psychical Research Societyāfootsteps in empty rooms, doors opening and closing without explanation? Well, Molly and I donāt laugh at it nowābut we want to laugh. Jim, make us laugh again.ā
āOf course. Of course, Andy.ā
āAnd always at night,ā Anderson went on, āthereās that grewsome feeling of an intangible and appalling presence. In the dark halls and rooms you know it is there, behind you, but when you turn there is nothing.ā
He shuddered. He drank some water.
āIn an indefinite way the atmosphere of that house is the atmosphere of the entire island. I canāt explain that to you. Itās something one feels but canāt analyseāsomething you must know andāand loathe yourself before you can understand. As far as I can fix it, itās the feeling of the snakes, of which I spoke, and something besides. It holds a threat of death.ā
āAnd the snakes?ā Miller asked; āyou say they havenāt troubled yā?ā
āI said we had seen none.ā
Anderson paused.
āBut,ā he went on after a moment, āthe other day we found Mollyās big Persian cat in the thicket between the shore and the old slave quarters. It had been struck by a rattlesnake.ā
āToo inquisitive cat!ā Miller said. āYou know snakes donāt care about having their habits closely questioned by other animals.ā
Anderson shook his head.
āIf you had lived here the last two months as we have, you might feel as we do about itāthat itās a sort of warning. You know I said they were growing daring.ā
āAndy! Andy!ā Miller cried. āThis wonāt do.ā
āThatās what Morganās always saying,ā Anderson answered, ābut in his quiet way heās on tenterhooks himself. Heās resisting the impulse to go, too.ā
āHas he a wife?ā Miller asked.
āA daughter,ā Anderson said slowly.
āAny company for Molly?ā
Anderson turned away. He seemed reluctant to reply.
āNo,ā he said finally, ānot even for her father. Jim, I wish youād try to judge that girl for yourselfāif you can, if you see her. You canāt tell about her. Sheās queer, elusive, unnatural. She troubles Morgan. Of course itās a subject we canāt discuss very well.ā
āOff her head?ā
āJudge her for yourself, Jim, if you can. Frankly sheās beyond me.ā
āAnother puzzle! And thatās the entire population!ā
āMorganās two brothers from the North have visited him once or twice. They made it almost jolly. But they didnāt stay long. Donāt blame them.ā
āAnd thatās all!ā
āOn the island proper. Thereās that native of whom I spoke. One shrinks from him instinctively. Heās been hanging around ever since weāve been here, living in a flat-bottomed oyster boat, anchored near the shore. At night Iāve thought Iāve seen him crawling silently around the inlet in his filthy old tub.ā
āAt least he doesnāt seem superstitious.ā Miller put in drily.
āRather a figure to foster superstition. He seems to symbolise the whole thing.ā
āThatās a curious fancy. What has he to say for himself? Youāve been aboard his boat of course.ā
āScarcely. Morgan tried that once out of bravado. He found no one thereāno sign of life. Iāve attempted time after time to get a word with the man. Iāve hailed him from the shore. But he pays no attentionāeither isnāt to be seen at all, or else stands on his deck, gaunt and lean and hairy, etched against the sunset. You look at him until you hate him, until you fear him.ā
āI can try my own hand there,ā Miller said. āThen thatās the total of your neighbours?ā
āThereās a colony of oystermen working the marsh banks to the north of the island. They live in thickets. They have the appearance of savages. Bait said thereās a queer secret organisation among them.ā
Miller smoked in silence for some moments, while Anderson watched him with an air of suspense. Miller lowered his cigar and leaned forward.
