The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico
by Wilmer M. Ely · English · Gutenberg #44394 · 331,347 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico
Author: Wilmer M. Ely
Illustrator: J. Watson Davis
Release date: December 9, 2013 [eBook #44394]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44394
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY CHUMS IN THE GULF OF MEXICO ***
[Illustration: "Charley leveled his gun and sent sixteen shrieking
bullets just above the wheelman's head."]
The Boy Chums In the Gulf of Mexico
OR
On a Dangerous Cruise with the Greek
Spongers
BY WILMER M. ELY
Author of "The Boy Chums on Indian River," "The Boy
Chums on Haunted Island," "The Boy Chums in
the Forest," "The Boy Chums' Perilous Cruise."
[Illustration]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright 1913
BY A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE BOY CHUMS IN THE GULF OF MEXICO
CONTENTS
I. 3
II. MR. DRIVER. 11
III. PREPARATIONS 19
IV. THE START 27
V. THE START 36
VI. FIRST TROUBLE 45
VII. SPONGING 53
VIII. TROUBLE 61
IX. MANUEL'S RELEASE 68
X. A RASH RESOLVE 76
XI. A MYSTERY 84
XII. IN A DIVING SUIT 94
XIII. A CLOSE CALL 100
XIV. THE DISCUSSION 107
XV. A DESPERATE PLAN 115
XVI. TOO LATE 122
XVII. OUTWITTED 129
XVIII. IMPRISONED 136
XIX. WRECKED 144
XX. HUNTING HELP 152
XXI. THE CASTAWAYS 159
XXII. ANOTHER DANGER 167
XXIII. THE RELAPSE 175
XXIV. THE FLOOD 182
XXV. THE FLOATING HATCH 189
XXVI. WITH THE BOYS 197
XXVII. THE JOURNEY 205
XXVIII. JUDSON 212
XXIX. THE FEUD 219
XXX. BESIEGED 225
XXXI. THE ENEMIES 233
XXXII. THE CASTAWAYS AGAIN 240
XXXIII. THE RESCUE 247
XXXIV. CONCLUSION 255
THE BOY CHUMS
IN THE GULF OF MEXICO
CHAPTER I.
"IT'S just like stepping suddenly into a strange country. I am glad we
came even if we decide not to go into the business."
The speaker, a sturdy, manly-looking boy of eighteen, was one of a
party of four persons who were strolling along a street in the Greek
section of Tarpon Springs, a small Florida town, located on the
Anclote River, a few miles from the Gulf of Mexico. His companions
were a boy about his own age but of less robust appearance, a little
negro lad with a good-humored intelligent face, and a middle-aged,
heavily-bearded, blue-eyed man whose tattooed arms and rolling gait
told of a life spent on tossing seas and whose confident bearing and
air of authority stamped him as one above the rank of a common sailor.
Those who have followed The Boy Chums through their many adventures
will recognize in the little party their old friends Charley West,
Walter Hazard, Captain Westfield and the Bahama lad, Chris, who lately
returned from a perilous trip along the Atlantic beach searching for
wreckage, and now seeking some promising venture in which to invest the
Fifteen Hundred Dollars they earned on that voyage.
"You're right, Charley," agreed the other boy. "I didn't know before
that there was a sight like this in Florida. Here's a bench. Let's set
down and rest a bit. I am tired from walking."
"Golly, I reckon dis nigger's tired some too," chimed in the little
darkey, "I'se dun had de toothache in mah legs for most an hour, but
I'se had to keep up wid you-alls. Don't dare let you white chillen
prognostracate 'round a queer place like dis alone."
The seat selected was a long bench standing on the edge of the
sidewalk, its back to the sandy street. The four seated themselves at
one end and gazed around with eager interest at the strange scene,
unconscious of the curious glances bestowed upon them by a large,
deeply-tanned man, who, seated on the other end of the bench, was
languidly whittling on a piece of white pine with a large sheaf knife.
The scene was one to arouse more than passing interest. Up and down
the sidewalk hurried swarthy-faced, powerfully-built men of all ages
and appearances, but all possessed of the same clear-cut features and
straight noses. Singly and in groups of two and three, they hurried
past, picturesque in their bright-colored clothing with gaudy sashes
knotted about their waists. About all clustered an air of energy and
bustle uncommon to sleepy Florida towns.
Built up close to the inner edge of the sidewalk was a row of large
buildings startling in their coats of bright yellow, red, blue, and
green paint. Stretching away, close together in the distance, they
gave one the impression of a gigantic rainbow. Through their wide-open
doors and windows the interested onlookers could gain a plain view of
the interiors, from which came the confused jangle of foreign tongues.
To the right of where the little party sat was a busy grocery store,
its windows filled with strings of dried garlic, strange-looking
cheeses, queer nuts and fruits and a multitude of eatables strange to
American eyes. To the left of them was a tobacco factory, the whirling
machines shredding up the huge brown leaves into hair-like fibers and
binding them up into pound packages. Directly before them was a great
hall filled with little tables around which were seated groups of the
regular-featured men, playing cards, eating, or puffing at strange
pipes, with a small hose for a stem, the smoke passing through great
glass vessels partly filled with rose water before it reached the
smoker's lips.
"That's the fifteenth place of that kind I've counted to-day," remarked
Charley West. "From their numbers, one would imagine that these people
did nothing but eat and play cards."
"I'd like to try one of them pipes," said Captain Westfield, wistfully.
"I'll bet they give a good, cool smoke."
"Let's go in and get dinner," Walter suggested. "I am hungry as a wolf
and that food smells mighty good. You can try a pipe after we eat,
Captain."
The man at the end of the bench shifted his position closer to them.
"Strangers here?" he enquired.
"Just came in this morning. We're looking into the sponge business a
bit," replied the Captain.
Charley eyed the tanned man closely. There was a sinister expression to
the fellow's face, and his eyes shifted uneasily away from the lad's
level glance. The keen-witted boy was not favorably impressed with the
stranger's appearance, but the man's cordiality drove away his faint
feeling of distrust.
"I'll go in with you then," he offered. "Those fellows don't speak much
English and you would have a hard job making them understand what you
wanted. I know a little Greek and may be able to help you out a bit."
"Much obliged to you," said the Captain, gratefully. "We don't
understand a word of their lingo. I'll stand treat to the dinner if
you'll eat with us."
"It's a go," agreed the stranger, quickly. "Come on. My name's Robert,
Captain Roberts," he volunteered when the little party were seated
around one of the tables, "I'm a retired ship's master."
Captain Westfield introduced himself and his companions. "As I said, we
are lookin' into this sponge business a bit, but it's hard to pick out
the proper course from these twisted-tongued furriners," he said. "Do
you happen to know anything about it?"
"I used to be in the business myself," Captain Roberts replied
promptly. "I made enough money in it to quit the sea for good."
"Then I reckon you're the very man to give us a few pointers. Is there
as much money in it as one hears tell of?"
"More," declared the other. "These Greeks are getting rich off
sponging. It is not anything unusual for a schooner's crew to clear up
three or four thousand dollars from a single trip. It takes quite a bit
of money to make a start, though."
"We have got a little change in our clothes," said the Captain,
modestly. "Do you reckon a person could get started good on a Thousand
dollars?"
"That would do nicely," declared Captain Roberts, "and I can tell you
just how to lay it out to the best advantage, but let's order dinner
first. We can talk while we are eating."
He beckoned to a dark-skinned, ill-favored waiter and gave an order in
low-pitched fluent Greek.
The waiter was back almost instantly with a tray-load of steaming
dishes which he placed upon the table. The boys could not determine
the exact nature of the strange viands, but they were too hungry to be
critical, and attacked the food with hearty appetites.
"This mutton stew is delicious," Charley declared as he took another
helping. "I don't know as I ever tasted anything better."
Captain Roberts grinned. "You don't want to make any guesses about
Greek food," he declared. "That isn't mutton, but just tough old
Billy-goat, fattened on a diet of tin cans. These fellows have the
knack of fixing up such things so they can't recognize them themselves.
Just wait till the coffee is served. You'll say you never drank any
better. But let's get back to that sponging business now, Captain."
He and Captain Westfield were soon plunged in a tangled maze of talk
about schooners, diving boats, sponges, and divers.
The boys gave but little heed to the discussion for their attention was
partly diverted by the unusual scene around them.
"It's just like being in another country," Walter whispered to his chum.
"Yes, but I don't like the attention we seem to receive," Charley
replied. "Those fellows are staring at us as though there was something
wrong in our being here."
The Greeks gathered around the other tables indeed seemed more than
casually interested in the little party. They stared frequently at them
and their new acquaintance, and exchanged significant glances and low
words with each other.
"I guess we appear as odd to them as they do to us," Walter said,
carelessly. "There is a man who is not a Greek. That fellow leaning
against the end of the counter in the corner."
The man indicated was unmistakably an American. He was short,
heavily-built and had a determined, aggressive face. He was engaged in
a heated discussion with the proprietor of the cafe and his heavy face
was flushed with anger. As the boys gazed curiously, he brought down
his clenched fist on the counter with a force that shattered some of
the dishes piled upon it.
"You needn't smirk, grin, and make excuses," he thundered at the suave,
smiling Greek. "You've got to pay me that bill you owe me. It's been
standing for months and I happen to know that you are making money all
the time, hand over fist. It's no use pretending you don't understand
me," he shouted, as the smiling Greek shrugged his shoulders. "You know
what I say. If you don't come up with the money by to-morrow night I'll
close up this place and have you prosecuted for obtaining goods under
false pretences. And it will not be any use for you to try your nice
little Greek trick of a knife in my back in the dark. I go heeled and
I don't go to sleep when I walk this street. The fellow who tries that
trick on me will stop enough lead to start a cartridge factory."
He turned and was walking towards the door when his glance rested for a
moment on the boys and their companions. His glance swept swiftly over
each member of the little party. He paused, hesitated a moment, then
turning, walked swiftly towards their table.
Captain Roberts rose hastily at his approach. "There's a friend of mine
over there," he said hurriedly, "who I want to speak to. I'll be back
in a minute."
The approaching stranger noted his departure with a grim smile. He
stopped beside the Captain and stood gazing down for one brief minute.
"Are you fools or strangers?" he demanded, crisply.
CHAPTER II.
MR. DRIVER.
THE stranger's smile robbed his words of their hardness.
"Strangers, yes," Charley replied, "Fools, no."
"No offense intended," said the man, quickly. "Strangers will sometimes
take advice but fools will not. My advice to you strangers is to keep
out of places like this and not to make friends with other strangers. I
don't suppose you know who that man is who just left you."
"He's a retired sea captain," said Captain Westfield. "He was giving us
some pointers about the sponge business. Mighty pleasant an' obligin'
fellow. Mighty fair-spoken."
"Bless your simple little souls," exclaimed the stranger. "He's no
captain, active or retired. He's the runner for this place. Lucky you
haven't any of you drank your coffee yet. You'd be waking up in some
alley bye-and-bye with your heads aching from knock-out drops and your
pockets turned inside out. My, but you were easy."
"I don't reckon any one would dare do such a thing in broad daylight,"
Captain Westfield declared.
"It's been done in this place a dozen times. And the victim's kicks
never did any good after it happened, for there was always a dozen
Greeks ready to go on the stand and swear that it was only a case of
drunkenness on the victim's part. Better get out of here."
The humbled little party arose and followed their conductor out to the
sidewalk. As they passed through the crowd they could not help but
notice the wrathful glances the sitters bestowed upon the one who had
cheated them of their victims.
"I guess we have acted pretty green," Charley admitted, as they passed
outside, "but we were so eager to learn about the sponge business that
we forgot caution. Besides, one does not look for such tricks in a
little town like this. It's not like a big city where one has to be
always on his guard against strangers."
The stranger favored the members of the little party with a closer
scrutiny than he had yet bestowed upon them.
"So you are figuring on going into the sponge business, eh?" he asked.
"We may try it a bit if we find out that it pays as well as we have
heard tell of," answered Captain Westfield, cautiously, "but it's
mighty hard to find out anything definite about it from these Greeks."
"Oh, there's big money in it all right," said their new friend. "You
might make a go of it. You are a pretty husky, determined-looking lot
and would soon get on to the Greekish tricks. It's a risky business,
though. I don't advise anyone to take it up."
"We've encountered a few risks in other lines," said Charlie, modestly.
"We are willing to take a few chances if there's money enough in it to
tempt us."
The stranger pulled out his watch and looked at the time. "My name is
Driver," he remarked. "I own a store over on the next street in the
American section. Business is slack at this time of day and I will show
you around a bit, if you wish. My clerks can look out for the trade for
an hour or two."
"No need of thanks," he said as the Captain accepted his offer
gratefully. "If you decide to go into the sponge business, you will
need lots of provisions and I hope to sell them to you. We Americans
do not get any of the Greek trade and we are always glad to secure a
new customer. Now I suppose you want to know about the profit side of
the business first. Well, I can not give you exact figures but I know
that all engaged in the business are making big money. All these big
buildings you see have been built out of sponging, and they do not
represent a hundredth part of the money made out of the business.
There is an enormous amount sent back to Greece every month through the
post-office and bank here. I know Greeks who landed here only a few
years ago with nothing but the clothes on their backs--and those were
mighty poor--that are wealthy men now and they made their fortunes out
of sponges. Oh, there's big money in it all right. But you can look
into that part of the business closer later on. Now, I want to show
you something of the sponges themselves. We will go down to the harbor
first."
The interested little party followed him as he led the way along a soft
sand road flanked by scrub palmettos.
Their guide paused beside one of the several large buildings standing
close to the road. "This is a clipping shed," he said.
The building was open on one side and was filled with a crowd of old
men, women and young boys, all Greeks. Before each was a pile of rough
sponges from which they were clipping the spoilt parts with great
shearing shears. In one corner, a man worked over a big screw-press,
pressing the severed fragments of sponges into huge compact bales.
"That part isn't important enough to waste much time looking at," Mr.
Driver said, as he turned away. "Come on and I'll show you something
worth seeing."
As they followed along behind their guide, the boys became sensible
of a strong, pleasant, appetizing odor in the air, an odor which grew
stronger as they advanced. A turn in the road brought them suddenly
upon the source of the odor. On the shore of a quiet little land-locked
harbor, blazed dozens of small camp-fires over which sat great iron
kettles. On pieces of canvas laid upon the ground were piles of fresh
beef and mutton. Over each pile worked several Greeks cutting the meat
with the sheaf knives into tiny squares about an inch in size. Other
Greeks were dumping the little square pieces into the kettles, while
still others kept the contents stirred and the fires under the kettles
burning briskly.
"They are putting down the meat for their next voyage," explained Mr.
Driver. "They roast it in its own fat, put it into stone jars, and pour
the fat over it. As soon as the fat cools and congeals it forms an
air-tight covering which keeps the meat from spoiling."
"If it tastes half as good as it smells, it must be delicious," Charley
remarked.
Chris viewed the cooking operation with professional jealousy. "Golly,
I bet dey can't cook like dis nigger," he declared, "I spect dem
kettles ain't none too clean noway."
Captain Westfield gave but scant attention to the trying-out process.
His interest was centered on the big fleet of schooners anchored near
shore. They were over a hundred in number and were of all sizes and
designs. They made a pretty sight lying gracefully close together in
the little harbor. But the old sailor soon strolled on to where groups
of Greeks were building and repairing boats on the shore. He inspected
their work with a critical eye, but he was soon lost in admiration.
"Lads," he exclaimed, "I never saw such workmen before. They are
turnin' out tight, neat seaworthy little crafts with no tools but a saw
and a hatchet. Ain't those queer lookin' crafts though."
The boats were about thirty feet in length, sharp at both bow and
stern, and of enormous depth for their size. True to their love for
bright colors the Greeks had painted each plank a different hue and the
little vessels looked like floating rainbows.
The captain viewed their single masts, which inclined aft at an angle
of forty-five degrees, with deep-sea scorn.
"It's clean against Nature for a mast to be set that way," he declared.
"It ain't regular or ship-shape."
"Those small crafts are used as diving boats," Mr. Driver explained.
"They carry a big square sail, but most of them are equipped with
engines also. They are great sea boats and will ride out a gale almost
as well as the schooners."
His explanations were interrupted by loud talking close at hand and
the little party, full of curiosity, hastened to the spot from which
the uproar came.
In the center of a circle of curious onlookers, a large man wearing a
marshal's badge was slipping a pair of handcuffs on the wrists of a
slender boyish-looking young fellow.
"No need to put those things on me, Mr. Officer," the lad was
protesting, passionately. "I'll go along with you without any trouble.
I've only acted within my rights and all I want is a fair trial."
"Anything you say can be used against you at your trial," cautioned the
marshal.
"I don't care, I admit I shot two of those treacherous Greeks. It was
the only thing to do. When it came on to blow a gale, they refused to
cut the cable, and work the schooner. It was a case of making them obey
orders and get her off before the seas or lose my ship. I only wish I
had shot more of them. They have been laying for me ever since to slip
a knife into me and chuck me overboard. I haven't dared take a wink of
sleep for three days and two nights."
"Poor fellow," said Mr. Driver, as the marshal led away his protesting
captive. "I expect it happened just as he says--an open mutiny,
compelling him to shoot--but every Greek in his crew will go on the
stand and swear that it was a case of cold-blooded murder. Fortunately,
the judge is wise to Greek methods and the law deals gently with
commanders."
"He looked mighty young to be a captain," said Captain Westfield.
"It's this way," Mr. Driver explained, "the law compels the Greeks to
have an American captain for each schooner and diving boat, and they
hire the youngest and, therefore, cheapest man that they can get. It's
a dog's life, out alone for months with a gang that doesn't speak
a word of English. As long as the captain is content to be a mere
figurehead he can get along without serious trouble, but the minute
he runs counter to their wishes there is a row. But time is flying,
and I must get back to the store. If you will come back with me I'll
introduce you to a man who knows more about sponging than another
American in the country."
"Just a moment, lads," said the Captain, as they turned to go. "Which
of those schooners do you like the best?"
The two chums unhesitatingly indicated a beautiful two-masted,
snow-white schooner that seemed to rest as loftily on the water as a
floating swan. The grace and beauty of exquisite lines marked her out
from the many shapely schooners surrounding her. In large gilt letters
on either side of her bow was her name "Beauty".
"She's my choice too," declared the Captain. "I wish we owned her. I
ain't never seen a prettier model."
CHAPTER III.
PREPARATIONS.
AS soon as they got back into town, Mr. Driver hunted up the man of
whom he had spoken, and, introducing him to each of the little party,
hurried back to his store.
Mr. Williams was a young man still in his twenties. He was a stocky,
well-built young fellow with an intelligent face, determined manner,
and a short, crisp way of speaking. He sized up the little party with
one quick appraising glance as Captain Westfield stated their errand.
