The Cruise of the O Moo, Page 2

  CHAPTER II THE BLUE FACE IN THE NIGHT

  Lucile need not have kept an eye out for trouble. Trouble was destined tofind her and needed no watching. As she expressed it afterward: "Itdoesn't seem to matter much where you are nor what you are doing, if youare destined for adventures you'll have them."

  But the thing which happened to her on the following evening, thoughdoubly mysterious and haunting in its character, appeared to have noconnection whatever to the incident of the note.

  The storm which had been rising all night had lulled with the morningsun, but by mid-afternoon was raging again with redoubled fury. Sendingthe spray dashing high above the breakwaters, it now and then cast a hugecake of ice clear of the water's tallest crest and brought it down uponthe breakwater's rim with the sound of an exploding cannon. Carryingblinding sheets of snow before it, the wind rose steadily in force andvolume until the most hardy pedestrian made headway against it with thegreatest difficulty.

  When Lucile left the university grounds to face east and to begin forcingher way against the wind to the yacht, night had fallen. "Dark as itshould be at seven--woo! what a gale!" she shivered, as buttoning hermackinaw tightly about her throat, she bent forward to meet the storm.

  For a half hour, her body beaten and torn by the wind, her face cut bydriving sleet, she fought her way onward into the night. She had reachedthe shore of the lake and was making her way south, or at least thoughtshe was. So dense was the darkness that it was with the utmost difficultythat she kept her directions.

  "Wish--wish I had tried getting a place to stay nearer the university,"she half sobbed.

  As if in answer to these words, the storm appeared to redouble its fury.Seizing her with its whirling grip, it carried her in a semicircle, toland her at last against a stone wall. So great was the force of herimpact that for the moment she lay there at the foot of the wall, onlypartly conscious of what was going on about her.

  When at last she was able to rise, she knew that she had completely losther way.

  "Might as well follow the wall," she thought desperately. "Little moresheltered here. Bring me to some place after a time."

  The fury of wind and snow continued. At times she fancied she felt thespray from waves dampen her cheeks. She heard distinctly the break ofthese waves--"Against the wall," she told herself, shuddering as thethought came to her that she might suddenly reach the end of this walland be blown into the lake.

  "Anyway I can't stay here," she muttered. "Too cold. Face is freezing, Iguess."

  She paused to remove a glove and touch her cheek. The next instant shewas rubbing it vigorously. "Frozen all right. Have to get in somewheresoon."

  Just at that moment her heart leaped wildly. For a moment the drive ofsnow had slackened. In that moment, a great, black bulk loomed up at herright.

  "Some building," she thrilled, and at once doubled her efforts to escapefrom the storm and reach this promised shelter.

  As, still hugging the wall, she came closer to the looming structure, shesaw that it showed not a single gleaming light. The next moment her lipsparted in an exclamation of dismay:

  "The old Spanish Mission! No one there--hasn't been for years."

  Once she had forced her mind to sober thought, she realized that she hadno reason to hope for anything better. There were but four structures onthat mile of park-front on the lake all deserted at this time of year: abroad, low pavilion; a huge, flat bath-house; a towering castle, relic ofa great fair once held on these grounds, and this Spanish Mission, whichnever had been a real mission, but merely a reproduction of one datingback into other centuries, a huge wooden hull of a thing.

  Resembling a block-house, with its narrow windows and low doors, it hadalways stirred Lucile's curiosity. Now she was about to seek shelter init, or at least in the lee of it. It was deserted, empty, fast fallinginto decay, a mysterious, haunty place. Yet, so buffeted by the storm wasshe, so frightened by the onrush of the elements, that she felt quiteequal to creeping through some opening into its vast emptiness should anopening appear.

  And an opening did offer her opportunity to test her nerve. It was awindow, the glass shattered by the storm. Her heart beating wildly, shesqueezed through into the inky blackness. On tiptoe, she made her waydown the wall to the right. She was obliged to feel for every step. Therewas not a ray of light.

  "Some big hall," she decided. After she had moved along for a space offorty feet or more she whispered: "The chapel!" Her heart skipped a beat."Imagine being in a deserted chapel on such a night!"

  Suddenly overcome with the thought that she might stumble into an altaror a crucifix, she halted and stood there trembling. She had always felta great awe for such things.

  She stood there until her legs ached with the strain of holding to oneposition. Then she pushed on slowly. Suddenly she brushed againstsomething. Recoiling in fright, she stood there motionless.

  At last she had the courage to bend over and put out a hand. To herintense relief, she found that she had come upon a bench standing againstthe wall. Having tested its strength, she sat down. Leaning back, sherested.

  "That's better," she breathed. "The storm will soon be over. Then I'llget out of here and go to the yacht."