āThis girl, Andy?ā
āItās hard to say anything more definite about her, and, if you stay, Iād rather you followed my wishes there. Judge her for yourself, Jim. Andāand are you going to stay and help us back to mental health?ā
āWhat do you think?ā Miller asked a little impatiently. āYou mustnāt grow too fanciful.ā
āIfās asking a great deal,ā Anderson said, ābecause, sane and strong-willed as you are, Jim, it isnāt impossible you should feel the taint yourself.ā
āIām not afraid of that,ā Miller laughed. āIāll stay, but not in your house at first. Iāll live on the boat here in the inlet where I can keep my eye on that fisherman of yours and get a broad view of the whole island and its mystery. Iāll hold myself a little aloof. You see it would be perfectly natural for you to row out and call on a stranger anchoring here and invading your loneliness; natural for you to bring Molly, say tomorrow; natural for me to return your call, and eventually to visit you at the coquina house over night and experience its dreadful thrills. Thatās the way weāll let it stand, if you please, for the present. Iām a total stranger.ā
āDo as you think best,ā Anderson agreed gratefully.
āThen thatās settled,ā Miller said. āNow how about dinner? Youāll stay?ā
Anderson arose.
āNo, Molly and Jake are waiting. I know theyāre worried, Jim. They wonāt have any peace until Iām safely back. These woodsāwe donāt like them even by day.ā
Miller smiled.
āIāll do my best to purify them of everything but snakes. I canāt promise about the snakes.ā
As he led the way up the ladder he heard Tony open the sliding door. Glancing back, he saw the native, fear in his face, waiting to follow.
āThere is something here that gets the natives,ā he whispered to Anderson. āGo home now and sleep, and tell Molly to sleep. Weāll straighten things out in no time.ā
āYouāll do it, if it can be done,ā Anderson said. āIf it can be doneāā
He grasped the painter and drew his boat forward against the resisting tide. Miller held the line while Anderson stepped in.
Anderson clearly shrank from the short journey back to the coquina house. A sense of discomfort swept Miller. He felt the necessity of strengthening his friend with something reassuring, with something even more definite than reassurance.
āAnd, Andy,ā he said, leaning over the rail. āif anything comes upāif you need me at any moment, send Jake, or, if there isnāt a chance for that, call from the shore or fire a gun three times. I should hear you.ā
āThanks, Jim. Iāll remember,ā Anderson answered.
He pushed his boat from the side of the Dart. The tide caught it and drew it into the black shadows even before he had seated himself and arranged the oars.
Miller remained leaning over the rail, straining his eyes to find the vanished boat. After a moment he tried to penetrate the darkness for a light, for some sign of that other boat, the boat of the fisherman. He could make out nothing. Yet it must lie somewhere over there, harbouring that grim, provocative figure to which Anderson attached such unnatural importance.
As he leaned there he felt troubled, uncertain. It had been a shock to see a man so, exceptionally sane as Anderson suddenly deprived of his healthy outlook on life and death, and struggling in this desperate fashion to regain it.
He told himself he had no slightest fear of the island or its lonely mysteries. That might after all be a satisfactory explanation:āthe loneliness, the climate, the clinging mass of native superstition, the brooding over the servantsā fancies, the consequent growth of sleeplessness, and, finally, when nerves were raw, this first reminder of the snakes. It was enough to work on the strongest minds.
Miller smiled at Andersonās fear that he might become a victim too. Yet the impression of unhealth the place had carried to him and which he had fought down before Anderson, had returned. He leaned there wondering.
He swung around at a sharp noise. Tony was at the anchor chain again.
āAfraid weāll drag?ā
The native pointed to the sky.
Only a few stars gleamed momentarily as heavy clouds scudded southward. For the first time Miller felt the stinging quality of the wind.
āItāll blow hard,ā he said. āWhat a night! Iām going below. Iāll be hungry by the time you have dinner ready.ā
He went down the companionway. The other followed him so closely he could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck.
Tony went in the kitchen and started to get dinner. Miller stretched himself on a locker. He arranged the cushions luxuriously behind his head. He took from the shelf a book which he had found fascinating only last night. He lighted his pipe. He tried to fancy himself supremely comfortable and cosy.
Tony came in after a few moments and commenced to set the table. Miller blew great clouds of smoke ceilingward.
āNot so bad down here, Tony!ā he said. āConfess, it couldnāt look a bit different if we were tied up at the dock in Martinsburg. Well?ā
He lowered his book. He glanced up. The pallor that had invaded the nativeās face at the command to anchor in Captainās Inlet had not retreated. The fear, too, that had burned
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