"If you are not willing to stand hardships, dirt, discomfort, and
danger, you want nothing to do with sponging," he declared.
"We can stand anything that it pays us to stand," Charley replied,
quickly.
"Well, that's the right kind of spirit," approved the young man, "but,
of course you don't any of you realize what you will have to meet. I've
seen others start in with the same confidence and get cold feet before
the first trip was over. It isn't any nice, ladies' pink-tea business.
It's a game for real men, but if the men are the right kind, they
get their reward for what they endure, all right, all right. I landed
here with an empty pocket and emptier stomach, and now,--well, I am
not a John D. Rockefeller yet, but I've got enough laid by to keep the
wolf from the door for a good many years. Better men than I have done
better than I have. It's like everything else, the best man wins, and
wins something worth winning, but, as I have said, it's no business for
nice, tender, little Willie boys, it's a man's game."
Charley grinned in sympathy with the reliant, independent spirit of the
young fellow which was close kin to his own traits. "We left off our
short pants last summer," he observed, gravely, "we are fast learning
to dress ourselves, and the Captain there can even comb his own hair."
"Good," chuckled the other, "I guess _you_ will pass muster anyway, so
I will give you some idea of what you will have to expect. First, there
is the loneliness. For three months at a time you'll be at sea without
another soul to talk to, for there are very few of the Greeks who speak
English. With a party like yours it would not be so bad for you would
be company for each other, but for the American captains who go out
alone with a crew of Greeks, it's awful. I've known some to go crazy
for sheer loneliness, and few ever make a second trip,--I'll never
forget my first experience. Second, sponging is a dirty business, the
stench from dying sponges will upset any but the strongest stomachs.
Third, there are the dangers, storms, accidents, and troubles with the
crew. I have never had any serious trouble with my own men, but then I
understand their lingo and that counts for a good deal, and, besides
they all know me around here and know that I will shoot first and
explain afterwards--that counts for still more."
"All that is interesting, but it ain't to the pint," said Captain
Westfield. "The question is what can one make off a trip. I reckon them
little things you're telling about is just details."
"I'm afraid you'll find them pretty serious details," Mr. Williams
said with a laugh, "but you are right, the money point is the main
thing. That's the only thing that has kept me in the business. Well, I
had considerable _bad_ luck last trip but I cleaned up three thousand
dollars. I've been doing better than that."
The chums looked at each other with expressive faces while Mr.
Williams' keen black eyes twinkled as he watched them.
"I seed a schooner down at the harbor," observed Captain Westfield,
carelessly. "She was a pretty looking little craft and her name just
seemed to fit her--'The Beauty'. If she's good an' sound an' for sale,
I might be willing to give a thousand dollars for her."
Mr. Williams laughed, "You are not the first sailor who has fallen
in love with the 'Beauty'. She is the finest ever. She has led the
sponging fleet for three seasons. Many have tried to buy her but
couldn't. You are in luck, however. Her owner died last week and I have
just received a letter from his widow asking me to find a purchaser for
her. You can have her as she lays for thirteen hundred dollars, and she
is dirt cheap at that."
"Will you hold that offer open until ten o'clock to-night?" asked the
captain, "we will want to talk it all over a bit."
Mr. Williams agreed to his request, and, after thanking him gratefully
for his information, the little party took their departure.
"Back to the harbor," said the captain as soon as they were out of
hearing. "I want to take a good look at the 'Beauty'. If she is
anyway near as good as she looks from a distance she's worth at least
twenty-five hundred dollars. Why we could make a tidy sum by buying
her, sailing her around to Jacksonville, and selling her again."
They soon arrived at the harbor again where for a quarter they hired a
young Greek to row them out to the schooner.
They found the little vessel all that her name implied. She was about
sixty-five feet long and broad for her length. She looked more like a
gentleman's yacht than a sponging vessel and they were all delighted
with her appearance. But pleased as they were with her on deck, they
were even more pleased with her below. There, they found a large
main cabin with swinging lamps, hanging sideboard, easy chairs, and
comfortable furnishings. Opening into the main cabin were found roomy
staterooms, two on a side, furnished with large bunks containing
springy mattresses. Instead of the small portholes, common with crafts
of her size, each stateroom was provided with windows of heavy glass to
admit air and light.
Up forward at the foremast was the forecastle, or crew's quarters. It
was large, comfortable and well equipped with bunks. Aft of it was
the cook's galley, containing a good stove and plenty of pots, pans
and kettles. Everything was exquisitely neat and clean. But Captain
Westfield was not content with a mere survey of cabin and furnishings.
He unfurled several of the sails and examined the canvas closely. He
tested the strength of rope after rope. He climbed aloft and looked
over blocks, stays, and running gear. Lastly, he descended into the
hold and examined all that was visible of the vessel's ribs and
planking.
"She's as tidy a little craft as I ever saw," he declared, when he at
last rejoined the boys back by the wheel. "She ain't over six years old
an' her sails an' rigging are all new. She's worth twenty-five hundred
dollars of any man's money if she's worth a cent. All we have got to
do it to buy her and carry her around to some lively port an' we can
make twelve hundred dollars as easy as finding it."
"What's the use of selling her right off if we buy her," Walter
suggested, "Surely a few months' use will not lessen her value to any
great extent. Why not make a couple of trips sponging in her. I am
anxious to have a try for some of that big money they all talk about.
We will never have a better chance than now. At the worst, we would
only lose the price of a few months' provisions, we would still have
our vessel worth far more than we paid for her."
"You've hit the nail right on the head," the captain exclaimed,
delightedly. "That's just what I've been studying over, but I reckoned
I'd wait an' see if either of you boys proposed it."
Charley hesitated before agreeing to his chum's proposal. "I confess,
I am not so anxious to try the sponge business as I was," he remarked.
"First, we know nothing about it ourselves, and would have to depend
entirely upon hired help--which is a bad thing to have to do in
any business. Second, I don't like the Greeks, I don't like their
appearances, I don't like the reputation they have, and I don't like
the idea of being with a gang that doesn't understand English."
"Bosh," Walter replied, lightly, "we will get along all right with
them. It isn't like one lone man being out with them, there are four
of us and they wouldn't dare start trouble with so many. As for making
them understand, why we can hire a man as interpreter. I believe it's
the best chance to make money we've had yet."
"And I too," Captain Westfield agreed. "I reckon we'd be foolish to
let such a chance slip by. That young fellow Williams says he's made
considerable."
"But he made several trips and learned the business before he went into
it on his own hook," Charley objected. "However, I am not going to hold
back if the rest of you want to try it."
"Good," exclaimed the captain, "we will go right back and settle the
deal with Williams. We'll make money off the schooner if we don't off
the sponging."
They found Mr. Williams still in his office. The thirteen hundred
dollars was paid over and they received a bill of sale for the
'Beauty', one diving boat and everything the schooner contained.
"You've got a good boat at a mighty low price," he said. "There is no
reason why you shouldn't make well with her, if you just use common
sense. Doubtless, you have heard lots of hard things about the Greeks,
but I don't believe they are half as bad as they are painted. Half of
the trouble captains have with them comes from their not understanding
each other. Get a reliable man to translate your orders, and you will
get along all right although you will find it a hard life. I wish I
could help you select your crew but I have to go to Tampa to-morrow,
and will not be back until the fleet sails. We will see each other
again on the sponging grounds, if not before. I wish you the best of
luck until we meet."
The now tired little party bade the hustling young man good-bye and
repaired to the small hotel where they engaged rooms and meals.
After supper Charley unpacked his valise and got out the silver-mounted
revolver presented to him by Mr. Weston. He noted its calibre and
sauntering down to the hardware store purchased several boxes of
cartridges of a size to fit. He gave a couple of boxes to Walter who
possessed the exact duplicate of his weapon.
"That's my first preparation for our trip," he said laughing.
But, although he spoke lightly, he was troubled by vague misgivings
that their new venture was not going to be the smooth sailing his
companions believed. For one thing, he doubted if rough, blunt,
quick-tempered Captain Westfield was just the man to successfully
handle the suave, oily, treacherous Greeks.
CHAPTER IV.
THE START.
"WE have got to get a move on us," Captain Westfield said as the
four chums gathered together at the breakfast table. "I've been out
enquirin' around this mornin' an' I've larned that the sponging fleet
sails in two days. Of course we don't have to go with the fleet, but,
bein' as it's our first trip an' we're green at the business, I reckon,
we had better keep with the crowd an' learn all we can. I've been up
to see the United States Commissioner an' got charts of the sponging
grounds an' took out papers for the ship. We're all officers on the
papers, lads. He put me down as captain of the schooner, Chris is mate.
You, Charley, are captain of the diving boats, an' Walter's chief
engineer."
"I don't want to be no mate," Chris protested. "I wants to be de cook.
Dat's schooner's got a powerful fine galley an' a sight ob pots an'
kettles. Golly! I reckon dis nigger can fix up de grub better dan any
of dem ignorant furriners. A mate ain't no manner ob count on board a
little ship. De captain's always blamin' him for somethin' or udder
an' de crew always hates him. He's always in trubble wid one or the
udder. Now de cook's always his own boss, he don't hab to stay out
nights in de cold an' de rain an' ebbery one is powerful perlite to
him, 'cause dey wants to keep on de bes' side ob de one dat handles de
grub. I'd rather be a cook dan an ole mate any day."
"But you don't know how to rig up their queer furrin dishes, lad," the
captain explained. "They ain't used to eatin' grub fixed up good like
you fix it."
"Golly! I reckon dat's so," agreed the little negro, pompously. "I
spect dey doan know much 'bout cookin'. Reckon dey wouldn't eat any
more ob der own if dey got a taste ob mine."
"That's the trouble," the captain agreed craftily, "an' we don't want
to spoil them. Besides, I reckoned you'd like to be mate. Why, I was at
sea ten years before I got a mate's berth. I reckon your folks on Cat
Island would be mighty proud to hear that you were one an' was wearing
a blue suit with big brass buttons, an' a cap with Mate on it in big
gilt letters."
"Golly! I nebber thought ob dat," exclaimed the little negro,
delightedly, rising hastily from the table. "I'se goin' to buy dem
clothes right now an' hab my picture took in 'em an' send 'bout twenty
ob dem to de folks on Cat Island."
"You got around that pretty neatly, Captain," Charley said, as soon as
Chris was gone. "I expected him to insist upon being cook. He thinks no
one else can do it so well. But, seriously, don't you think we are all
rather young to be ship's officers. Men are quite apt to resent having
to take orders from mere boys."
"The law requires that those four offices be filled by Americans an'
we can't afford to hire men to fill the places. Chris will be under my
orders all the time an' will be mate only in name. But you boys are
already smart sailors an' I expect you to be real officers on your
boats. If you weren't on the papers proper you might have trouble with
your men, but the fact that you are regular commissioned officers will
make smooth sailing for you. Any refusal to obey your orders would be
mutiny."
"Very well, Captain," agreed Walter. "What do you want Captain West and
I to do next?"
"Just lay around an' enjoy yourselves this mornin', I guess. The first
thing is to get a fellow who talks Greek an' to hire a crew. I want to
pick them out myself. As soon as we get them there will be plenty to
do stockin' up with grub an' water. Better spend the time lookin' over
your new command an' pickin' up what you can about the business."
The advice was good, and, as soon as they had finished breakfast, the
boys hastened down to the harbor to inspect the diving boats they had
acquired with the purchase of the 'Beauty'. Upon a close inspection,
they were delighted with their new commands. The little vessel was
quite new and its model promised great seaworthiness. Besides the huge
square sail it carried, it was equipped with a ten-horse power gasoline
engine. Its rig was different from any the boys had ever seen, and they
spent several hours studying it, and making themselves acquainted with
the working of the engine.
"I believe I can handle it by myself now, if I had to do it," Charley
declared, at last. "The engine may give us a little trouble at first,
but we will soon get on to it and it's likely there will be several
Greeks in the crew who know how to run it. Now, the next thing is to
settle on a name for our craft."
"I thought of calling it 'Flora'," Walter said, with a little sheepish
smile.
"And I was thinking of naming it 'Ola'," declared Charley promptly.
After a spirited debate over the two names they held in such esteem,
the two lads at last came to a compromise by agreeing to call their
little ship "The Two Sisters". This decided, they rummaged around
in the lockers until they found paint and brushes with which they
proceeded to letter on the bow of their crafts the name chosen.
As soon as this task was finished, they returned to the village and
made a round of the shops purchasing clothing for their trip, pricing
provisions, and learning all they could from the various merchants
about the Greeks and the sponge business.
They were passing a little photo studio when Chris' voice hailed them
from inside. It was hard for them to refrain from laughter at the
figure the little negro presented.
A common blue suit had been too tame a color for Chris'
brilliant-loving soul. He was clothed in a pair of baggish yellow
trousers, many sizes too large for him, a coat of vivid scarlet hue,
and a cap of deepest purple. But in spite of his brilliant attire, his
little ebony face expressed deepest satisfaction. On a chair beside
him was a great pile of finished tin-types and the Greek proprietor,
beaming at the unusual rush of business, was just adjusting his camera
to take another.
"Why, what do you want with any more of them, Chris?" Walter exclaimed.
"You've got enough already to supply everyone on Cat Island."
"Dey ain't no good," replied the little darkey, mournfully, "I 'spect
dis man doan know his business."
Charley examined one of the despised tintypes. "Why, they look just
like you," he declared.
"Dey's just black an' white," protested the little negro. "Dey doan
show de colors at all."
The chums turned their heads aside to hide their grins.
"That's a Greek camera, Chris," Charley said with a wink at Walter.
"You can't expect it to take American colors. I tell you what to do.
Just write at the bottom of each picture: Pants, yellow; coat, scarlet;
cap, purple."
"Golly! I nebber thought ob dat," exclaimed the little darkey,
brightening. "But it hain't like habbing de colors show," he added,
mournfully.
The three were making their way back to the hotel when their progress
was arrested by piercing screams coming from the rear of a large Greek
restaurant.
The boys hesitated and looked at each other.
"Sounds as though someone was hurt pretty bad," Charley commented, "but
I guess we had better go along about our business. We are likely to
get ourselves into trouble if we meddle with things in this section,"
but as he spoke the screams rang out afresh. The chums looked at each
other; there was no need for words between them.
"Well, it's foolish, but here goes," Charley exclaimed.
A narrow alley led into the rear of the building and down it has
hastened followed by his two companions.
A minute's walk brought them to the scene of the screams.
In a little back yard stood a small Greek boy about thirteen years of
age. He was clad only in short trousers and his bare back and legs
were covered with angry welts. Above him towered a dark, scowling
Greek, who was swinging a heavy cowhide whip, while at each descent of
the cruel, stinging lash the lad's screams rose in piteous protests.
Clustered around was some dozen men and boys looking on with unconcern.
Charley caught the Greek's arm as it rose for another blow. "Stop that,
you big brute," he cried, trembling with anger. "You have no right to
beat a little fellow like that, no matter what he has done. If you hit
him another blow, I'll have you arrested."
"He won't understand you, Charley," Walter cautioned.
But the Greek did understand. He turned a look of the deepest hate on
the plucky lad. For a second he seemed in the act of striking him with
the heavy whip, but Charley did not flinch. "Try it, if you dare," he
cried.
The Greek lowered his upraised arm. "Why should I not strike him?" He
demanded savagely, but in perfect English. "He is mine, I pay his fare
all the way from Greece. All day he plays on the street and brings home
no money. I will beat him if I wish."
"You will not," declared Charley, firmly. "If you do, you will be
arrested very quickly. Lad, if this man attempts to beat you again,
you come to us; you will find us on board the schooner 'Beauty'. If
she is not in the harbor you go to Mr. Driver who owns the store, I
will tell him about you and he will see that you are not abused. Do you
understand what I say?"
"Yes sir, I speak English good," the little lad replied proudly. "He
teach me so I can beg the pennies."
The Greek's manner had suddenly changed. His frown disappeared and he
wore a smile that he endeavored to make pleasant.
"The noble young gentleman need not worry," he said, smoothly, "I love
the boy and already regret having whipped him--he is very bad. But it
shall happen no more."
"It had better not," Charley replied shortly, as he turned away. "Come
on, Walt, I am going to speak to Mr. Driver about it now."
Mr. Driver listened to the lad's story with a very grave face. "I'm
afraid you boys have made a dangerous enemy," he said. "That Greek is
Manuel George, and he is a very bad character. He was arrested once
for the murder of another Greek, but they could not prove the charge
against him although everyone believed that he had done it. You want to
be very careful as long as you are in Tarpon. I will gladly have him
arrested if the boy makes any complaint to me."
The boys found the captain waiting for them at the hotel. "I've had
the best of luck," the old sailor declared. "I found the very Greek we
need to make our orders plain to the crew. He talks English as good
as you or I. I did not lose any time in gettin' his name on the ship's
papers. He promised to meet us here at the hotel this noon. There he
comes now."
The chums exchanged a glance of dismay, for approaching their table,
bowing, smiling, and as suave as though they were his dearest friends
was Mr. Manuel George.
CHAPTER V.
THE START.
THE captain introduced the boys to the Greek who beamed upon them as
though nothing unpleasant had ever passed between them. The lads met
his smiling advances with a cold silence which the captain noticed with
puzzled concern.
As soon as he could do so without attracting too much notice, Walter
drew the old sailor to one side. "We don't want anything to do with
that man," he declared, and he hurriedly told about the whipping and
repeated what Mr. Driver had said.
Captain Westfield looked troubled. "I wish I'd known that two hours
ago," he said. "He's signed on with us now an' if I try to get rid of
him he can make a lot of trouble for us. We have got to take him along.
If we don't, he's liable to libel the schooner an' cost us no end of
money and delay."
Walter's face showed his anxiety and concern.
"He said he was going to bring a boy along with him to act as cabin
boy," said the old sailor after an uncomfortable pause. "Maybe it will
all work out for the best. He won't be able to abuse the lad on the
schooner, an' I don't see how he can make us any trouble. All he's to
do is to make our orders plain to the men, it ain't as though he was an
officer over them."
"Well, if it can't be helped, we have just got to make the best of it,"
Walter agreed, "I am going to keep a mighty close watch on him all the
time, though. We will talk more about it later on. He keeps glancing at
us as though he knew we were talking about him."
As soon as he got the chance, Walter told his chum what the captain had
said.
"I don't like the idea of that fellow going with us," Charley declared,
"but if it has got to be, we had better start in by treating him
friendly. It won't help matters any to quarrel with him."
That was sound sense and the boys at once began to treat the Greek
pleasantly, in spite of the dislike they felt for him.
