Dent Lester - Trouble On Parade

Presently Smith said, “Stand by with a boathook, will you? We may have to fight rocks.”

In the course of the next 5 minutes, Doc Savage became — successively — thankful there was a calm sea. He was convinced they'd never make it … wishful of being back in New York … certain the cove wasn't big enough to hold them … and convinced it wasn't a cove but a big hole like a gigantic drill-boring in the rocky cliff-side of the island.

But they made it eventually. Disappointed Smith threw out his chest in pride!

“The rum hustlers used to pop in here when the Coast Guard got too close,” he said. “Fine for our purpose. Nobody'll see the boat IF they haven't seen it already. We better wait a while and see if they have.”

“How will we know?” Doc inquired.

“If they don't shoot at us, they didn't see us.”

Mix — looking about dubiously — said, “That's a pleasant prospect.”

She was impressed. “You know, as much time as I've spent on this island, I didn't know about this anchorage.”

Calling the place an "anchorage" was — in Doc's opinion — an unwarranted charity. But if Mix was familiar with the island and hadn't known about it, the spot had advantages.

“What,” he asked, “do we do now?”

“We become shipwrecked mariners,” said Disappointed Smith.

The suggestion — together with a certain strangeness about the way Smith gave it — surprised Doc. He also noted that Mix jumped visibly at the remark.

The dawn was now a hot flush on the horizon, furnishing enough faint flamingo-colored light for them to see each other clearly.

“Shipwrecked?” Doc asked. “Why shipwrecked?”

The effect of the question convinced him that the double meaning was in the word "shipwrecked". So he jumped on the word to give it a conversational ride.

“Why,” Doc inquired, “should we specifically refer to ourselves as 'shipwrecked mariners'?”

“Just an idea,” said Smith uneasily.

“Wouldn't anything but shipwrecked do?”

Smith — noticeably pale — swallowed and didn't say anything. Mix Walden — also looking starkly concerned — cleared her throat.

She said, “I want to tell you two big dopes something right now! And it's this: I don't know anything for certain about this angle you're talking about or I would have gone to the Law a long time ago.”

Much interested, Doc inquired, “You mean the shipwreck angle?”

“What gets me into trouble is my liking for excitement,” Mix said. “Now-and-then I've done some things that weren't exactly 'Sunday School'. But usually it was accidentally. I didn't mean wrong; I just forgot to think. But at wholesale murder and torture, I drew the line. I want no part of it. Furthermore, if I was sure, I'd be the first one to run to the Law.”

“What,” Doc demanded, “are you trying to tell me?”

“Just that I'm not as black as you may begin thinking I am, once you really dig into this Devil's cake that I think — but can't prove — has been baked.”

Si Hedges spoke suddenly.It was the first speech he had made. Hedges had a rounded, sweet voice which was somehow as phony as the sugar coating on a particularly bitter pill.

“I'm innocent also,” Hedges said.

They stared at him, all of them surprised.

Hedges added, “After all, it was I who initiated Doc Savage into the matter. That proves my good and honest intentions.”

Mix Walden and Disappointed Smith laughed loudly at the same time. Their contemptuous mirth contained no belief whatever.

Hedges went into what proved to be another extended silence.

“Shall all we 'innocents',” Doc Savage suggested in an unfunny tone, “proceed with our 'pie-making'?”

Smith eyed him and said, “I'm glad you're trying to be sarcastic instead of funny.”

Smith indicated the bulk of the island around and above them.

“Because this is liable to be a very unfunny place.”

Doc wondered what could be the nature of the thing that would induce such genuine terror into the hitherto indomitable Disappointed Smith.

- — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The climb upward — which Doc had been anticipating with doubts — proved to be nothing alarming although Doc would not have cared to try it in the dark. Nor would he want to attempt the descent back to the boat in the kind of haste which would be desirable if they were pursued. Eventually they pushed out through some thorny bushes, crawling on all fours and taking evasive tactics against thorns on the ground.

Doc became aware that the climb had relieved Si Hedges of 2 commodities — breath and confidence. The stare that Hedges gave them was wild!

He asked “You won't tell them I talked?” and sounded as if he were going to cry.

Mix and Smith surveyed him with contempt.

“I'd love to, you holy little snake!” Disappointed Smith said. “And I would, too, if it weren't for starting people thinking that I knew so much that their future that it would be healthier with me dead.”

Si Hedges blew out his lips with relief.

Doc Savage found that he resented the scholarly, smug young man's satisfaction.

“No reason why I shouldn't say you talked,” Doc announced.

Hedges jumped uncomfortably!

“Oh, you wouldn't!”

“Why not?”

“It would be lying.”

Doc Savage's grunt was full of feeling.

“Practically everyone I've met recently has been lying to me off-and-on. It could be contagious.”

After that, Hedges looked upset enough to give Doc some satisfaction.

Like most islands off this rather hard-hearted section of the Maine coast, this island had few attractions for an eye that didn't like its scenery on the harsh and craggy order. There was not much tree growth. And what there was showed signs of a tough battle for survival.

They picked their way among stones and through nettles and brambles, presently coming to a footpath. And shortly afterward they were presented with a sudden view of a large, many-windowed stone building that was quite pleasant looking.

“Our destination?” Doc asked.

“IF we make it,” Disappointed Smith agreed.

The uneasiness in the red-whiskered giant's voice — as definite as the over-drawn note of a too tightly stretched instrument string — gripped Doc's attention.

“You sound scared,” he remarked.

“I wish to Hell I hadn't come here,” Smith said, and unquestionably meant it.

Continuing down the path, they came at length to a forking of the way. One route led through a stone gate which bore a neat sign on one of the gate posts:

PARADE RESORT HOTEL

“Resort hotel!” Doc said, surprised. “Is that our destination?”

“Uh-huh,” Smith said nervously. “I guess we might as well walk right into the lion's mouth and get it over with.”

“You sound alarmed, although the place looks peaceful enough,” Doc said.

“They would have it looking peaceful for us,” Smith muttered. “And brother, if you see anything unusual , you better pretend not to notice it if you want to stay healthy.”

They approached the hotel. Doc Savage was impressed by the signs of peace.

2 young men were playing tennis on a neat court. An older man was practicing driving golf balls at a net. 2 men and a young lady passed in bathing suits and robes, headed for a small bay where there was a beach and a dock at which some boats were tied. Doc found himself interested in one of the boats — a sleek expensive express cruiser.

The boat, he felt sure, was the Zipper — the abusive Mr. Stanley K. Foreman's craft.