CHAPTER XV. A GLOOMY SWAMP
The girls were as eager as the boy to view the old ruin from the water,and the breeze being brisk, they were quickly blown down the coast andinto the quiet sheltered water beyond the point. "O, Gib," Dories criedfearfully, "do be careful! There are logs under the water along here thatcome nearly to the top. Is it a wreck?"
"No, 'taint. It's all that's left of the long dock I was tellin' yo'about whar the Phantom Yacht used to tie up. Pa said ol' Colonel Wadburyhad lights clear to the end of it and that, when 'twas lit up, 'twas apurty sight."
"It must have been," Nann agreed. Then Dories inquired: "Doesn't it makeyou feel strange to realize that you are on the very spot where thePhantom Yacht once sailed?"
"And where some day it may sail again," Nann completed.
The high rocky point cut off the wind and so Gib let the sail flap asthey slowly drifted toward the swamp.
"Thar's all that's left of that sea wall I was tellin' about," the boynodded at huge rocks half sunken in mire.
"The reeds are higher than our heads," Dories commented; then she asked,"Is there a path through the marsh, do you think, Gib?"
"No, I'm _sure_ thar ain't one," the boy declared. "Me'n Dick Burtonwould have found it if thar had been. We've looked times enough from theland side. We never could get here by water, bein' as we didn't have aboat. That's why I've been savin' to get a punt. Dick, he put in sometoward it, an' so its half his'n."
"Who is Dick Burton?" Nann inquired.
"Didn't I tell you?" Gib seemed surprised. "Sort o' thought o' course youknew 'bout the Burtons. Dick's folks own the cabin that's nearest therocks. He's a city feller 'bout my age, or a leetle older, I reckon. He'sbeen comin' to these parts ever since we was shavers. You'd ought to knowhim," this to Nann, "he lives in Boston, whar you come from."
The girl addressed laughed good-naturedly. "Gib," she queried, "have youever been up to Boston?"
The boy reluctantly confessed that he had not. Then the girl explainedthat since it was much larger than Siquaw Center, two people might livethere forever and not become acquainted.
"Yeah." Gib had evidently not been listening to the last part of Nann'sremark. "I do wish Dick was here now that we've got the punt," he said."I sure sartin wish he was."
"Why?" Dories inquired as she let one hand drift in the cool water.
"Wall, me'n he allays thought maybe thar was a channel through the swampup toward the old ruin. If he was here we'd set out to find it."
"But why can't Dori and I help you as much as he could?" Nann queried. "Ibelieve you are right, Gib," she continued before the boy had time toreply. "I've seen swamps before, and there was always a narrow channelthrough them where the tide washed when it was high. See ahead there,where the swamp comes down to the water's edge, I wish you'd take thesail down, Gib, and row as close to it as you can."
The boy looked his amazement.
"But, I say, Miss Nann, like's not we'd hit a snag, like's not we would."
"Who's skeered now?" the girl taunted. The boy flushed. "Not me!" heprotested, and taking down the sail he rowed along the water side of thedense reedy growths. "Yo' see thar's nothin'," he began when Nann,leaning forward, pointed as she cried excitedly, "There it is! There's anopening in the swamp leading right up to that haunted house."
Nann was right. A narrow channel of clear water appeared among the reedsthat were higher than their heads. It led toward the middle of the marshand was wide enough for a larger boat than theirs to pass through.
"Now, the next question is, do we dare go in?" Nann was gleeful over herfind and how she wished that Gib's friend, Dick Burton, were there toshare with them that exciting moment.
"Well, that question is easy to answer," Dories hastened to say. "We mostcertainly do not dare."
The boy, having removed his nondescript cap, was scratching his ear in away that he always did when puzzled. Then there was a sudden eager lightin his red-brown eyes. Replacing his hat, he seized the oars and began torow rapidly back up the shore and toward the row of eight cottages.
Nann was puzzled and voiced her curiosity. "Got to get back to Siquaw intime for the ten-ten train," was all the information she received.
Since he had said nothing of this when they started out, and had seemedto be in no hurry whatever, Nann naturally wondered about it.
Some light might have been thrown on his action had she seen him, onehour later, as he sat on the high stool at his father's desk in thegeneral store. He was painstakingly writing, and, when the ten-ten trainarrived, Gibralter Strait was on the platform waiting to send to thenearby city of Boston the very first letter that he had ever written.