There was no doubt but what the fellow understood his position
thoroughly. With his able assistance, the captain, in a short time,
secured a full crew of fifteen men, including four professional divers
who brought their queer looking suits with lead shoes and heavy helmets
along with them. The boys were pleased with the appearance of the men.
They were well-built, husky fellows and looked to be capable sailors.
They were much alike in looks, all being broad-shouldered and swarthy
with clean-cut features and straight noses. One alone seemed to differ
greatly from the rest. He was a tall, powerful, handsome fellow with
unusually small hands and feet. He seemed to be shunned by the others
and left very much to himself. He was evidently a good sailor and when
the captain set his new crew at work to getting the schooner ready for
sea he performed his part with a quickness and intelligence that won
the old sailor's approval.
As soon as the work was well under way, Charley and Walter, taking the
interpreter with them, went back up town to purchase their stores. The
bulk of their purchases were made at Mr. Driver's store, but there were
many articles that he did not carry in stock which they had to buy at
the Greek stores. Manuel directed them as to the kind of food their
crew were accustomed to. The bulk of the stores consisted of ripe black
olives in small kegs; queer looking cheeses, rice, black flour and an
abundance of tea and coffee. The boys bought three whole beeves and
four lambs, directing that all their purchases should be sent down to
the schooner at once.
"Whew," whistled Charley as he paid the last bill, "we have only got
five dollars left of our fifteen hundred."
"Don't you care," Walter replied, confidently. "We will have a couple
of thousand dollars anyway coming to us when we get back, and still
have the 'Beauty' besides."
The boys next visited the hotel and got their valises and belongings
which they carried down to their new floating home.
They found that the Greeks already had the meat cut up and sizzling
merrily in the great iron kettles.
The new crew were a quick and willing lot and before dark the last
article was stored aboard, and, with the diving boat towing along
behind, they dropped the schooner down the river to the mouth and
anchored for the night just outside amongst a great fleet of schooners
lying ready for an early morning start for the sponging ground.
Long after they had eaten their supper and all of the crew but the
anchor watch had retired to the forecastle, the four chums sat on
deck admiring the beauty of the scene around them. A thousand lights
twinkled from the fleet and high in the air ahead of them the great
lantern of the Anclote lighthouse on its little island of barren rock.
Captain Westfield awoke the boys early next morning, "Hurry up on deck
if you want to see the prettiest sight you ever saw," he said. The lads
hustled into their clothing and followed him up the ladder. As they
gained the deck they paused with exclamations of deepest admiration.
It was blowing a stiff breeze and the blue water of the Gulf was
dancing and sparkling with white-crested waves. Around them was the
fleet all under sail, their snowy canvas towering high above their
shapely hulls. Some lay with sails slatting, still clinging to their
anchorage while their brightly attired crews worked over windlasses,
reeling in the dripping cables. Some already under way lay hove-to in
the open Gulf waiting for their fellows; while still others, anchors
tripped and sails drawing, heeling over to the brisk breeze, darted
away, sending the water tossing and foaming from their bows.
The boys drew a long breath of pure delight at the beautiful picture.
"It's grand," Charley cried.
"Aye, lad," agreed the captain with satisfaction. "There's no place
like the sea for beautiful scenes. But thar ain't a ship in the whole
fleet as pretty as our own. Just watch her now."
The old sailor gave a few short orders which the interpreter repeated
to the crew. A dozen of them sprang to the windlass, while others stood
by the halyards, ready to hoist the big jibs the second the anchor
broke ground. The "Beauty's" huge main and foresails were already
hoisted and her cable hove short.
The men at the windlass shouted some words.
"Anchor broke," translated Manuel.
"Up helm," commanded the captain, "give her the jibs."
The great sails mounted their stays, the "Beauty's" head played off,
and, careening over 'till her lee rail touched the water, she surged
through the waters like a thing alive.
The chums watched the foam sweep past in transports of delight.
"My, but she's fast," Walter cried.
"Aye, lad," the captain agreed, joyfully. "I ain't never seen a faster,
except maybe Black Sam's schooner. We'll have to shorten sail in an
hour if we don't want to run away from the rest of the fleet."
The boys watched with delight as the Beauty overhauled and passed
schooner after schooner.
As she surged past a large black-hulled vessel with three diving boats
in tow, a man on the stranger's deck waved his cap and shouted,
"Good luck to you. Better keep with the fleet."
"That's Mr. Williams," Charley exclaimed. "I am glad that we are going
to be near somebody we know."
"Yes, it is Mr. Williams," affirmed Manuel, who was standing near. "But
here is my little boy to say that your breakfast is ready."
"What is your name?" Walter enquired of the little fellow as they all
followed him below. "I could never remember that," he said, when the
lad replied with a very long Greek name. "I guess we will have to call
you Ben for short."
The band of chums were very hungry and they seated themselves around
the table before the steaming cups of coffee and waited impatiently
for the food to be brought on, but the little Greek lad took a position
behind their chairs and waited.
"Hurry up, Ben, and bring the breakfast," the captain ordered.
"Breakfast there," the lad replied.
The old sailor repeated his order but Ben replied as before.
"I reckon he don't understand," the captain remarked, "Go up and tell
your father, owner, or whoever he is, to come down."
The lad was back in a minute with the smiling Greek.
"We want our breakfast," the captain explained, "the boy don't seem to
understand."
"He understands all right, but, I see the cook does not comprehend. It
is the custom to have coffee only in the morning on sponging ships."
"Nothing but coffee for breakfast?" roared the old sailor.
"We eat but one meal a day and that at night," the Greek explained. "If
the rest of the crew ate the divers would want to eat also, and that
would be fatal for them. The stomach must be empty when they descend to
the bottom in deep water, otherwise they die."
"Well, they can't see us eat an' I want my three square meals a day,"
said the hungry sailor. "Right saving plan for us though if they only
eat once a day."
"They eat the whole three meals in one," the Greek said with a smile.
"I will speak to the cook at once and he will soon have something ready
for you."
In a very short time they were served with a substantial meal to which
they all did full justice. As soon as it was finished, they returned to
the deck where they learned that the "Beauty" was already so far in the
lead of the fleet that sail had to be shortened.
With Manuel's aid the boys picked out their crews for the diving boat.
They found that many of the Greeks were familiar with gasoline engines
and they selected one of the youngest and most intelligent-looking for
an engineer. The four divers were, of course, allotted to their boat,
but besides them they had to have two men to work the air pump and two
others to tend to the life-lines, which made a crew of nine, besides
the young officers, and would leave only Captain Westfield, Chris and
the cook and five men on board the schooner.
The divers at once began preparations for their future dangerous work.
They examined pump and air hose very carefully, for a slight leak in
either one would mean death by suffocation beneath the surface. They
brought out their diving suits and went over them inch by inch for
possible rents or tears. Many of the suits were old and covered with
a multitude of rubber patches. The boys were amazed that their owners
would dare descend in such worn suits, but Manuel assured them that
the patches were so cunningly put on that not only would they exclude
water, but they would outlast the suit itself.
CHAPTER VI.
FIRST TROUBLE.
ONE of the sailors Charley had selected for his crew was the tall
handsome fellow whom the others seemed to shun.
"I can't understand what the rest have against him," the young captain
remarked to his chum. "He seems very quiet and well behaved, and he is
every inch a sailor. I would ask Manuel about him but it is bad policy
to discuss one of the crew with another. It always makes trouble.
Likely, Manuel would lie about him anyway, he seems to hate him, look
at him glaring at him now."
The Greek was leaning against the railing staring at the sailor who was
coiling down a rope near him. Suddenly the Greek addressed the man in a
low savage tone. The sailor's face grew red with anger, and he replied
shortly in a few hissing words. With a bound, the Greek cleared the
space between the two and struck the sailor full in the mouth. The man
reeled back against the main mast, but, recovering himself in a second,
sprang for his assailant. The Greek leaped to one side and whipped out
a long wicked knife.
Before he could use it, Captain Westfield, belaying pin in hand, rushed
in between the two.
"Put up that knife," he roared. "I'll do what fighting there is to be
done on this ship."
The Greek shot one quick glance at him, venomous with hate, then he
glanced beyond him at the two lads who waited expectantly with hands on
their pistols.
"He cursed me," he said sullenly, as he slowly replaced the knife in
his pocket.
"When anyone curses you, report it to me an' don't take the law in
your own hands. I'm master of this schooner, an' you might as well
understand it right off. Tell that fellow just what I've told you."
The sailor's face darkened as the Greek spoke to him rapidly, but he
turned slowly away and walked forward.
"That's a bad beginning," Charley remarked to his chum. "I wish we had
never seen that Greek. I believe he insulted that sailor. The fellow
was behaving himself and tending to his own business."
He repeated the remark to the captain a little later.
"I reckon you're right, lad," agreed the old sailor, "that Greek seems
to be a trouble-maker but he'll find he's got the wrong man to deal
with. I've handled too many crews of tough roughnecks to be bested by
a dirty furriner."
"I'll bet he will keep you busy with complaints," Walter said. "How
are you going to get at the truth of it if he does complain about the
others of the crew?"
"You'll see, I reckon, he will try something like that but I'm ready
for him."
Sure enough, in less than an hour the Greek approached the Captain.
"I hate to trouble you, but I must complain as you have directed," he
said suavely. "The cook, he is very abusive, I tried to instruct him
about your meals but he answers me with vile names."
"Bring the cook aft," Captain Westfield commanded.
Manuel escorted the bewildered-looking cook aft with a look of sly
triumph on his face.
The captain looked the man over appraisingly. He was a
broad-shouldered, well-muscled fellow. He spoke to him briefly but the
cook shook his head. He could not understand.
The old sailor picked up a rope and spread it in a big circle on the
deck.
"This insulting of you has got to be stopped right off," he declared,
addressing the interpreter. "Give me your knife."
The Greek surrendered his weapon.
"Now both of you get inside that ring and fight it out to a finish,"
he ordered. "Lick him good for calling you names."
Manuel's face fell, and, turning he spoke rapidly to the cook. "He has
apologized and my honor is satisfied," he declared.
"All right," the captain said with a wink at the grinning boys. "Next
time any one insults you, I am going to make you give him a good
licking in a square fist fight. I'm not agoing to let any of the crew
swear at you and call you names--it ain't right."
"I guess we won't have any more complaints from him right off," he
chuckled as the disappointed Greek retired forward.
"I'm afraid we're going to have more or less trouble through not
understanding their language," Charley said, gravely. "I don't believe
he had a bit of trouble with the cook. He was just aiming to have you
punish the fellow and get you disliked by the crew."
"I can handle him all right," the captain declared, confidently. "If he
gets troublesome I'll iron him and put him down in the hold. I reckon I
can make the rest understand what I want done by signs, though it would
be mighty awkward if a gale struck us."
The old sailor soon left the boys in charge of the deck and went below
to write up the log and look over the charts.
"If this wind holds we'll be on the edge of the sponging grounds by
night," he said when he returned. "I didn't realize before how big they
are. Why, they reach clear from Cedar Keys to Cape Sable, about seven
hundred miles."
"One thing that has puzzled me is that all these schooners seem to come
from Key West," Charley remarked, '"Of Key West' is lettered on the
stern of every one of them."
"Key West used to be the headquarters for the sponging business in
the old days," the captain explained. "They used to gather sponges
different from what they do now. A schooner would take out about
twenty small boats an' a crew of forty men. When she got to the sponge
grounds, the small boats would scatter out around her, two men in each
boat. One man would do the sculling and the other would lean over the
bow with a water glass in one hand--a pail with a pane of glass for
a bottom--and a long pole with a hook in the end in the other. When
he spied a sponge on the bottom through the glass he'd have the other
stop sculling and he would hook it up with his pole. It was slow, hard
work, but they made money at it until the Greeks came with their expert
divers. They could not compete with them so they either sold or leased
their schooners to the Greeks and went out of business."
The old sailor's explanation was interrupted by a howl of "Oh, Golly!"
from the cook' galley forward and Chris, dripping with water, bounded
out of the open door of the little structure, and rushed aft.
"I want you to put dat cook in irons, Massa Captain," he cried. "He's
done 'saulted his superior officer."
"What did he do to you," the captain asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Throwed a hull pan of dirty, nasty dishwater obber me. I was jus'
tellin' him how he had outer do, an' tryin' to show de ignorant man how
to cook, when--slosh--he let fly dat big pan full all obber me."
The dirty water was streaming from the little negro's brilliant
clothing and his face was streaked with purple from his cap.
The captain checked his desire to laugh.
"The cook did just right," he said, gravely. "You've got no business
in his galley. A cook is always boss there. Even the Captain seldom
interferes with him."
Chris seemed inclined to protest indignantly, but the old sailor
continued.
"How would you like to be cook an' have some one poking around an'
tellin' you what to do?"
"Golly! I reckon you is right," the little darkey admitted, "I wouldn't
stand such doin's. 'Spect dough dat my good clothes is all spoiled.
Dat water was powerful greasy."
"Better dry them out and lay them away," Walter suggested. "They are
too fine to wear at sea. You had ought to save them 'till we get in
port."
Both boys were glad when Chris accepted the suggestion. They could see
that the crew regarded the little fellow in his gay apparel with a
contempt and ridicule that the plucky, loyal little lad did not deserve.
Under her shortened canvas, the "Beauty" had dropped to the rear of the
fleet. Late in the afternoon the schooners ahead began to shorten sail.
Soon one rounded up into the wind, dropped anchor and lowered sail.
A mile further on another one anchored, a mile beyond another took
in sail, until at last the whole fleet was strung out in a long line
reaching many miles North and South.
The captain held the "Beauty" on her course until the last schooner was
passed then anchored, lowered sails and made everything snug.
"We are on the sponging grounds," he explained to the boys who had been
puzzled by the fleet's maneuvers. "To-morrow we make our first try as
spongers."
As soon as their supper was finished the boys strolled forward to view
the crew at their meal.
The Greeks ate in groups of four. Each group had a great tin pan filled
with some kind of stew. This they divided into four equal portions
with their big spoons, all eating from the same pan.
The stew, black bread as hard as a rock, and ripe olives constituted
their meal, but the boys, hearty eaters themselves, were astounded at
the amount of food each Greek disposed of.
"I never dreamed a man could stow away so much grub," Charley remarked.
"They are not eating three meals in one, but six."
CHAPTER VII.
SPONGING.
THE morning sun rose over a scene of bustle and activity. From the
hundred schooners strung out two or three hundred diving boats with
sails hoisted and engines chugging.
The young officers were up and away with the earliest.
"Go slow," Captain Westfield cautioned them as they stepped aboard
their craft. "Keep your eyes open an' learn all you can. Don't give any
orders unless they are absolutely needed. But if you have to give them
an order make them obey it, don't let them trifle with you. You can
take Manuel along if you want to, I reckon I can manage to get along
without him."
But the boys declined the offer. They had both taken a great dislike to
the suave, smiling Greek.
The Captain had given their crew general instructions before they left
the schooner and the young officers had but little to do but signify by
waves of their hands which direction they wished to go.
All places looked alike to the inexperienced boys, and as soon as their
craft was a quarter of a mile from the schooner, Charley signed to his
crew to anchor and proceed with their work.
The divers at once prepared for their descent to the bottom. The lead
was first hove to find out the depth of the water, which proved to
be about thirty-five feet. Before donning their waterproof suits,
the divers tested the air pump carefully and examined the air hose
minutely, for upon these two things their lives would depend when once
they sank beneath the surface. While they were putting on the strange
looking suits and heavy leaded shoes, the crew slung short ladders
over the sides. The divers put on their headpieces last of all, these
were large globe-shaped coverings of metal with two heavy glasses in
front through which to see. But two divers were to descend at a time.
Their places would be taken by two others at the end of two hours,
which is about as long as one can safely work at a time beneath the
surface. Those in reserve assisted their companions in adjusting the
heavy headpieces. As soon as the helmets were on they screwed in the
air hose, and connected the other ends to the pumps. A line by which to
lower and raise them was fastened around each diver's body and he was
then assisted onto the ladder, for it was almost impossible for them to
move in their cumbersome suits and lead shoes. As soon as they had been
helped to the lowest step on the ladder, each was given a large basket
to which a long line had been fastened, and they were slowly and gently
lowered to the bottom.
The young officers watched their operations with eager interest.
What impressed them most was the vigilant care shown by the divers
remaining on board. One took charge of the tub in which the air hose
was coiled and paid it out carefully as the diver sank, the other held
the life-line instantly ready for the jerks which would signal to him
the wishes of the one below. Not once did either's eyes shift or his
attention waver from his task.
"It's easy to see that this is a dangerous business," Walter remarked.
"Yes," his chum agreed, "I am beginning to see that Mr. Williams was
right when he said sponging was a man's game. It certainly takes nerve
to descend like those divers have, knowing that there is nothing
between them and death but that little air hose. But have you noticed
how they are treating that strange handsome fellow? They all seem to be
afraid to have him near."
The mysterious sailor had approached the men working the air pumps,
apparently with the purpose of helping with the pumping, but the
pumpers drove him away with menacing gestures and upraised fists. He
moved over near the coiled air hose but the diver in charge of that met
him with a torrent of fiercely-uttered words and he slunk dejectedly
forward, and, seating himself by the mast, buried his face in his
hands.
"Poor chap," Walter remarked, "he seems to be hated by the whole crew.
I wonder what is the reason."
"We will find out, I guess, when we meet up with Mr. Williams again,"
his chum replied. "He will likely know, or be able to find out quickly
from some of his crew. But look, we are about to see our first sponges."
There had been a couple of quick jerks on the life-line. The diver
holding it called to one of the crew who seized the line that had been
attached to the basket, and began hauling it carefully in hand over
hand.
The boys leaned over the side, eager for the first glimpse of their
future cargo. When the basket came into view they both uttered an
exclamation of disgust and disappointment.
Instead of bright, clean, yellow sponges with which they were familiar,
the basket was heaped with what looked like huge lumps of dirty mud.
The man dumped the contents out on deck and lowered the basket down
again.
"What greenies we are," Charley said as he glanced at his chum's
crestfallen face. "We might have known if we had stopped to think, that
sponges have to be cleaned and cured before they look like those we saw
on shore. I expect that pile is worth a lot of money in spite of its
unattractive appearance."
Five times did the basket appear loaded to the brim before the divers'
two hour spell below expired. As soon as their time was up they were
hauled aboard, their suits removed and the other two took their places.
"Whew, but I am getting hungry," Walter exclaimed as noon time drew
near, "and we came off from the schooner without bringing a lunch with
us."
"I am glad we did," Charley said. "It's all right having our meals
regular when we are on board the schooner and out of sight of the crew,
but it would hardly seem right to eat now before these hungry fellows.
I guess we can stand it to go without dinner of they can stand it to go
without both dinner and breakfast. Besides, I don't believe I could eat
any lunch if we had it. Whew, but that smell is getting awful."