  The drive of the wind, the chill of the storm had made her drowsy. Thenight before her sleep had been disturbed. As she sat there her headdrooped more and more. It began nodding, then suddenly came up with ajerk.

  Again she was awake! She would not fall asleep, she told herself. Wouldnot. Would not!

  Yet, in three minutes she was nodding again. This time her chin sanklower and lower, until at last it rested on her breast, which movedslowly up and down in the rhythmic breathing of one who sleeps.

  How long she slept would be hard to tell. So natural was her awaking thatshe did not realize that she had been asleep at all.

  Yet she sensed that something about the place was different. A vagueuneasiness stole over her.

  Once she had opened her eyes, she knew what it was. There was light--astrange light, somewhere in the room; a dim, almost imperceptibleillumination pervaded all.

  As she turned her head, without moving in her seat, she with difficultysuppressed a scream.

  At the far end of the room was an apparition, or so at least it seemed.

  "A blue face! A face of blue fire. It can't be." She rubbed her eyes.

  "And yet it is." Her mind did all the talking. Her lips were numb. It isdoubtful if she could have spoken had she dared to. But this was no timeto speak.

  She did not believe in ghosts, yet there was a face, an illumined face;an ugly face, more fiendish than any she had ever seen. Appearing alive,it rose from the center of a decaying table standing before an altar.Beside the altar, revealed by the pale, bluish light which the faceappeared to shed about it, were two tarnished candlesticks and back ofit, against the wall, hung a crucifix.

  Completely paralyzed by the sight of this blue face in the night and byits awesome surroundings, she sat there quite motionless.

  The light of the blue face appeared to wax and wane, to come and go likethe faint smiles that often pass over a child's face.

  Lucile was suddenly seized with the notion that the face was looking ather. At the same time there came the question: "Is there light enough toreveal my face?" She glanced down to the floor, then breathed a sigh ofrelief; she could not see her own feet. Silently drawing her scarf overher face, covering all but her eyes and hiding her hands beneath hercoat, she sat there hardly daring to breathe.

  She did not have long to wait for, out of the darkness into the pale bluelight, there stole three figures. Whether these were men or women, monks,nuns or devils, she could not tell, so closely were they enshrouded inrobes or coats of black cloth.

  They knelt before the blue face and remained there motionless.

  To quiet her nerves, Lucile began to count. She had reached one hundred,when, for fear she would lose all control of herself and scream or r
un,she closed her eyes. She had counted to one thousand before she daredopen them again.

  When she did so she found another surprise awaiting her. The kneelingfigures were gone. Gone, too, was the face; or at least, it was no longerillumined. The place was dark as a dungeon. Strangely enough, too, thewail of the storm had subsided to a whisper. Only the distant boom ofbreakers told her that a terrific blizzard had passed over the lake.

  Rising without a sound, she tiptoed her way along the wall. Reaching thewindow, she leaped out upon the ground and was away like a flash. Withknees that trembled so they would scarcely support her, she ran for afull half mile before she dared slow down and look back. The snowstormwas over, the moon half out. She could see for some distance behind her,but all she saw was a glistening stretch of snowy landscape. Then shemade her way thoughtfully to the dry dock.

  Once on board the O Moo she told the other girls nothing of heradventures; merely said she had been delayed by the storm. But thatevening as she attempted to study, she would now and then give a suddenstart. Once she sprang up so violently that she upset her chair.

  "What in the world is the matter?" Marian demanded.

  "Nothing, just nerves," she said, forcing a smile, but she did notattempt to study after that. She went and curled up in a huge,upholstered rocker. Even here she did not fall asleep, but sat staringwide-eyed before her until it was bedtime.

  They had all been in their berths for fifteen minutes. Florence had dozedoff when she was suddenly wakened by a hand on her arm. It was Lucile.

  "Please--please!" she whispered. "I can't sleep alone to-night."

  Florence put out a strong hand and drew her up into the berth, thenpulled the covers down over them both and clasped her gently in her arms.

  Lucile did not move for some time. She had apparently fallen asleep whenshe suddenly started violently and whispered hoarsely:

  "No! No! It can't be; I--I don't believe in ghosts."

  At the same time a great shudder shot through her frame.

  "Tell me about it," whispered Florence, holding her tight.

  Then, in halting, whispered sentences, Lucile told of the night'sadventure.

  "That's strange!" whispered Florence. "Reminds me of something an agedsailor told me once, something that happened on the Asiatic side of thePacific. Too long to tell now. Tell you sometime though. Doesn't seem asif there could be any connection. Surely couldn't be. But you never cantell. Better turn over and go to sleep."

  Relieved of half her fear by the telling of the story, Lucile fell asleepand slept soundly until morning.