Online Book Reader

Home Category

The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [1028]

By Root 19394 0

'How much do you know, and what do you mean?' were the questions that throbbed in my thoughts; but I could not utter them, so I said nothing and felt very young.

Outside we joined Davies, who was knitting his brow over prospects.

'It just comes of going into places like this,' he said to me. 'We may be stuck here for days. Too much wind to tow out with the dinghy, and too narrow a channel to beat in.'

Von Brüning was ready with a new proposal.

'Why didn't I think of it before?' he said. 'I'll tow you out in my launch. Be ready at 6.30; we shall have water enough then. My men will send you a warp.'

It was impossible to refuse, but a sense of being personally conducted again oppressed me; and the last hope of a bed in the inn vanished. Davies was none too effusive either. A tug meant a pilot, and he had had enough of them.

'He objects to towage on principle,' I said.

'Just like him!' laughed the other. 'That's settled, then!' A dogcart was standing before the inn door in readiness for von Brüning. I was curious about Esens and his business there. Esens, he said, was the principal town of the district, four miles inland.

'I have to go there,' he volunteered, 'about a poaching case--a Dutchman trawling inside our limits. That's my work, you know--police duty.'

Had the words a deeper meaning?

'Do you ever catch an Englishman?' I asked, recklessly. 'Oh, very rarely; your countrymen don't come so far as this--except on pleasure.' He bowed to us each and smiled.

'Not much of that to be got in Bensersiel,' I laughed. 'I'm afraid you'll have a dull afternoon. Look here. I know you can't leave your boat altogether, and it's no use asking Herr Davies; but will _you_ drive into Esens with me and see a Frisian town--for what it's worth? You're getting a dismal impression of Friesland.' I excused myself, said I would stop with Davies we would walk out over the sands and prospect for the evening', sail.

'Well, good-bye then,' he said, 'till the evening. Be ready for the warp at 6.30.'

He jumped up, and the cart rattled off through the mud, crossed the bridge, and disappeared into the dreary hinterland.

17 Clearing the Air

'HAS he gone to get the police, do you think?' said Davies, grimly.

'I don't think so,' said I. 'Let's go aboard before that customs fellow buttonholes us.'

A diminished row of stolid Frisians still ruminated over the Dulcibella. Friend Grimm was visible smoking on his forecastle. We went on board in silence.

'First of all, where exactly is Memmert?' I said.

Davies pulled down the chart, said 'There,' and flung himself at full length on a sofa.

The reader can see Memmert for himself. South of Juist, _[see Map B]_ abutting on the Ems delta, lies an extensive sandbank called Nordland, whose extreme western rim remains uncovered at the highest tides; the effect being to leave a C-shaped island, a mere paring of sand like a boomerang, nearly two miles long. but only 150 yards or so broad, of curiously symmetrical outline, except at one spot, where it bulges to the width of a quarter of a mile. On the English chart its nakedness was absolute, save for a beacon at the south; but the German chart marked a building at the point where the bulge occurs. This was evidently the depot. 'Fancy living there!' I thought, for the very name struck cold. No wonder Grimm was grim; and no wonder he was used to seek change of air. But the advantages of the site were obvious. It was remarkably isolated, even in a region where isolation is the rule; yet it was conveniently near the wreck, which, as we had heard, lay two miles out on the Juister Reef. Lastly, it was clearly accessible at any state of the tide, for the six-fathom channel of the Ems estuary runs hard up to it on the south, and thence sends off an eastward branch which closely borders the southern horn, thus offering an anchorage at once handy, deep, and sheltered from seaward gales.

Such was Memmert, as I saw it on the chart, taking in its features mechanically, for while Davies lay there heedless and taciturn, a pretence of interest was useless. I knew perfectly

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Online Book Reader