The hot sun was getting in its work on the rapidly increasing pile of
sponges on deck. Adhering to them were multitudes of muscles and little
fish which were beginning to send forth a fearful stench.
"I am beginning to realize that a sponger's life is anything but a bed
of roses," Walter laughed. "It's easy to understand now why they only
eat one meal a day."
The novelty of the diving operations soon wore off and the boys, to
pass the time, busied themselves with an attempt to learn something of
the Greek language. They selected the engineer for their teacher. He
was a young fellow with an intelligent, good-humored face and seemed to
take great interest in their efforts. Touching different parts of the
boat and engine the boys repeated the English names for them. The young
fellow grasped the idea instantly and repeated the names in Greek,
laughing heartily over their attempts to pronounce the words after him.
In this manner the time passed quickly and pleasantly and the lads were
delighted with the rapid progress they made.
"At this rate we will be able to speak the language a little in a
week's time," Charley declared. "I'm--" but he never finished the
sentence.
From around them rose cries that brought the lads springing to their
feet.
The crew were all crowded against the rail staring as if fascinated
over the side, while the diver holding one of the life-lines was
hauling it in with feverish energy.
As the boys sprang to the rail, the diver's headpiece appeared above
the surface One glance, and they understood the reason for the sudden
commotion--from the metal helmet dangled a short piece of severed air
hose.
The luckless man was quickly dragged aboard, the head-piece quickly
removed, and his rubber clothing cut away, but his eyes were closed and
his face purple--he was dead. A long, weird, prolonged wailing came
from his shipmates which arose and fell strangely, like the strains of
the mournful death march.
The two chums gazed at each other with pale, horror-stricken faces.
"Poor fellow," Walter murmured, "His life went out like a candle in a
gale. Alive one minute, dead the next. What could have cut that hose?"
"Chafed against a sharp branch of coral or bitten in two by a shark,"
Charley replied, sadly. "Well, I guess it means the last of our
sponging, the other divers will hardly want to go down after such an
accident, and I don't blame them."
But, to his amazement, as soon as the wailing chant ceased, one of the
remaining divers began coolly to prepare to take the dead man's place.
"My, but those fellows have got nerve," he declared, admiringly, but
he stopped the man as he began to put on his diving suit and by signs
ordered the crew to get up anchor and return to the schooner.
"It's only a couple of hours to dark and we have had enough for one day
anyway," he remarked to his chum.
When the diving boat reached the schooner his shipmates prepared the
dead man for burial. The body was sewed up in stout canvas and a piece
of iron fastened to it. It was then gently lowered over the side and
sank slowly beneath the waves.
With its disappearance all vestige of gloom disappeared from the crew.
The dead man's scanty belongings were brought forth and auctioned off
to the various bidders, and an hour after the crew were chatting and
laughing with each other as cheerfully as ever.
"Mr. Williams was right, this is a man's game, and a game for rough,
fearless men only," Walter remarked thoughtfully, for a second time.
CHAPTER VIII.
TROUBLE.
AFTER the crew had eaten their supper and rested a bit, the captain
had them transfer the sponges from the diving boat to the deck of the
schooner. The sponges made quite an imposing pile which the old sailor
surveyed with satisfaction. "You've done well to-day," he remarked,
"if every day's work is as good we'll have a valuable cargo before our
three months are up. I reckon, thar's all of two hundred dollars' worth
of sponges in that heap."
"Are you sure that you know how to clean and cure them right?" Charley
enquired.
"I don't, but Chris knows that part of the business from A to Z. Where
he comes from the people live by sponging and pearl fishing."
"Golly, dat's right," observed the little darkey. "I'se helped my daddy
fix sponges many a time. First off, you'se got to beat de mud out ob
dem wid sticks, den you got to let dem lay foah a day or two to die,
'cause dey's alive jus' like fishes. When dey's good an' dead, you puts
dem in nets an' hangs dem ober de side for de water to wash dem out
clean. Den you dry dem out on deck an' string dem out on strings 'bout
two yards long. Dat makes dem all ready for market 'cept for clipping
de bad parts off of dem, which is done on shore. Dar ain't nothin'
'bout fixin' up sponges dat dis nigger doan know."
Just then a small boat came alongside the schooner and the boys
hastened to the side to welcome the two men it contained. They were
the captain and mate of the schooner anchored nearest to the "Beauty".
Both were young fellows hardly out of their teens. They introduced
themselves as Steve Ward, and Ray Lowe.
"We thought we'd drop over and have a little chat with you," said Ward,
who was the captain. "You, of course, don't realize it yet, but an
American face looks mighty good amongst this army of Greeks, especially
after one has been out for a month or two. We all start out together
but before the season ends we get pretty widely scattered and to meet
up with another schooner with an American aboard is like coming across
a long-lost brother. This is my fifth trip and I am getting pretty
well hardened to the loneliness now, but the first time I was out I
nearly went crazy. After we parted from the rest of the fleet, it was
worse than being alone on a desert island, for I had the misery of
seeing others talk, laugh and enjoy themselves without being able to
understand a word. When, at last, we came across a ship with someone
aboard I could talk to I nearly cried for joy. It seemed so good to be
able to understand and make myself understood once more." His glance
fell upon Manuel George, who was leaning against the rail, and his gray
eyes narrowed.
"What made you bring that fellow with you?" he asked.
"We had to have someone along who could talk their lingo," Captain
Westfield replied. "Do you know him?"
"I don't know anything good of him," said the other shortly. "I came
near killing him once and I've always half regretted that I didn't do
it. It was on my first trip," he explained. "It was just such another
case as that young fellow's who was arrested the other day. Although I
was captain, the Greeks owned the schooner, and, because I was young
and inexperienced, they got the idea they could run over me and do
as they pleased. Manuel was always stirring them up and encouraging
them to disobey orders. One day I had some words with him about it,
and,"--the young fellow's face darkened--"well, he carries a bullet
in his leg yet. The others set on me and I had to lock myself up in
the cabin. Likely, they would have got me in the end and thrown me
overboard to feed the sharks, but we happened to come across another
schooner and they had to let me go."
"He don't want to try any tricks with me," Captain Westfield declared.
"I got him to talk their lingo but had him sign on as one of the
crew. If he tries to act up, I'll put him at the hardest work on the
schooner."
"Well, keep your eye on him," advised the other. "He has never made a
trip yet without making trouble. He's a mighty bad egg and as sly and
cunning as he is mean."
The two men remained for over two hours, and from them the little party
learned many new and interesting things about their new business and
about the Greeks.
"We have no reason to complain of a dull trip so far," Charley said,
when the two Americans had left. "Only two days out and one of our crew
is dead, another is supposed to be on the watch to make us trouble, and
a third is a mystery worth solving, judging from the way the others
treat him. If things keep on as they have started, we will have a
voyage exciting enough to satisfy anyone."
If the lad could have known of the exciting events soon to follow close
on each other's heels, he would have had even less reason to complain
of dullness.
The next day's sponging was the same as the first. They seemed to have
happened upon a spot where the sponges were unusually plentiful. The
basket came frequently to the surface loaded with the big mud-covered
masses and by nightfall the diving boat's deck was well covered. All
day the two lads persisted in their attempt to learn the Greek names
for the things about them. By night Charley was able to direct the
operation of getting under way for the schooner. Of course, he was yet
unable to construct sentences in Greek, but he could call the Greek
names for sails, anchor, and different parts of the rigging and the
crew managed to guess the rest. Though it was a crude and imperfect way
of giving orders, it succeeded better than the slow, imperfect signs he
had been obliged to depend upon before.
"If we keep on as fast, we will be able to make them understand us well
within two weeks," he declared gleefully.
It was still light enough for them to see distinctly when they reached
the schooner, and they looked about them with regret as they climbed
aboard. Her snow-white decks were filthy from the pounding out of the
sponges, and bulwarks, sails and rigging were spattered with the foul
mud, while the strong, rank odor of dead fish hung heavy in the air.
Chris and the captain had just knocked off work. Their faces, hands and
clothing were black as soot. The old sailor's face showed set and stern
through its coating of mud. He said little until all were washed up and
seated around the supper table.
"Well, lads, I reckon our troubles have begun," he remarked, grimly.
"Manuel an' I had a row to-day."
"What about? How did it come out?" the boys questioned, eagerly.
"I told him to help us with the sponge cleaning and he refused to do
it. When I insisted he flew into a rage, cursed me, an' shook his fist
in my face. I couldn't stand for that an' he's down in the hold now
with the irons on him."
"Well, I feel easier with him there than with him mixing in with the
crew," Charley declared.
"My row with him ain't the worst of the matter," the old sailor said
gravely. "I called on the crew to help me iron him and they all
pretended they didn't understand my sign, but they knew what I wanted
all right. I had to handle him alone an' we had quite a struggle
before I got the best of him." He rolled up his sleeve and showed an
ugly-looking cut on his arm. "He came near getting me with his knife
an' I had to give him a couple of taps with a belaying pin. That cut
don't amount to anything, but what worries me is that the crew stood
around an' watched him try to kill me without interfering--it's a
mighty bad sign."
"That does look bad," Charley agreed, anxiously. "I guess we had better
keep him a close prisoner and not let any of the crew go near him, he
might try to stir them up and make things hot for us."
"But that means that someone will have to guard him an' carry his meals
to him. It wouldn't do to have one of the Greeks do it, I reckon."
"No," Charley agreed, thoughtfully, "but I believe I've got the very
man for the job--that handsome fellow the others seem to hate so.
Manuel tried to kill him and he is not likely to be easy with him."
The mysterious sailor was at once sent for by Ben. As soon as he came
the captain loaded a tray with food and a bottle of water and signed
for him to carry it and follow him. Charley and Walter accompanied the
two.
As they passed along the deck on their way to the hold, they met angry
glances and frowns from the crew.
The mysterious sailor was very intelligent and they soon made him
understand that he was to guard the prisoner. He grinned with enjoyment
and, seating himself a little way from the Greek, took out his long
keen sheath knife and laid it handy beside him.
The prisoner's face grew black with rage at sight of his guard, but he
maintained a sulky silence.
"I guess he's safe enough now," the captain said as they returned to
their cabin. "I believe that fellow will guard him faithfully. They
seem to hate each other like poison--I wish I knew the reason for it."
"It would not seem so strange if the hatred was confined to him and
Manuel, but all the others seem to share in the feeling," Charley
remarked. "It seems very queer to me."
CHAPTER IX.
MANUEL'S RELEASE.
BEFORE the boys left the schooner next morning, the guard they had set
over Manuel approached the captain, and by signs and gestures intimated
that the prisoner wished to speak to him.
Manuel's sullen demeanor had entirely disappeared and he looked humble
and penitent.
"I wish to make my most humble apologies to you, noble captain," he
declared. "All night long I have thought over my hasty actions with
shame and regret. You were right and I wrong. I will work hard at
whatever you set me to do, and in the future you will have no cause to
complain if you will set me at liberty."
There were tears in the fellow's eyes and his voice trembled as he
spoke.
"Stop that blubbering," said the blunt old sailor, who detested tears
in men. "I reckon, if you are sure that you've learned your lesson an'
won't try to act smart again, I'll set you free; but the minute you try
to start any trouble again, I'll put you down here for keeps."
As he removed the irons from the prisoner, the strange sailor burst
into a torrent of passionate speech.
The captain paid no attention to him for he could not understand a
word of it, but Charley, who was watching closely, saw Manuel give the
fellow a quick glance of sly triumph.
"I'm afraid you have made a mistake in setting that fellow free,
Captain," the lad said, as they returned to the deck. "I believe it
would have been wiser to have kept him in irons until we could touch
some port and put him ashore."
"I never feel like being hard on a man when he's sorry for what he has
done," the old sailor replied. "I guess it will make the crew feel
better tempered to have him set free. I'm going to put him ashore at
the first port we touch. In the meanwhile we'll keep him hard at work
an' keep a eye on him all the time."
"Perhaps we had better take him with us and put him to work at the
pump," Walter suggested. "That's good hard work."
Charley approved the suggestion, for in spite of the Greek's seeming
repentance, the lad did not trust him in the least and thought it
wisest that he and the captain should be kept separated for awhile
after their quarrel.
Manuel went at the hard labor at the air pump with a willingness and
cheerfulness which seemed to show the sincerity of his repentance. At
first, he seemed inclined to talk overmuch with the rest of the crew,
but Charley cut short his talkativeness with a curt command.
"I believe that fellow is a regular Jonah," he confided to his chum
during the noon hour rest. "Yesterday and the day before we got lots of
sponges, but we haven't taken in enough this morning to pay expenses."
"I guess this part of the ground is getting worked out, perhaps,"
Walter replied. "I've noticed several schooners pulling up anchor and
getting under way."
His surmise proved correct for during the afternoon many of the fleet
passed them headed North. Evidently others were finding the ground as
poor as they did.
Late in the afternoon the captain recalled them to the schooner with a
signal previously agreed upon,--a flag hoisted to the foremast head.
"I reckon we'd better be getting under way," the old sailor said when
they got aboard. "I want to keep with the fleet an' all the schooners
seem to be getting under sail. I've noted the course they are takin'
an' with this wind they'll be a long ways from us if we wait until
morning. I hailed one of the captains and he said they intended to sail
all night an' anchor an' get to work early in the morning."
By the time the sails were all hoisted and the anchor tripped, it had
grown quite dark so the schooner's great side-lights of red and green
were filled, lit, and lashed to the foremast shrouds, for, with so many
boats around them every caution must be taken to avoid running one
down, or being run down themselves. The crew was divided into three
watches. Of which Walter was to have charge of the first, from eight to
twelve o'clock. Charley to have command of the second, or middle watch,
from twelve to four o'clock, while the captain would take the third, or
morning watch, from four to eight A. M.
The breeze held steady and strong and the night passed away without any
exciting incident.
The boys were up again at first peep of day, expecting to have to start
out with the diving boat as soon as the sun arose. But, when they
gained the deck, they found the "Beauty" still swinging along on her
course and the captain pacing the deck greatly perplexed.
"It's mighty queer, but thar ain't one of the fleet in sight," he
exclaimed as he caught sight of the lads. "I don't understand it at
all. Go aloft, Charley, an' see if you can see any of them."
The lad swung himself into the shrouds and made his way up to the
mainmast cross trees, but, although he gazed all around, his eyes met
nothing but the broad expanse of the blue sparkling waters.
"Maybe we've run them all out of sight during the night," he suggested
when he regained the deck, but the old sailor shook his head.
"The 'Beauty's' mighty fast, but she's not speedy enough to do that,"
he declared. "Some of those schooners were ten miles ahead of us when
we started. Besides, I shortened sail as soon as I took my watch,
because I did not want to get in the lead."
"Perhaps we have dropped away behind the rest," Walter said, but the
others knew that that was impossible. The "Beauty" was far too fast a
boat to be left so far behind.
The Captain examined the log. "We have come a hundred and ten miles,"
he said. "Do you reckon either of you boys could have made a mistake in
the course during your watch?"
"We didn't vary a quarter of a point from the direction you gave during
my four hours," Charley declared. "I kept watch of the compass most of
the time and the needle held steady at North."
"I was careful about that, also," Walter said. "We were headed exactly
North during my entire watch."
"Well, that compass is true," the captain declared. "I tested it
carefully before we left port. I reckon thar's only one explanation;
the fleet must have changed their course during the night. We'd better
heave-to until noon when I can take the sun an' tell exactly where we
are at. It ain't no use trying to pick up the fleet again, now they
are out of sight--it would be like hunting for a needle in a hay stack."
The crew were immediately set to taking in sail and in a few minutes
the little ship was lying head to the wind under reefed foresail sail.
When the noon hour drew near, Captain Westfield brought his instruments
on deck and prepared to take an observation of the sun. As soon as he
secured it he went below to work out their position on the chart.
When he reappeared his face wore a very puzzled expression. "Heave the
lead and find out how deep the water is an' what kind of bottom," he
said, briefly.
Charley took the lead, a heavy cone-shaped piece of lead, slightly
hollowed at the bottom, and with a long line attached to the small
end. Filling the hollow end with soft soap, he dropped the lead over
the side and let it sink until it struck the bottom. Then he pulled it
aboard again, noting carefully the water mark on the line and examining
the soap to which some particles of the bottom had adhered.
"Depth, six fathoms, (36 feet) bottom, soft gray mud," he announced.
The captain strode back to the compass and stared at it with a puzzled
frown on his face.
"We're forty miles from where we should be," he said as the boys
gathered around him, "Sure neither of you boys made a mistake in the
course last night?"
"Sure," declared both lads positively.
The four puzzled over the strange situation in silence for several
minutes. Then the captain with his knife loosened the screws and
removed the compass' face of glass.
"I wonder how that got there," he suddenly exclaimed.
Cunningly placed, so as to draw the magnetic needle West of North was a
small bright iron nail.
"It couldn't have got there by itself," Charley declared, excitedly.
"It must have been put there by someone while we were all at supper
last night."
"I guess there is no doubt as to who that someone was," with an
inclination of his head towards Manuel who, standing a little ways off
was watching them closely. The Greek, as soon as he saw the attention
he was receiving, turned and strolled carelessly forward.
The captain pondered gravely, "I don't see what his object was," he
said, at last. "If we held on that course long it would only have
carried us further out into the Gulf, so he couldn't have been aiming
to get us wrecked."
"He planned to get us separated from the fleet," Charley declared. "Do
you think we could find it again, captain?"
The old sailor shook his head. "There's no telling where we are now,"
he said, gloomily, "we might hunt for days without coming across them.
If that fellow did put that nail there to make us lose them, he's
succeeded all right."
"What had we better do, captain?" Walter asked, anxiously.
"Well, we aint got no real proof that the fellow put that nail thar so
we can't do anything with him. It might have been in thar all the time,
though I'm willing to take an oath that the compass was true when we
left port. Thar ain't much chance of picking up the fleet again an' I
don't reckon we'd better waste time trying it. The lead shows we are
still on the sponge banks an' I reckon we'd best just get to work, say
nothing, an' keep a close watch on that oil Greek chap."
The "Beauty" was anchored accordingly, sails lowered and furled, and
everything made snug. As soon as that was done, the boys ordered their
crew into the diving boat and, running out a little ways from the
schooner, gave the signal to resume the diving operations.
By sheer accident, they had chanced upon a spot rich in sponges and the
lads watched with satisfaction the steady reappearance of the lowered
basket.
CHAPTER X.
A RASH RESOLVE.
THE boys watched Manuel closely throughout the entire afternoon, but
they could detect nothing amiss in his manner or actions. He did
his work willingly and cheerfully, humming a tune most of the time,
apparently he was at peace with himself and the world.
They were not the only ones who watched the Greek closely. Whenever the
lads glanced at the handsome sailor, they found him gazing intently at
the suspected man, much as a cat watches a mouse, ready to spring at
its slightest movement.
The boys kept well apart from the crew, watchful for any threatened
outbreak on their part. But the men seemed so cheerful, willing and
contented that they soon grew ashamed of their distrust.
Once the handsome sailor approached them respectfully, hat in hand,
and, halting before them, spoke rapidly in a low voice. The lads shook
their heads to show that they did not understand, and, with a look of
helpless resignation on his face, the fellow returned to his work.
"I wish we could understand what he says," Charley said, wistfully.
"He, evidently, has something important he wishes to tell us."
"We will be able to make out what he says before long," Walter said,
cheerfully. "We are learning lots of new words every day."
"Yes, we are getting along pretty well," his chum agreed, "but we
are not picking up the language near as well as Chris. It's really
wonderful how fast he is learning."
The little negro and the Greek boy had become great friends and Chris,
naturally quick witted, was learning with astonishing rapidity to talk
to his new chum.
"It's the best day we've had yet," Charley declared as they returned
to the schooner in the evening. "We have got as many sponges this
afternoon as we have during any entire day."
Captain Westfield was elated over their success. "It's turned out all
right after all," he said. "We've stumbled upon a mighty rich part of
the banks, an' I reckon, we ain't lost the fleet either, as we feared,
thar's some twenty sails coming up from the South'ard."
The vessels, which the boys had not noticed before, were approaching
rapidly, coming before the stiff breeze. Before dark settled down, they
were plainly visible but the eager watchers could not recognize any
of them, they seemed larger schooners than any they had seen in the
fleet. The strangers anchored for the night near the "Beauty" and the
captain got out his night glass and studied them carefully.
"They ain't any of the fleet," he declared with keen disappointment.
"They're Spanish smacks from Cuba. They fish around this coast
regularly every season."
"Well, they'll be some company, anyway, as long as they stay near us,"
Charley said, cheerfully. "I can speak Spanish if I can't Greek, we can
go over and call on them in the morning. I'd like to go to-night, but I
feel too tired out to move."
Soon after supper, Manuel approached Captain Westfield, respectfully.
"We would like to go aboard the schooners, if you will permit," he
requested. "We are nearly out of tobacco and the Cubans always carry a
lot for which we can trade."
The old sailor thought for a few minutes. "You can go," he said,
shortly, "you an' one man. Take the dingy. I don't want the diving boat
used. An' be sure you're back aboard early."
The Greek thanked him effusively for the permission, and, calling one
of his shipmates, the two got the schooner's little boat over the side
and sculled away for the nearest smack.
"They have got plenty of tobacco," growled the captain, as soon as the
two were out of hearing. "Thar was enough sent aboard at Tarpon to last
them for months. I reckon he's figuring on deserting, that's why I let
him go. I'd be willing to lose the boat and the other man to be well
rid of him."
It seemed that the old sailor was correct for when eight o'clock came
Manuel had not returned.
"After what happened last night, I don't reckon it's wise to leave the
deck alone," the captain said as the boys prepared to retire to their
bunks. "One of us had ought to keep watch to see that no one monkeys
with the wheel or compass."
Walter offered to take the first watch from eight to twelve, and,
leaving him pacing back and forth aft of the mainmast, the others
retired to rest.
Charley was awakened by a vigorous shaking and his chum's voice calling
to him to get up.
"My watch so soon," grumbled the lad sleepily, "Seems like I just got
to sleep."
"It's only eleven o'clock," said Walter in excited tones, "but Manuel
came aboard an hour ago very drunk. He must have brought liquor with
him for they are all raising merry Ned in the forecastle now. The
captain and Chris are on deck. Hurry up, there's likely to be trouble
any minute."
Charley slipped hastily into his clothing and securing his revolver
ran on deck. His three companions with revolvers in their hands were
ranged across the deck just aft of the mainmast. From the forecastle,
forward, came an uproar of shouting, cursing, and fighting.
The old sailor was blaming himself, bitterly. "I'd ought to have
thought of it," he exclaimed, "Auguident is cheap as water in Cuba an'
those smacks always carry a lot of it to trade off for other things.
What an old fool I was."
"What shall we do?" Charley asked.
"Nothing, but let 'em fight it out amongst themselves an' keep 'em
from crowding aft on us. Our lives wouldn't be worth a pinch of snuff
if we went down to quiet them. If any of 'em tries to come aft of the
mainmast, shoot him."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a figure burst out of the
forecastle and came running aft followed by several others staggering,
shouting and cursing.
The captain raised his pistol and took deliberate aim as the flying man
drew near.
"Stop, or I'll shoot," he commanded.
Charley knocked aside his upraised arm. "Let him pass," he cried, "it's
the strange sailor, they have been trying to kill him."
The handsome fellow was bleeding from a dozen knife wounds, and was
breathing short and heavily. As he reached the little party of chums,
he turned about and faced his pursuers. It was evident that he did not
lack courage.
The pursuing Greeks stopped short at sight of the little band stretched
across the deck with leveled revolvers. For a minute they seemed about
to dash forward regardless of consequences, but, after a moment's
hesitation, with a volley of curses they turned and slunk back to the
forecastle. They were yet sober enough to realize the danger of open
mutiny.
"I don't think they'll try to bother us," said the captain with a sigh
of relief. "They ain't drunk enough for that yet, an' I reckon they've
about drank up all their liquor by now. It wouldn't last long amongst
so many of them."
The strange sailor had sunk to the deck in a dead faint, and, leaving
the boys to guard the deck, the Captain and Chris carried him below,
and, laying him in one of the bunks, hurried back to their companions.
"He ain't going to die," the old sailor informed them. "He's just weak
from loss of blood. I didn't take time to look him over close, but I
counted nineteen knife cuts on his body an' likely thar's some I didn't
notice."
"We will have to keep him back aft with us. They would likely kill
him if we sent him back to the forecastle, for he is unable to defend
himself now," Charley said, and his chums agreed with him.
The uproar in the forecastle continued for a long time then gradually
subsided. Evidently, the crew had disposed of the last of the liquor
and its effects were slowly wearing off.
Not until four o'clock, however, did the last noise cease, and the
little party of chums remained on deck until the sun rose, ready for
any violence from the drunken Greeks. Daylight found them pale and
tired from their long, anxious vigil.
"Better go below, lads, and have a good nap," the captain advised.
"They have all quieted down and there is no danger of trouble for the
present. They are going to feel mighty sick and weak from the drink."
"I'm not going to give them a chance to sleep off their bad feelings,"
declared Charley, grimly. "My crew have got to turn to and work as
usual. I'm going to turn them out as soon as Ben awakes."
When the little Greek lad appeared, looking pale and frightened,
Charley sent him below to rouse Manuel.
The lad, apparently, did not relish the task but he went, and, after a
long time, reappeared accompanied by the Greek.
Manuel plainly showed the effects of the liquor. He looked sick and
haggard and one eye was much discolored from a blow he had received. He
was ready, however, with an excuse for the night's disorder. "I did my
best to stop the noise and trouble, and it was thus I received a blow
in the eye."
"You were drunk when you came aboard," accused Walter.
"I took a drink on the schooner," admitted Manuel, "only one little
drink. It was foolish, for I am unused to liquor and it went to my
legs, but my head was clear. I regret the disorder of the others."
There was no doubt in the minds of the captain and the boys that he was
really the author of all the trouble, but they could not prove it and
Charley dismissed him with a curt command to call the crew.
They were a sick-looking crowd when they were at last collected on
deck. All showed the effect of the liquor and many were the black
eyes and bruised faces. Their fighting humor seemed to have departed,
however, and they went about their tasks quietly, sullenly, and
listlessly.
After they had finished their morning coffee, Charley ordered his crew
into the diving boat and set out for the spot where they had found so
many sponges.
CHAPTER XI.
A MYSTERY.
THE two boys kept well apart from the crew, and watched closely for
any signs of threatened trouble, but, although the men looked sullen
and ugly enough for any kind of act, they seemed much subdued and went
about their tasks quietly saying little, even to each other.
"I guess we are giving ourselves a lot of worry without cause," Walter
remarked, softly. "Those fellows seem quiet enough now. It was the
liquor that made them act as they did last night, but they have drank
it all up now and I do not believe we will have any more trouble with
them."
"I wish I could agree with you," his chum said, gravely, "but I can't.
I believe in the old Latin proverb--'in vino veritas'--there is
truth in wine. I've always noticed that when a man gets intoxicated,
he reveals just the kind of man he really is. If he is naturally
quarrelsome when sober he is sure to want to fight when drinking. If he
is good-hearted and kind when sober, he is generally good-humored when
drunk. Liquor seems to destroy a man's caution and make him reveal his
real character. Now these fellows showed plainly their feelings towards
us last night when they were drinking. To-day they are sober and more
cautious, but I believe they feel just the same towards us. It only
needs some real or fancied wrong to bring their hatred to the surface
again. I believe if we had a clash with one of them now we would have a
first-class mutiny on our hands; but, I guess, we had not better do any
more whimpering. They will suspect that we are discussing them and it
will not improve matters any."
For awhile the sponges came up from below every half hour, but towards
noon a full hour went by without the basket making its appearance. The
lads, at last, became somewhat alarmed at the delay.
"Do you suppose they are in any trouble down below?" Charley enquired
of Manuel.
The Greek shook his head. "They would have signaled if anything had
been wrong. There, they are signaling now."
There came several jerks on the life-lines and the Greeks in charge of
them pulled the divers up and into the boat. The men had been below
for only an hour and the boys were puzzled to account for their coming
up before their time had expired. When their head-pieces were removed
the lads could see that the divers were greatly excited. They spoke
rapidly to those around them, and a hum of excited conversation arose
from the before listless crew.
"What's the matter?" Charley demanded of Manuel, who seemed to be the
most excited of all.
"It is nothing," was the quick reply. "The men grew faint for a minute
but they will be all right soon. That often happens to one when diving."
The Greek's excitement was too great for such a trivial cause and
Charley decided promptly that he was lying.
In a few minutes the divers resumed their head-pieces and prepared to
descend again. As they stood on the ladders one of the crew handed one
of them a coil of light rope to the end of which was attached a piece
of light wood.
"What does he want with that buoy?" Charley demanded, sharply.
"There's a bad hole in the bottom which he wishes to mark so that there
will be no danger of his blundering into it," replied Manuel promptly,
but, again, Charley decided that the fellow was lying.
"There's something in the wind," he remarked to Walter. "The crew seem
greatly excited, and Manuel, I am sure, is lying."
A strange change had suddenly taken place in the crew's manner. Before,
they had been silent, sullen and listless, now, they were animated,
their eyes glittered with excitement, and they chattered back and forth
like so many magpies.
Manuel evidently noticed that the boys were watching them closely,
for he addressed them in a low tone and their chattering ceased. They
resumed their work with something like a return of their former manner,
but it was easy to see that their sullenness was now assumed.
The lads turned their attention to the course the diver was taking, and
watched for the appearance of the buoy which would show the whereabouts
of the bad place on the bottom. The bit of wood soon floated into view
not a hundred feet from the boat.
Apparently, the divers were still suffering from their faintness, for
it was a long time after they descended before the first basket load of
sponges appeared, and it was nearly an hour before the second one was
hoisted aboard.
"We are not getting many to-day," Walter grumbled. "If we don't do
better pretty soon, we had better move and try another place."
"There is something queer doing," Charley declared. "Just watch those
life-lines and see what you make of it."
The ropes which were fastened to the divers showed plainly the
direction taken by the men below. The lines were kept faintly taut
to permit of the signals being clearly felt, and their slant gave an
accurate idea of just where the divers were working.
Walter watched for awhile, a puzzled frown gathering on his face.
"Why," he exclaimed, "they are right on that bad part of bottom, and
they haven't stirred for the last fifteen minutes."
The lads continued to watch the tell-tale lines. For another fifteen
minutes the ropes remained motionless, then from their twitching it
became evident that the divers were once more moving around. In a short
time thereafter, the usual signal was given and two baskets of sponges
were hoisted up.
"That's got me puzzled," said Charley, as the peculiar performance was
repeated. "I guess we had better appear not to have noticed it. The
crew is not looking at us in a very friendly way."
The attitude of the Greeks seemed to be growing hostile. Many were the
unfriendly glances they cast at the two lads and the boys could hear
their names repeated in the low-toned conversation going on.
The two lads retired to the bow where, though they effected to be
taking their ease, they kept on the alert for the first signs of
trouble.
Though nothing happened to further arouse their fears, it was a trying
situation and both were glad when the time came to return to the
schooner.
They found the captain and Chris both tired from a hard day's labor
cleaning sponges. The wounded sailor was sitting back by the wheel,
looking somewhat pale and haggard, but not a great deal the worse for
his many wounds.
"His troubles' been sorter praying on his mind all day," said the
captain. "He got a hold of my pad and pencil this morning an' he's been
drawing pictures of the fight and other things--here's one of them."
The old sailor produced a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
Walter examined the sketch closely. It was not without a certain
cleverness and was better than one would expect of a humble sailor
before the mast. It depicted a struggle between two groups of men. In
one of the groups, the lad could recognize some of the faces of the
Greeks, who, armed with knives and clubs, were assailing the other
party. As the lad bent over to examine the other group more closely, he
uttered an exclamation of surprise. At first glance there was nothing
startling about those whom the Greeks were fighting, but a second
glance showed something familiar about the figures composing it. He
passed the sketch to Charley.
"What do you make of it?" he asked.
"Why, that little group is intended to represent us," his chum
exclaimed. "See they are just four in number. That big one with the
beard is meant for the captain and the little one for Chris, the other
two are you and I. Why, the likeness to us is quite striking when you
look at it closely."
"I believe he intended this for a warning to us," Walter declared.
"Where are the rest of the things he drew, Captain?"
"I threw them all away, I didn't reckon they meant anything," the old
sailor replied, regretfully.
"Well, never mind," said Charley cheerfully, "we will get him to draw
them over again. He seems a very intelligent fellow. I wish he could
talk so as to tell us what the crew are saying now. Just look at him."
The strange sailor was leaning forward listening eagerly to the buzz of
conversation going on between the Greeks. The diving boat's crew seemed
to have conveyed the excitement under which they had been laboring all
day to their shipmates who had remained aboard the schooner. Groups of
two or three were gathered here and there, talking eagerly together.
Walter called the little Greek lad to him.
"What are the men talking about, Ben?"
The little fellow hesitated before replying. It was plain that he was
greatly troubled and frightened. "They talk about nothing much," he
stammered.
Walter was pressing him with further questions when his chum interfered.
"It's hardly fair to make him tell," he said. "It might cause him a lot
of trouble. His uncle is glaring at him now, as though he would like to
kill him."
There was nothing to be learned by watching the crew's actions, so,
signing to the wounded sailor to follow them, the four chums descended
to the cabin where the Greek cook had supper waiting for them.
Charley was unusually quiet during the meal, but when the Greek cook
and Ben had at last retired carrying the dishes with them, he arose and
closed the cabin door.
"Captain," he said as he returned to his companions, "I am going down
in a diving suit to-morrow."
CHAPTER XII.
IN A DIVING SUIT.
THE old sailor stared at Charley as though he feared the lad had taken
leave of his senses.
"Why, you must be crazy," he exclaimed. "You don't know anything about
that kind of diving."
"I fancy there is not much to learn about it," Charley replied. "I've
been watching the divers closely and it appears very simple. The main
thing seems to be to keep the air hose clear. I've been wanting to go
down ever since the first day, and the strange way the crew have acted
to-day has decided me to try it. I want to see what it is that has so
excited them."
"It's a fool notion and I ain't going to let you do it," the captain
stormed, but Charley only grinned, cheerfully.
"It's no use scolding, Captain, I've quite made up my mind to try it.
I've been thinking it over the whole day."
"I say you sha'n't do it," roared the old sailor. "I'll put you in
irons first, I'm captain of this schooner."
"But I'm captain of the diving boat," Charley reminded him with a grin,
"If anyone interferes with my doings on my own ship it's mutiny, you
know."
"Walt, say something to get him out of that fool notion," pleaded the
old sailor, helplessly.
Walter turned to his chum with a twinkle in his eye, "If you go down,
I'm going too," he said, decidedly.
"You're two young lunatics," the captain declared, wrathfully. "You're
bound to always run yourselves into danger whenever you get a show.
Neither one of you will ever live to see twenty."
But, although he fumed and threatened for a long time, the matter
ended, as was always the case when the boys had determined upon a
thing, in his, at last, giving a grudging consent to their plan.
Chris had followed his little friend Ben on deck as soon as he finished
his supper, but soon after the discussion was ended he returned below
grumbling.
"Dat white child ain't no fitten company to-night," he declared. "He
acts plum scart to death an' won't talk none tall."
"You go up and stay around the wheel, 'till we come up," the captain
ordered. "I thought you were there all the time or I'd been up myself,
I don't want none of those fellows fooling around the compass."
When Chris had retired, still grumbling, Walter brought out a pad and
pencil and handed them to the sailor who had been watching their faces
closely during their animated debate.
The man seized them eagerly and bending over the pad began to draw
slowly with awkward, clumsy fingers. When the sketch was finished he
tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to Charley whom he seemed to
recognize as the real leader of the little party.
The lad examined the sketch with eager interest. "He must be a very
cheerful sort of fellow," he remarked, as he passed it to his chum.
"First, he prophesies a fight with the crew, and, now, he has got us
all shipwrecked. Can't say much for his skill with the pencil though;
that hulk does not look much like our pretty 'Beauty'."
The rude sketch pictured a forlorn, dismasted wreck, covered with
seaweed and with one side badly stove in.
The sailor had immediately commenced upon another picture which he soon
passed over.
The boys looked it over but could not decide what it was intended to
represent.
"It looks like a box full of crackers," Charley said with a grin.
"Well, if he's decided to have us shipwrecked, it's thoughtful of him
to provide us with something to eat."
But the sailor did not seem to regard it as any laughing matter. He
watched their expressions with a face full of concern, and, when
Walter shook his head to show that he did not understand the sketch, he
laid aside the pad with a heavy sigh.
"He has given it up," Charley said. "We had better go to bed, I guess
we have a hard day ahead of us to-morrow."
Chris was recalled from the deck and Walter took his place while the
others turned into their bunks and were soon fast asleep. At midnight
he awakened Charley and at four o'clock Charley was relieved by the
captain. The watches passed away without any alarm, but one thing
struck both of the lads as being curious. All during their watches
three or four of the Greeks remained on deck instead of seeking their
bunks as they usually did right after eating supper. They sat around
up by the forecastle smoking and talking quietly together and the boys
came to the conclusion that they were merely wakeful from the effects
of the liquor they had drank the night before.
The boys looked longingly at the tempting breakfast served by the Greek
cook, but as they had decided to make the descent to the bottom that
morning they were obliged to be content with a cup of coffee.
The captain and Chris followed them aboard the diving boat. "We're
going with you," the old sailor explained. "It's a risky thing you're
planning to do an' I'd be too nervous and anxious about you to stay on
the schooner. She will be all right without us for a little while."
Manuel seemed to note the presence of the captain and Chris with
satisfaction. Before the boat was shoved off from the schooner, he
called the cook to the rail and conversed with him a few minutes in low
tones.
But his satisfaction changed to frowning anger when the boys began to
don the diving suits.
"You are foolish to attempt to go down, young sirs," he said, angrily.
"It is dangerous, very dangerous."
"We are the only ones at all likely to suffer," Charley replied
shortly. "Tend strictly to your pumping, when we think we need advice,
we will ask you for it."
Before his head-piece was adjusted, he found opportunity to whisper to
Walter. "We won't be able to talk when we get below, so I want you to
follow me and do just what you see me do."
"I will," promised his chum. "My, don't these things feel queer. I can
hardly lift my feet, they are so heavy. They make me feel helpless as a
little baby."
The divers adjusted the helmets to the lads' heads and, assisting them
to the rail, helped them down the ladder, and lowered them gently to
the bottom.
Charley laughed to himself as he caught sight of Walter in the clear
water. His chum looked like some strange monster in the grotesque
diving suit. He waved his hand to him and Walter placed one great paw
over his helmet where his mouth was supposed to be, to show that he was
endeavoring politely to stifle a laugh.
But the boys' merriment at each other's grotesque appearance was
quickly lost in admiration of the strange scene about them.
It was as though they were standing in the midst of a beautiful garden.
Here and there were patches of soft white bottom, like winding paths
amongst the marine growth. On every side of the bare places rose
lace-like sea fans of purple, yellow, and red, and feather-like sea
plumes swaying gently to and fro to the motion of the water caused by
the lads' descent. At their bases lay scattered multitudes of shells of
every conceivable shape, size, and hue, while, towering far above the
riot of color, rose mighty trees of snow-white coral among the branches
of which hovered golden, silver, crimson, and every shade of fish,
great and small, their fins flashing gracefully as they darted to and
fro.
For some moments, the lads stood motionless drinking in the beauty of
the wonderful garden, but they had not descended merely to admire and
Charley, after a long look around, hauled gently on the life-line until
he had some hundred feet coiled neatly at his feet. Walter, though not
comprehending his chum's plan, followed his example. The ruse was to
serve a two-fold purpose, first to lead those on the diving boat to
think that the two were a considerable distance from the boat, and,
second, to deceive them as to the real direction taken by those below.
As soon as Walter had got his life-line neatly coiled down, Charley
turned at right angles from the spot and moved slowly forward for the
place where he calculated lay the supposed bad place in the Gulf's
bottom.
He was surprised to find that he could walk with perfect ease and
comfort. The suit, which had been so heavy and cumbersome above the
surface, now rested on him lightly as a feather. He could have walked
with considerable speed had it not been for the care he had to take to
keep his life-line free and clear from the numerous branches of coral.
He watched Walter anxiously to see that he used the same care with the
rope upon which their very lives depended and he was relieved to see
that his chum used every possible precaution.
Although the water was clear as crystal, neither lad could see far
ahead at that depth below the surface for it was too far for the sun's
light to penetrate brightly. Charley was almost upon the rope with its
floating buoy above before he perceived it. He moved forward now with
the greatest caution for, if Manuel's statement was true, a hasty step
might plunge him suddenly into a nasty hole or a dangerous patch of
quicksand. But the bottom did not seem any different from that over
which they had passed. The rope was fastened to a branch of coral where
there was no indication of a hole or quicksand, but, a little beyond
where the rope was fastened, the lad could see dimly a large black mass
rising up from the bottom. Towards it he slowly made his way, followed
by his chum.
CHAPTER XIII.
A CLOSE CALL.
CHARLEY'S eyes were becoming accustomed to the semi-gloom and a few
steps forward gave him a clear view of the dark object. One glance, and
he turned to his chum with a cry which was lost in his muffling helmet.
Before the two lads lay the wreck of a once stately ship, her masts
broken short off and a great gaping hole in her side. She had evidently
lain long in her bed amongst the coral and sponges for long tendrils of
sea moss streamed out from her barnacle-covered sides.
Someone had been there before them for the moss and marine growth had
been scraped from the vessel's stern revealing the name, "Golden Hope".
Charley turned from the spelling out of the indistinct letters to see
his chum beckoning to him wildly and he hurried to his side.
Walter was stooping over an opened box partly filled with what had
once been shining gold pieces but which were now tarnished and almost
unrecognizable in their coat of gray slime. The box had been recently
torn open as was evident from the freshly-splintered wood.
Charley sat down on the box's edge and did some rapid thinking. The
crew's excitement was now accounted for. They had not come upon a
rich bed of sponges as he had suspected but had discovered a treasure
such as men for ages have fought, struggled, and died to attain. The
half emptied box showed that the divers had already begun to remove
the gold. For a moment, the lad was puzzled to know how they had been
able to bring up what was missing without its being seen. There were
no pockets to the diving suits and they could have carried but a few
pieces at a time in their closed hands. A moment's reflection, however,
brought him to the only possible explanation; the gold must have been
sent up in the sponge basket hidden amongst the lumps of mud from which
it could have been removed by the crew without much risk of discovery.
But it was not the removal of the gold which gave the quick-witted
lad the most concern. The amount taken by the Greeks was likely but a
mere trifle when compared with that which remained. It was the effects
the discovery of such a treasure would have upon an already unruly
crew that he feared. As he had said to Walter but the day before, he
believed it needed but a trifle to fan the Greeks' growing discontent
into open mutiny. Here was riches enough to tempt the most steady band
of sailors and it was but reasonable to suppose that it would tempt
the lawless Greeks to deeds of violence and bloodshed. These thoughts
surged through the lad's mind in far less time than it has taken to
tell of them. He would have liked to have talked the matter over with
his chum and settled upon the wisest plan to follow, but that was
impossible below the surface and signs were useless to convey exact
ideas. He must decide alone upon their immediate course of action and
trust to Walter's quick wit to fall in with what he decided upon.
Arising he turned to his chum and laid one finger across his lips.
Walter nodded his ponderous head-piece to show that he understood the
sign for silence regarding their discovery.
Taking up his sponge basket, Charley retraced his steps to the spot
where they had descended followed by his observant chum. Here the
sponges grew in abundance and he at once began to fill his basket, an
example which Walter immediately followed.
As he bent over to tear up an unusually large sponge he became suddenly
sensible of an agitation of the water near him. Straightening up, he
stood frozen to his tracks with fear and horror. Not ten feet from
where he stood lay a gigantic shark, its belly gleaming white through
the clear water. Its little green eyes were fixed upon him with a
wicked unblinking stare. He let the basket drop from his grasp and
flung up his arms with an unreasoning instinct to protect his head from
the impending attack. At his sudden movement the great fish darted
away. Evidently, it was equally as frightened of the strange unknown
monster it had encountered.
The shock had left the frightened lad weak and trembling and he had to
rest a few minutes before he could resume the filling of his basket.
As he placed the last sponge in the basket he turned to signal to his
chum to ascend, but Walter was already gone, his figure, grotesque in
the diving suit, was already well up from the bottom and shooting up
with astonishing swiftness. At the same moment Charley became aware of
a strange sickening sensation. He was choking and gasping for breath.
Before he could realize what had happened the frightful sensation had
passed and he was able to breathe fully and freely, and he felt himself
being pulled swiftly to the surface.
In a moment he was hoisted above the surface, hauled aboard the boat
and his helmet removed. The captain, white-faced and shaken was leaning
against the mast his revolver in his hand. Chris, ashen-hued, and a
sailor, was still pumping faintly. Close beside the air pump lay Manuel
in apparent unconsciousness.
"What's happened?" Charley cried.
"Manuel keeled over in a fit or something," said the captain, brokenly.
"I thought you would both be dead before we could get you to the
surface. It seemed ages before I could get Chris to the pump and the
fellows to hauling you up. They seemed to move mighty slow 'till I
threatened to shoot. They maybe didn't understand what I said but the
sight of the gun made 'em more lively," he concluded, grimly.
Charley walked over to the prostrate Greek and stood gazing down at his
upturned face.
"He has no business to faint when he's working the air pump," he said
savagely. "I guess I'll kick him a good hard one in the face for
punishment."
The manly lad had no such intention of carrying out such a brutal
threat but he wanted to test whether the treacherous Greek was, as he
suspected, really shamming.
The prostrate man's features twitched, he sighed heavily and rolled
over on his side, Charley's suspicions were confirmed.
"Captain," said the lad distinctly, "if anything happens to Walter and
I when we are below the surface, I want you to shoot this man without
the slightest hesitation. He is the only one who can understand your
orders and he must be made responsible for our safety."
"I'll shoot him the first time anything goes wrong," the captain
declared wrathfully, as he caught the wink of Charley's eye. "I feel
like killing him now, for the fright he gave me."
The shamming Greek did not seem to relish this threatening talk. He
showed signs of surprisingly rapid recovery. In a few minutes he was
able to sit up and look around.
"I am overjoyed to find you both alive," he said faintly to the two
boys. "Everything grew suddenly black before me when I was pumping and
I knew no more. It is my heart, it troubles me at times. You young
gentlemen must go down no more, it is too risky."
"We have had enough of it for to-day, but we may try it again
to-morrow," Charley replied, cheerfully. "It is very beautiful and
interesting down below."
"I hope you avoided the bad place on the bottom," said the Greek,
anxiously. "The divers say it is a dangerous hole."
"You must think we are fools to venture near such a place," said
Charley, indignantly, and the man looked greatly relieved.
Above all, the prudent lad wished to keep the crew from thinking that
he and Walter had come upon the treasure. As long as they believed
them ignorant of its existence they would likely continue the work of
secretly removing it without open violence.
He could not talk over the matter with his chums without danger of
being overheard, and he was forced to appear unconcerned and look on
with indifference while the divers sent up basket after basket of
sponges, in every load of which he was convinced was hidden several
hundred dollars of the gold coins.
He greatly admired Walter's manner. The lad chattered over the
beautiful gardens they had seen below without a hint in his voice or
manner of the secret they had stumbled upon.
From time to time the crew shot glances of scowling suspicion at
the little group, but they were evidently reassured by the boys'
cheerfulness and apparent unconcern.
It was like sitting beside a powder mine with a lighted fuse in it, and
both lads were greatly relieved when the long day dragged away to its
close and the diving boat was headed back for the schooner.
They were met at the schooner's rail by the cook who seemed greatly
excited and who greeted them with a torrent of rapidly spoken words.
Manuel listened with a look of sadness, real or assumed, on his face.
"He says," he interpreted swiftly, "that the wounded man went suddenly
crazy this morning and flung himself into the sea."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DISCUSSION.
THE chums looked at each other in silent comprehension. There was not
a doubt in the mind of either that the sailor had been made away with
during their absence from the ship. They recalled Manuel's talk with
the cook before they left the schooner and the look of satisfaction in
his face when he learned that they were all going on the diving boat.
Even the captain was not slow to grasp the horrible truth.
"It's a terrible business, but don't let on that you suspect them," he
whispered. "We've got to have a long talk and decide what it's best
to do." To Manuel, he said, curtly, "I reckon, it's the fellow's own
business if he wanted to drown himself, so you ain't got no cause to
grieve. Better divide his things up amongst the crew."
Although they were eager for a talk alone, the four lounged carelessly
about the deck, striving to appear unconcerned, until the Greek boy
summoned them to supper below. They talked cheerfully until the cook
had retired bearing the empty dishes with him. Then Charley arose and
noiselessly closed the cabin windows and door so that their words would
not reach the deck. Returning to his seat, he called the pale-faced
little Greek lad to him, and, resting his hand on his head, said kindly,
"Ben, we are not going to repeat anything you say to us, and we want
you to tell us just what has been troubling you the last few days."
The little lad burst into tears, "They'll kill me," he sobbed, "they'll
kill me."
"They will never know you told us," Charley assured him. "We will never
let anyone know you told us."
"They are going to kill you all," faltered the boy as soon as he could
control his sobs.
"Why do they want to kill us," Charley questioned.
"My uncle makes them mad. When you give orders he adds lots of bad
names and swear words to them. He tells the crew that you always take
that sailor's part. He tells them you're going to have them all put in
jail when you get back to Tarpon. He tells them you love that sailor
and hate Greeks."
"But why did they hate that sailor so?" Walter questioned.
"He Turk," explained the lad. "Greeks hate Turks."
The chums glanced at each other in swift comprehension. They knew of
the deadly hatred that existed between the two races. A hatred that
had led to the bitter war in which the Greeks had been badly beaten.
They understood now why the handsome sailor had been shunned by all
his shipmates. They could see, too, how the wily Manuel had used their
defense of the man to arouse the crew's resentment against them. The
cunning Greek had woven about them a net of lies which it would be
impossible to explain away.
"Then they find gold," Ben continued, "that makes them crazy. Manuel
tells them to leave you alone if you don't find out about the money,
but kill you if you do."
"The infernal rascal," exploded the captain. "He goes in irons and down
in the hold to stay 'till we get to port."
"Don't do that!" cried the alarmed Greek lad. "They kill you right off
if you do."
"One thing more," said Charley, as the little fellow's tears began to
flow afresh. "Who killed that sailor?"
But Ben did not know although it was evident that he did not doubt that
the man had been killed.
Charley waited until the lad had dried his tears, then let him go with
the caution to tell none of the crew that he had told them.
"We are in the tightest fix of our lives," he declared, when Ben had
gone. "It seems, from what he says, that we are safe so long as they
do not suspect that we know anything about the gold but I fancy that
Manuel suspects that we have found it and I do not believe we can count
on their being willing to let us reach port alive. The question is,
what had we better do."
"I don't understand all this talk about gold," said the captain.
The boys hurriedly told of the discovery they had made while the old
sailor listened with sparkling eyes.
"Boys," he exclaimed, when their tale was concluded, "you've found what
will make rich men of us all. I remember the excitement caused by the
loss of that ship. It happened twelve years ago. For months tugs and
steamers were scouring the Gulf searching for her. She had cleared from
New Orleans for New York with two million dollars in gold aboard."
"She might as well contain two million toothpicks so far as we are
concerned," said Charley, impatiently. "I'd give up every cent of it
willingly to be safe in port this minute."
The captain, brought abruptly back to a realization of their desperate
situation, thought deeply for several moments before he spoke. "We had
ought to be able to hold our own against them fellows," he, at last,
observed. "We are well armed and I don't believe they have got any
weapons except their sheaf knives which ain't no good except at close
quarters."
"It is not open violence but treachery that I fear," Charley explained.
"We have had two samples already of the way they work. First in that
stoppage of the air hose and, second, in the making away of that
sailor. No, that Manuel is too cunning a rascal to risk open rebellion
when he can accomplish his ends without any personal risk."
"Why not let them continue to get up the gold and hide it as they have
been doing?" Walter suggested. "We can pretend that we do not know what
is going on. Then when we get to port we can turn them over to the
authorities and recover the money without any trouble."
Charley shook his head doubtfully. "That will not do," he said. "I am
as convinced as I am that I am living, that we would never reach port
alive. Manuel is too wise to take any chances and he knows that they
could not remove such a large amount of gold from the schooner without
arousing suspicion. I believe he has entrusted the crew to spare us for
the present only because he thinks that some of the fleet might happen
along and grow curious if we were all missing. Besides, it is doubtful
if any of them know enough about navigation to sail the 'Beauty' home.
Us boys, he probably will not hesitate to remove at any time if he can
give the act the appearance of accident, like what occurred to-day.
The captain, he will likely permit to remain alive until near port. He
will have a long story made up to account for our disappearance and the
gold will likely be well hidden amongst the ballast from where he can
remove it without exciting comment so long as we are not on board."
The lad spoke confidently for he was putting himself in the place
of the cunning Greek and reasoning just what he would do in a like
position.
"I've got it," exclaimed the captain in triumph. "When they are asleep
we'll batten down the forecastle hatch on them and keep them there
until we get to port. We four can work the schooner in, I guess."
"I tell you, you don't realize what a cunning rascal that fellow is,"
Charley declared in reluctant admiration. "He has provided against just
such an attempt. I did not understand the reason for it last night, but
I noticed that all during my watch on deck there were three or four men
hanging around the deck up forward. It's a great stake they are playing
for and they are not taking the slightest chances."
"I noticed the men hanging around," admitted the captain, "but I didn't
think much of it at the time. Let's have your plan, if you've got one,
lad."
"I'm afraid we can't get out of this hole without some violence and
danger," Charley replied. "I have been thinking over it all day and
this is the only thing I can think of that seems to offer any hope
of success. First thing in the morning Walter and I must descend to
the wreck again and bring up enough gold to pay off the men when we
get to port. It's a risky thing to do, but it is necessary to carry
out my plan. You see," he paused to explain, "the men were shipped for
three months and they could demand pay for that time. We haven't got
the money and we have not gathered up enough sponges yet to make up so
large an amount. They could tie the schooner up for their wages and
make us a lot of trouble and expense, a thing Manuel would be sure to
do."
"But they have got a lot of gold which belongs to us, already," Walter
suggested.
"We would have hard work to prove that it is ours, and it would mean a
lot of delay," replied his chum quickly.
"Go on with your plan, lad," said the captain, who perceived that
Charley had thought over all sides of the question with his usual
clearness.
"After we have brought up the money. We will use their own plan for
bringing it up without its being noticed--we will hang around and let
them go on with the work as usual all day, for it would not do to fight
it out on the diving boat. When we get back to the schooner at night,
we will bring matters to a head. We will make them get up anchor and
sails and head back for Tarpon. There's bound to be trouble and plenty
of it but we'll be prepared for it and Tarpon is only two days' sail.
What do you think of the plan?"
He did not have to wait long for a chorus of objections.
CHAPTER XV.
A DESPERATE PLAN.
"I DON'T see that your plan is any better than mine," Walter objected.
"To tarry along while they remove the gold would give them time enough
to remove us one by one," Charley replied, "While by doing as I have
suggested they will have but little chance for treachery, and, although
we will be sure to have trouble with them as soon as we order them to
get up anchor, I think we can manage to keep the upper hand of them for
the short time it will take to reach Tarpon."
"Golly, dis nigger plum hates to run off an' lebe all dat gole," Chris
observed.
"We'll come back for it," Charley declared. "As soon as we have paid
off the Greeks and got rid of them, we'll pick a crew of Americans and
hurry back."
"And while we are wasting time in getting a new crew, the Greeks will
have spread the news and a dozen boats will be here before we can get
back."
"You forget that the captain is the only one who knows where we are
by the latitude and longitude. Without knowing that, fifty boats might
hunt for a month without seeing that little buoy. It would be like
looking for a needle in a haystack."
"Hang that pesky Greek," exclaimed the captain. "He asked me this
morning for the schooner's position, an' I gave it to him."
Charley's face fell, "That fellow seems to think of everything,"
he sighed. "But it's hard to get an exact position by latitude and
longitude alone, isn't it, Captain?"
"A navigator is lucky if he hits within four or five miles of the place
he's aiming for. Of course it can be done if one is extra careful, but
I could not swear to our exact position on the chart now, 'though I
reckon I could come within a couple of miles of it."
"Good," Charley exclaimed, "I guess, we can make it impossible for them
to find the wreck again, if they should manage to get back before us.
It will mean a little change in my plan, though. Instead of getting
off to-morrow night, we will have to wait until the next morning." He
hastily outlined his amended plan, which, after they had discussed it
carefully, his companions agreed was as promising as any they could
think of.
They had hardly finished their discussion when there came a knock at
the cabin door and Manuel entered, smiling.
"I wished to enquire if the young gentlemen intend to go down in the
suits again to-morrow?" he said, suavely.
"We haven't decided yet," Charley said, carelessly, "Why do you wish to
know?"
"Because, if you are, the air hose had better be greased. If it is left
dry for long the rubber sometimes cracks and makes leaks."
"Then have it well greased," the captain ordered.
"I guess he's afraid of being shot if anything happens, an' is taking
every precaution," chuckled the captain when the Greek had retired.
"Perhaps," agreed Charley, doubtfully, "but, I confess, I am afraid of
that fellow. I'll certainly look over that hose carefully before I go
down to-morrow."
When they ascended to the deck, which they had forgotten to have
watched in the excitement of their discussion, they found Manuel and
two of the divers busily engaged in greasing the rubber air hose with
bacon slush from the cook's galley.
Charley's was the first watch on deck and, long after his companions
had retired to their bunks, he paced back and forth aft of the main
mast pondering thoughtfully over the plan he had suggested. It was
the best he could conceive under the circumstances but he realized
that its execution would be attended with the gravest dangers. Most
of all, he dreaded the proposed descent to the bottom for the gold.
He was convinced that Manuel had hit upon some scheme to get rid of
him and Walter without danger to himself. Again and again the lad's
thoughts came back to the greasing of the hose. If the operation was
so important, why had the divers not done it before--They were not the
kind of men to take any unnecessary risks in their dangerous work below
the surface. He had often noted the care with which they had examined
hose and pump before each descent.
But, while the lad puzzled over the matter, he did not neglect to
keep a watchful eye upon the three or four Greeks who lingered on the
forward deck. If he had needed any reminder of the peril of their
situation, it would have been found in the sight of those watchful,
restless figures.
Near the end of his watch, he gave vent to a low exclamation--He had
discovered the reason for the greasing of the hose. For a few minutes
he was appalled by the cunning fiendishness which had prompted the
act. The two hoses lay coiled close together in great heaps on deck.
Sauntering over to them, the lad stooped over each pile for a second,
then, straightening up, he resumed his slow steady pacing.
At midnight he awoke Walter to take his place. "I've solved it," he
told him.
"Solved what?" asked Walter, sleepily.
"Their reason for greasing the hose."
"What is it?"
"To attract sharks and lead them to bite it in two."
"The fiends!" Walter cried as the devilish ingenuity of the plot dawned
upon him. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing, until we are ready to descend," his chum replied, "then it
will be too late for them to practice another surprise for us."
"Are you sure you are right," asked Walter, doubtfully. "They are not
sure that we are going to descend, you know."
"I think Manuel feels pretty confident that we will. If we fail to do
so, he likely will find some excuse for replacing the greased hose with
new ones. You can bet, he's got it all figured out. He is the brainiest
villain I ever met up with. Better hurry on deck now, and keep a close
watch out. There's no telling what other scheme he's got hatched up."
Although he retired to his bunk at once, Charley lay long awake. The
morrow would be filled with danger and his nerves were already growing
tense for the struggle which he foresaw. The Captain had relieved
Walter on deck before he at last fell into a troubled slumber from
which he awoke just as day was beginning to break.
By the time it was light enough to see, he was up and dressed and
making preparations for the carrying out of his hazardous plan. From
the lazerette, he procured a long coil of light rope which he placed
in one corner of his cabin. He next opened up his valise and got out
the ammunition he had purchased in Tarpon and a small, but excellent
pocket compass. These he placed in his bunk where they would be handy
if needed quickly.
When breakfast was over, the diving boat was brought alongside and all
got on board except the cook and four men left to take care of the
schooner and clean the sponges gathered the previous day.
"We have decided to go down and have one more look at those sea
gardens," Charley told Manuel when the sponging ground was reached.
"They are beautiful enough to invite another visit."
The Greeks' face expressed satisfaction. "They are beautiful," he
agreed, "but the young gentlemen are rash to go down. Let the divers
take the risks--they are paid to do it."
"We will be very careful," Charley said, cheerfully. "Walt, we had
better look over the hose before we go down, the divers always do."
The greased hose had been recoiled in the tubs and the boys proceeded
to overhaul them, foot by foot, searching them closely for cracks or
punctures.
Walter was puzzled to comprehend his chum's plan. After what he had
discovered, surely he did not intend to risk using the dangerous
things, but he was well enough acquainted with Charley's shrewdness
to hold his tongue and keep his face from betraying his uneasiness.
He felt sure that there was a good reason for his chum's actions. He
had but just reached this decision when he came upon a gapping hole in
the hose. It looked much as though it had been cut in two with a sharp
knife.
"Here's a bad place," he announced. "It's lucky I found it. Air can't
be pumped through this thing."
"And here's a hole in mine, too," Charley declared in accents so
surprised that no one would have dreamed that he had made both slits
the night before to serve as an excuse for the rejection of the
dangerous hose. "We can't use either one of them, we'll have to get out
the new hose."
Manuel's face for a second was a picture of bewilderment and baffled
rage, but in a moment he was again suave and smiling. "I don't see what
can have made those cuts," he declared. "They can be patched in a few
minutes, however. It would be a pity to throw away such hose, it is as
good as new except for those two little places which can be speedily
fixed."
CHAPTER XVI.
TOO LATE.
"NO patched hose for me," Charley said, decidedly. "If the divers want
to risk using it, they can."
It was not just the reply the wily Greek had expected and he hastened
to answer.
"You are right, it does not pay to take risks. I will get the new hose
and put it on."
But Charley was ahead of him. He did not intend to give the wily Greek
any chance to play tricks with the new hose. He brought it out from
the lockers in which it was kept and, after examining it carefully
connected it to the air pumps and helmets. Before putting on his
head-piece, he tried the air pump also. It proved to be in perfect
working order and sent the air gushing through the hose. Manuel
fastened the life-line below his arms, but Charley called the captain
to adjust the heavy helmet over his head.
As soon as his feet touched the bottom, Charley moved forward for
the wreck, Walter at his side. Neither lad wished to remain below a
second longer than was necessary for they fully realized that they were
running a terrible risk in descending at all. They found the box they
had discovered the day before entirely empty, the divers had brought
another out from the wreck's hold and broken it open. The gold was in
twenty dollar pieces and in a few minutes the lads had transferred
several hundred dollars from the box to the baskets. It was hard to
resist taking more but the risks were too great to permit it. Quickly
hastening back to the patch of sponges, they tore up several baskets
full of the mud and covered fungus and, making a slit in each with
their sheaf knives, stuffed in the coins. It was the very plan the
divers had followed but Charley had decided that they would not be
looking for the adopting of their own trick. As soon as the last coin
was hidden and the loaded sponges placed in the basket with others on
top of them to complete the load, Charley signed to Walter to ascend
and stood watching him until he had been drawn to the surface, then he
gave the signal to be drawn up himself. He was raised a few feet up
from the bottom then he sank quickly back to the place from which he
had risen and he saw the end of the life-line dangling in the water
twenty feet above his head. _It had been pulled loose from his body._
Charley stood for a moment looking at it in terrified dismay while his
quick brain took in the awful significance of his position. Frightened
as he was, he could not but admire the quickness with which Manuel had
hit upon another scheme for his undoing after that of the greased hose,
had failed, for he had not a doubt that the Greek had fastened the
life-line to him in such a manner that it would pull loose with a hard
jerk. He was in no immediate danger of death for the air hose still
connected him with the surface and the fresh air still came gushing in
a welcome stream into his helmet, but a moment's reflection convinced
him that this was not all of Manuel's scheme, for the Greek would know
that the captain and Walter would soon become uneasy over his delay
and would start an investigation which would quickly reveal that the
life-line was no longer attached to him. Clearly, the Greek had another
card up his sleeve which he would soon play and Charley waited for it
with every nerve strained to keenest tension. He felt longingly of
the air hose, wondering if the frail tube would hold for him to pull
himself up to the surface by it, but he quickly decided that it would
not stand the heavy strain and to break it would mean his instant
death. Keeping one eye on the life-line so tantalizingly out of his
reach he moved slowly forward until he stood beneath the diving boat
which showed like a dim shadow above him. Suddenly a thrill of horror
went through him, the diving boat was slowly drifting away--Manuel had
played his trump card. In a flash the terror-stricken lad comprehended
the situation. Some one of the Greeks, under Manuel's instructions, had
stealthily severed the cable, relying on the boat's slow drift being
unnoticed by the captain and Walter until it had dragged apart the
frail air hose. But, just as Charley had given up all hope and waited
for the parting of the hose which would mean his death, the dangling
life-line was jerked up out of sight,--his companions had discovered a
part at least of his plight--upon their next actions depended his life
or death.
The next few seconds seemed like hours to the helpless lad, then a dark
speck appeared in the water above him quickly growing in size until he
could see that it was Chris fighting his way downward with long steady
strokes and following the air hose in his descent. The little negro
was nearly exhausted when he reached the bottom. Thrusting the end of
the line he had brought into Charley's hand, he turned upward and shot
to the surface like a rocket. Charley whipped the line about his waist
and gave the signal to pull up. He was swiftly pulled to the surface,
hauled aboard the boat, and his helmet removed. Chris, breathing
heavily, was standing by the mast, the water dripping from him. Walter
and the captain, pale with fear, stood close beside him.
"Thank God, you're safe, lad," cried the old sailor, tears in his
eyes. "We feared the air hose would part before Chris could get to you.
We had just pulled on the life-line and found it had come loose from
you when we discovered the boat had gone adrift. I reckon, she must
have chafed her cable in two against a sharp piece of coral. Queer how
everything happens all at once that way, sometimes."
It was clear the simple old sailor did not suspect that the trouble was
anything but an accident, and Charley hastened to reply,
"All is well that ends well, but I've nearly had the life scart out of
me. I don't think I'll ever want to go down again."
He was watching Manuel closely as he spoke and he noted with
satisfaction the expression of relief on the Greek's swarthy face.
If he could only keep him from thinking that he knew anything about
the gold and had not discovered his treachery, he hoped to be able to
avoid open violence until they were prepared and ready for it. He was
convinced that the Greek was too cowardly to risk the danger of being
shot in open mutiny so long as he thought himself unsuspected and free
to scheme their removal without danger to himself.
The diving boat was worked back to her old position, another anchor
dropped, and donning their suits the divers resumed operations below.
When they came to the surface at the end of their two hour trick below
they seemed strangely excited and conversed eagerly with Manuel and the
rest of the crew. Charley was for awhile puzzled to account for their
excitement, but 'ere long the solution came to him. Like all plans
intended to deceive, his had contained a fatal defect.
"Walt," he whispered to his chum, "those chaps have noticed that some
of the gold has been removed from that box. We are in for trouble, now,
I fear." The Captain and Chris were warned to be on their guard but
it seemed that the warning was unnecessary, the excited talk amongst
the crew soon ceased and the fresh divers quietly prepared for their
descent.
But in spite of the quietness, there was a tension and earnestness
in the crew's manner which made the anxious little party of chums
feel that they were standing at the edge of a powder mine which might
explode at any minute.
"I would rather have open fighting than this awful waiting," Walter
whispered.
"We will have that soon enough," said his chum, grimly. "It will come
as soon as we try to make them get the schooner under way."
The long anxious day at last drew to its close, anchor was got up on
the diving boat, and she was headed back for the schooner.
As they passed a large piece of driftwood covered with large black
birds with very long necks, Manuel pointed at them, "Those are fine
eating," he said wistfully. "If the young gentlemen could kill a few it
would give us all a great feast."
Walter looked at Charley who nodded assent, for he was not loath that
the Greek should witness their skill with the revolver.
Both boys had practiced often with their revolvers and were better than
average marksmen. Their pistols were automatics, a style of weapon with
which even the unskillful can shoot fairly accurately. Walter fired six
shots in as many seconds, killing four birds and wounding one. Charley
fired four shots at the same time, killing two birds and crippling a
third. The rest of the birds took flight before the boys could shoot
more. The captain and Chris emptied their pistols at the flying flock
without success.
The diving boat was run alongside the dead birds and they were picked
up by the crew. Manuel seemed delighted, "The young gentlemen are
wonderful shots," he declared.
CHAPTER XVII.
OUTWITTED.
THE chums hastened below when the schooner was reached for they were
eager to talk over the next move to be made.
"Things have got to be brought to a head right off," declared the
captain when Charley had acquainted him with his suspicions of Manuel's
foul play. "It's rank foolishness to linger along an' give them more
chances to work out their devilish tricks. It's better to have trouble
with them right now while we are prepared than to wait and perhaps have
them take us unawares."
"Thank goodness the time for action is close at hand," Charley agreed,
"I could not stand this anxiety and suspense much longer. Let's go over
our plan once more and make sure that we each know our parts so that
there will be no hitch when we come to carry them out. Now as soon as
we have supper Chris and I will get into the dingy and pretend that we
are going to row around for fun. We will pull back and forth until it
gets good and dark, then we'll gradually work out to that buoy. We
will cut it adrift, take it aboard, pull due East from the schooner for
a mile and anchor it again. That will throw them way off the scent if
they should manage to get back here again before us, while it will tell
us just where to look for the wreck. That part is easy, the trouble
will come when we get back to the boat. First thing we had better do is
to stretch several ropes across the deck from rail to rail just forward
of the mainmast. That will delay and bother them if they should try to
rush us in a body. The next move will be to get Manuel aft and get the
irons on him. We had better get him down here in the cabin to attempt
that. As soon as we get him helpless, we will carry him up and make him
give our orders to get up anchor and get sail on the schooner. He's too
great a coward to encourage his shipmates to make a rush for us so long
as he is in our power. They may try it in spite of him, however, when
they realize that the gold is going to be lost to them. If they do we
will have to fight them off while Chris tends to the wheel. We don't
want any bloodshed if we can help it but we mustn't let them get aft of
the mainmast, they would make short work of us if it ever came to close
quarters. Do you all understand now what we have to do?"
His companions nodded.
"Then we had better reload our pistols, fill up our cartridge belts,
and get ready," he continued. "I'll get the ammunition."
But in a moment he was back from his cabin, his face pale and grave.
"How many shells have you got left in your pistol?" he demanded.
"One," Walter replied, while Chris and the captain broke open their
weapons to show only empty chambers.
"I have got three shots left, that makes four altogether," Charley
said, hopelessly. "All the rest of our ammunition has been stolen out
of my bunk."
His companions grew as grave and pale as himself at the announcement.
With only four shots left they were practically helpless in the hands
of the Greeks.
"There is just one chance left," Charley declared, desperately. "We
have got to get Manuel in our power and try to control the crew through
him. It may work and it may not, but it's our only hope. Chris, go tell
him we want to see him here in the cabin."
As soon as the little negro had gone, Charley brought out a pair of
handcuffs from his grip and placed them in his pocket. "When I give
the signal, get them on him," he said. "I'll lock the door so that he
cannot get out or the crew come to help him. He'll likely put up a
fight and we'll have to watch out for his knife, but the three of us
had ought to be able to handle him. But hush, here they come now."
Footsteps sounded on the companionway stairs, the cabin door opened,
and Chris appeared, closely followed by the Greek. The little negro
stepped inside but Manuel paused on the threshold and swept a keen
glance over the assembled party. Perhaps some instinct warned him of
his danger, perhaps he decided that the time had come for his last
treacherous move. With a quick leap, he sprang back through the open
doorway, slammed the door to, and bolted it outside, and the little
band of chums were prisoners in the cabin of their own ship.
Charley leaped from his chair, but he was too late.
"Outwitted," he cried as he sank back into his seat. "Beaten at every
point of the game. What fools, what bunglers we are." There was as much
chagrin as fear in his exclamations. To be so badly beaten after all
his vigilance and careful planning was hard to bear.
His companions sat silent with despair. So suddenly had it all happened
they had not yet had time to realize that they were completely in the
hands of the Greeks who could do with them as they pleased.
Charley flipped open his pistol and handed one of his remaining
cartridges to his chum, "That gives us two apiece," he observed,
"although I doubt if we will either of us need them." He retired to
his cabin and reappeared with a blanket and a book. He spread out the
blanket on the floor and stretching himself out on it prepared to read.
"Might as well get what enjoyment we can," he said. "There's nothing we
can do, so we might as well take it easy while we may."
"How can you be so careless?" his chum exclaimed, "any minute they may
come down upon us."
"Little danger of that," the other replied, coolly. "They know we've
got four shots left yet. What would be the use of their taking chances
when they have got everything in their own hands."
But his companions could not view their position with the same hopeless
resignation. While he read on apparently unconcerned, they discussed
plan after plan for escape from their prison and perilous situation,
only to reject one after the other as wildly impracticable. At last
they abandoned the discussion in despair.
"Better turn in and try to get a good night's rest," Charley advised
them calmly. "I will keep watch for the first four hours, although I
don't believe there's the slightest use of it."
"I'm too hungry to sleep," Walter declared. "I wonder why they do not
send us down our supper."
"Bless your simple little soul," his chum exclaimed, "They do not
intend us to have anything to eat. I thought you understood that."
His companions looked at each other in dismay. This, the greatest of
all their perils, had not before occurred to them. They understood now
the awfulness of their position. All the food and water were stored
forward. The Greeks had only to let them alone and they would slowly
die of hunger and thirst.
"They will not get us that way," declared Walter, desperately. "Before
I'll die of hunger and thirst I'll set the schooner on fire."
Charley nodded approval. "I've been thinking of that myself," he said.
"A quick death is better than a slow torturing one. But there is plenty
of time to talk of that. While there is life there is hope and I have
a feeling that something is going to turn up to help us out of this
scrape. I've just happened to think of one thing that's in our favor."
He was prevented from explaining the new hope which had occurred to him
by a knock on the cabin door and Manuel's sneering voice enquiring,
"Are the gentlemen quite comfortable?"
"Quite," Charley assured him, calmly. "Much more comfortable than you
and your mates will be when the law reckons with you."
"There is no law at sea but the law of the strongest and most cunning,"
the Greek said, smoothly. "But I bear a proposal from my shipmates for
your distinguished consideration."
"State it," replied the lad, briefly.
"You are all in a bad position," stated the Greek with oily
maliciousness. "You were cunning but not cunning enough or our
positions would now be reversed. We have only to do nothing now and you
will all die. It would sadden our hearts to lose such loving friends
but we would strive to bear up bravely under the blow. But why should
you all die when we are willing to spare one. All that one would have
to do would be to take an oath to be faithful and true to us and do as
we bid him. Not only would his life be spared, but he would receive a
share of the great wealth we have discovered."
"Why are you so very generous in your offers?" Walter demanded,
sarcastically.
CHAPTER XVIII.
IMPRISONED.
"WE need one of you," explained Manuel, with startling frankness.
"Perhaps we could get along without but it does not pay to take
chances. There is a government cutter which patrols the banks to see
that the sponging vessels are complying with the laws. She may come
upon us accidentally any time and it would be awkward explaining why we
continued to work without American officers. It would very likely get
us into trouble. But if one of you takes the part of the captain and
shows the papers and explains that the rest have died from fever, all
will go smoothly."
"I suppose you have decided which one of us you want?" Charley asked,
curiously.
"Any one of you will do, but we prefer you. You have brains enough to
realize where your own interests lie. It is easier to handle a smart
man than a fool. Consider the chance we are giving you, on the one hand
slow, painful, certain death; on the other, an honored position, great
wealth and safety--we are generous indeed."
"But how do you know that I will play fair?"
"The moment you joined us you would be as liable to the law as the rest
of us," Manuel said calmly, "We would live or hang together. You would
not dare to trifle with us, and I should watch you closely all the
time."
"Here is my answer," declared Charley, whose indignation had been
steadily rising at the cold-blooded proposal. "If you would all keep
your part of the agreement,--which I am convinced you would not do, I'd
die rather than join such a pack of dirty murderers."
"You are a bigger fool than I thought," replied the Greek calmly.
"I will leave you to consider the matter better. Hunger is a great
persuader, and I am in hopes that you will soon see where your best
interests lie. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night, may your dreams be of
the pleasantest."
"He's evidently somewhat worried," said Charley, hopefully, when the
Greek's mocking voice had ceased. "He believes, I guess, that there is
a good chance of the cutter coming upon him or he would not make such
a proposal, although he would not keep his part of it any longer than
the danger lasted. Our only hope is to keep up our strength and spirits
as long as possible. There is a chance that the cutter may come along
before it is too late. Better all turn in and get some rest while you
are still not too hungry to sleep. I will call one of you to take my
place as soon as my four hours are up, although I do not believe that
they will trouble us."
The lad was right in his belief. The night passed away without any
alarm and they were able by turns to get some little sleep. With the
coming of daylight, they crowded to the windows and searched the dreary
waste of waters for sign of smoke or sail, but found none. The crew
were going about their work in cheerful unconcern. Leaving a half dozen
men on the schooner, the balance got aboard the diving boat and sailed
out to the sponge ground where they could be seen working steadily all
day bringing up the gold from the bottom. The prisoners suffered much
during the long day from their increasing hunger and thirst.
At night the diving boat returned to the schooner and the dispirited
watchers could see that the crew had not wasted their day by any means.
Both sponge baskets were nearly full of the gold coins.
"We've got to do something, I don't care how desperate it is," declared
Captain Westfield. "Anything is better than this keeping still and
suffering. By to-morrow this time we'll be too weak to do much and thar
ain't no certainty that the cutter will come along this way at all. I'm
in for doing something, no matter what."
Charley turned from his gazing out of the window, "Look here,
Captain," he called, softly. "Speak low," he cautioned as the old
sailor crept to his side, "we don't want them to hear us on deck."
"Geewhilikens!" whispered the old seaman in swift comprehension,
"they've left the diving boat fastened right under our windows."
"God grant that they may not think to move it," the lad replied,
trembling with excitement. "We can do nothing until it gets dark and
they retire to the forecastle."
Walter and Chris were quickly made acquainted with the suddenly-offered
chance of escape and their joy knew no bounds.
Then followed hours which seemed like days to the breathless, anxious
watchers. The Greeks ate their supper and lounged around the deck
talking and laughing. It seemed as though they would never retire to
their bunks. But at last their voices gradually ceased and silence
settled down upon the schooner. Charley cautiously opened one of the
big windows and swung it outward, then climbing softly toward the
opening, lowered himself to the diving boat's deck. The Captain,
Walter, and Chris followed. Not a word was spoken for each realized
the terrible risk they were running. As soon as all were crouched
motionless aboard, Charley, with his knife, severed the rope which
bound them to the schooner and the boat drifted slowly away from the
ship's side.
No one moved until the schooner was at last lost in the darkness.
"Start up the engine," said Charley, as he took the helm, and Walter
slipped down amongst the machinery. After a few minutes' fumbling in
the darkness, he crept back.
"There's no gasoline in the tank," he announced.
"Everything seems against us," Charley sighed. "Well, get sail on her.
We will have to do the best we can."
In a few minutes the great square sail was spread, and, leaning over,
the little craft sent a line of foam rippling from her bow.
"They'll have hard work finding us in this darkness," exulted the
captain as he took the helm from Charley. "I reckon, we'd better shape
a course for the nearest port,--that's Judson. As soon as we get thar,
we can telegraph to all the ports along the coast to watch out for
the schooner. We've got 'em now, I reckon, lads, they'll have to put
in somewhere sooner or later, an' they'll be nabbed. I feel just like
yelling for joy."
The rising spirits of the little party were helped by Chris' discovery
of a couple of loaves of stale black bread, and part of a bottle of
ripe olives in one of the lockers. They made a meagre but very welcome
repast upon the uninviting food.
But their joy over their lucky escape was soon dampened by the
threatening appearance of the Western sky. A heavy bank of clouds was
slowly rising there from which came flashes of lightning and the rumble
of distant thunder.
"I reckon, it ain't nothin' but a thunder squall," the captain assured
them. "Thar ain't no call to be uneasy, this is a mighty seaworthy
little craft. I reckon, we could ride out a right smart gale in her if
we had it to do."
Before they ran much further the captain gave the order to lower and
reef the great sail. When hoisted again, it was only a tiny patch of
canvas, as compared with its former size.
"Thar's only one thing for us to do when that squall strikes us an'
that's to scud before it," the old captain declared. "We can't heave
her to under that sail. Luckily, the way it's coming won't blow us out
of our course much."
They had not long to wait for the storm to burst. The wind soon
descended with a violence that threatened to bury the diving boat in
the seas it brought with it. But the little craft had been built to
stand just such weather, and, quickly gathering headway, she darted
away before the gale. With the wind came the rain in great driving,
blinding sheets. The boys hailed its appearance with joy. They spread
out their jackets, bits of sail, and even their hats to catch the
precious drops. In a short while they had secured enough to quench
their intense thirst. This done, they gathered around the captain at
the helm ready to render any assistance in their power. There was
little they could do for the old sailor would trust no one but himself
to steer in the heavy sea-way. As the hours passed by without showing
any abatement of the storm, it became evident to his companions that he
was growing anxious.
"I don't like the way it's hanging on," he declared. "We must be making
at least twelve miles an hour and, at that rate, we will have the land
close aboard before daylight. Crawl forward, Charley, an' keep a sharp
look-out, the sky is clearing some an', I reckon, you can see a few
hundred feet ahead."
The lad obediently worked his way up into the bow, and bracing himself
against the anchor bitts, peered ahead into the darkness. He could make
out nothing at first but the heavy foam-flecked, tossing water. He sat
watching intently till, at last, Walter crawled forward to take his
place. He had only got part way back to the stern when there came a cry
from his chum,
"Hard down! hard down!"
With true seaman's quickness, the Captain jammed the long tiller over
and the little craft, escaping broaching in the trough of the seas by a
miracle, shot up into the wind--a second too late.
"Hang on for your lives!" the old sailor cried.
Black masses loomed out of the darkness to leeward. A great wave picked
up the helpless boat and flung it with crashing, breaking timbers, upon
the rocks.
CHAPTER XIX.
WRECKED.
THE boys had obeyed the old sailor's order, and, though greatly shaken
by the shock, they retained their hold on the boat.
"Quick, get on the rocks," shouted the Captain. "She'll pound to pieces
in a jiffy."
Fortunately, the boat's bow had been driven up on the ledge nearly
out of the water. The boys dropped over the side followed by the
old sailor, and, though beaten and bruised against the sharp rocks
succeeded in struggling out upon the one which reared itself above
the water. They glanced back to where the boat had struck, but, short
as had been their struggle out, it had witnessed the destruction
of the staunch craft. Only that portion of her bow lodged upon the
reef remained intact, the balance of her hull was a mass of twisted,
splintered, broken planks.
Great as was the danger from which they had escaped, their present
position was still far from safe. The slippery rock afforded but
insecure footing and it was frequently swept by the larger seas. At
such times, they had all they could do to keep from being swept off its
slimy surface.
"I reckon, we've struck on a reef," the Captain said, anxiously. "It
all depends upon the tide whether we are safe or not. If it's low tide,
now, high tide will cover this rock so deep that we'll not be able to
hang on to it."
It soon became evident that the tide was still rising, though slowly.
The waves began sweeping over the flat rock with such violence that
the tired, wretched, anxious, little party could hardly maintain their
footing. To the right and left of them, rose other higher masses of
rock, but they did not dare to attempt to reach them through the
darkness and the boiling surf. Wet, cold, hungry, and wretched; they
clung to their insecure refuge until day began to break in the East.
With the coming of light they strained their brine-smarting eyes to
discover what manner of place it was upon which they had been thrown.
The outlook was not reassuring. They were, as the Captain had surmised,
on a point of low-lying reef, most of which was constantly wave-swept
by the monstrous surges. To the East of them, lay a low, marshy shore
dotted here and there with small islands covered with cedar hammocks,
but between them and the islands was at least two miles of foaming
water. The boys gazed wistfully at the longed-for land.
"We can't make it," Charley said, sadly. "Chris might, perhaps, be
able to swim it, but it would be a long swim for the rest of us at any
time, and, tired and weak as we are now, it would be impossible. We
will have to stick it out here until the storm goes down a bit, then,
try to fashion some kind of a raft out of the planks of the diving
boat."
"We can't be far from Judson," said the Captain, with an attempt at
cheerfulness. "A boat may come by an' pick us up any minute."
But the boys were not cheered by any such prospect. They knew that the
chance of any boat being out in such weather was very small indeed.
One fact, however, gave them a little hope; the tide was undoubtedly
falling. It had evidently been almost at its height when they had
landed on the rock.
"I wish we had something to eat," Walter sighed, "we have had nothing
but a little bread in two days. I begin to feel weak all over."
Chris gazed thoughtfully at the water on the shore-side of the rock. "I
reckon, I might find somethin' down dar," he observed. "I'se goin' to
try it anyway. You white chilluns has sho' got to hab somethin' to eat."
Although the water was somewhat smoother to the lee of the rocks,
it boiled and foamed there threateningly and the boys endeavored to
dissuade the plucky little negro from the attempt, but their objections
only made him the more determined.
"Golly! you chilluns doan know what a diver dis nigger is," he said,
proudly. "You jes' stay still an' watch him now." He removed his
clothes, handing them to Charley to hold, slipped over the side of the
rock, and sank down beneath the surface. He was gone so long that the
watchers had begun to grow anxious when he reappeared, blowing like a
porpoise. In one hand, he held tightly clenched, a big stone crab and a
large conch.
"Take 'em," he exclaimed, "I'se goin' down again. Dar's heaps more of
dem on de bottom."
He continued diving until he had brought up six more conchs and two
more crabs, then he crawled out on the rock completely exhausted, and
held up one foot for their inspection. There was a tiny puncture in the
sole of it from which the blood was slowly trickling.
"I reckon, I'se goin' to hab some trubble wid dat foot," he observed,
gravely. "Ole Mister Stingaree gib me a dig dar. He warn't much bigger
dan a plate, but der horns are powerful poison."
His announcement sent a chill of fear to the hearts of his companions,
for they all well-knew the dangerous character of the flat, horn-tailed
fish which lurks on the bottom in Florida waters. The Captain did not
lose a second in whipping out his sheath knife and cutting open the
puncture which he washed out thoroughly with sea water. He then made
Chris sit on the edge of the rock and hang his foot over in the water.
The plucky little negro bore the operation with unflinching
cheerfulness. "I sho' wish you'd open up one ob dem conch for me, Massa
Charley," he observed. "If dis ting's goin' to make me sick, I wants to
be dat much ahead."
Charley quickly broke open one of the conchs and gave him the meat,--a
big lump of tough flesh, almost sufficient for an entire meal. He also
opened several others for the Captain, Walter, and himself, upon which
they made a hearty and strengthening, if somewhat tasteless, meal.
Chris ate but little of the tough meat, he soon pushed it away from him
with a weary little sigh.
"I doan want no moah," he said, quietly. "I'ze gettin' berry sick.
Reckon ole Mister Stingaree dun got dis nigger for sho'."
His little ebony face soon took on a dull-ashen hue and he began to
vomit violently; passing from these spells into a heavy stupor, the
mysterious subtle poison from the stingaree was getting in its work.
His grieving companions watched him in helpless suspense, there was
nothing they could do to relieve his sufferings.
"We can't let him die like this," Charley cried, as the little sufferer
twitched in spasms of pain. "I am going to try to reach shore and find
help. He has taken bigger risks for us many a time."
Neither Walter or the Captain tried to stop him. They would have gladly
offered to make the attempt in his place but he was the strongest and
best swimmer of the three.
He removed his jacket and shoes and with a last good-bye, plunged off
of the rock and headed for the distant shore. He had not gone more than
twenty yards when he stopped with a cry of joy.
"Come on," he called back, "the water isn't more than three feet deep
here. There's only a deep place near the rocks and you can get across
that easily."
But he had to return to help them get Chris across the deep narrow
channel, for the little negro's struggles in his spasms threatened
to drown his helpers. At last, the dangerous stretch of water was
safely crossed, and, leaving Walter and the Captain to half float and
half carry Chris between them, the lad waded ahead, picking out the
shoalest and smoothest path to the shore. They arrived there spent and
panting and sank down for a moment to recover their breath. It was not
an inviting-looking place where they had landed. A low rock-strewn
marsh, covered with tall, rank grass stretched away before them for
two or three miles before it met the higher, heavily-wooded mainland.
Here and there the marsh was dotted with small, island-like clumps of
dark green cedar trees, and, picking up the light, little negro in his
strong, young arms, Charley headed for the nearest of these, followed
by his exhausted companions. The passage was made with difficulty; low
needle-pointed rocks strewed the way, and here and there lay pools
of soft, boggy mud, tenanted by repulsive, swollen looking moccasins.
It needed care to avoid the one without stepping on the other, but,
at last, the patch of high ground was reached and, laying his burden
beneath a wide-spreading cedar, Charley turned to his companions.
"We have got to work quick if we are to stand a chance even of saving
him," he said, crisply. "Walter, get in to the mainland as quick as
you can and bring me all the palmetto berries you can find,--hurry.
Captain, let me take your flint and steel and then get me a lot of soft
mud from the marsh."
Tired though they were, the two hastened away to execute his orders,
while Charley worked swiftly to carry out the plan he had formed while
coming ashore. It was a heroic one, but rough measures were the only
ones it was in his power to apply. Hastily gathering together a pile
of dead cedar limbs, he lit a fire with the flint and steel. While it
was blazing up, he stripped off his belt and, tying it above Chris'
knee, with a stick twisted it tight until it was embedded in the flesh,
shutting off the flow of blood from below to the heart. He next heated
a small stone in the now blazing fire and applied it while hot to the
swollen wound. The smell of the crisping flesh sickened him, but he
doggedly stuck to his task until he judged the wound was sufficiently
cauterized. Chris lay mercifully lost to the pain in a deep stupor. The
lad had just finished burning the wound when the Captain returned with
his jacket full of soft mud, and, emptying it out, hastened back for
another load. Charley heaped a lot of rocks upon the fire, and, as soon
as they were hot, ranged them close on each side of the wounded limb,
heaping the soft mud on top of them until he had formed an air-tight
mound over the leg. He now had a great poultice of hot mud of great
drawing power, the danger was that Chris might be attacked by other
spasms and succeed in working his leg out from the hot covering. To
prevent this, the lad tore his shirt up into strips and, binding the
little negro tightly, piled stones around the encased leg so that it
could not be easily moved.
CHAPTER XX.
HUNTING HELP.
CHARLEY next cut off small branches of cedar and placed them under
the unconscious little fellow's head and back so that he might rest
as comfortably as possible. This done, he sat back breathless and
exhausted and waited impatiently for Walter's return.
Captain Westfield surveyed the young physician's work with hopeful
admiration. "If Chris lives, it will be you as has saved his life," he
declared.
"He has saved mine more than once," Charley replied, "but I am afraid
he is not going to live. I don't like this deep stupor he has fallen
into. I wish Walter would hurry."
Walter had been hurrying as fast as he could, and he soon appeared
bearing a hatful of ripe palmetto berries. His riddled shoes and
bleeding feet told of reckless running over the sharp rocks.
Charley smashed the ripe berries between two stones, catching the juice
in his cap. Chris' teeth were tightly set, but he managed to pry them
apart with his knife blade and forced some of the sticky liquid down
his throat.
"I don't know whether it will help him or not, but I am in hopes it
will," he said, as, tired out, he sat down by the little fellow's side.
"Those berries make a powerful tonic and stimulant, and I believe that
is what is needed. The poison seems to have deadened the heart's action
and brought on that stupor. A few minutes will tell whether it is going
to do any good."
It soon became evident that the rude remedies were performing their
mission well, the sufferer's pulse, which had grown slow and feeble,
quickened, and his little face began to lose some of its ashen hue.
As soon as he became sure that a change for the better was taking
place, Charley arose from his brief rest.
"I am going to find help," he declared. "We must get him to some place
where he can have proper attention. How far do you think we are from
Judson, Captain?"
"Not more than twenty miles to the north of it, I judge. Maybe not more
than ten miles. But you must not dream of starting yet awhile, lad. You
must rest for a bit, an' have something to eat first."
"And I am going with you when you start," Walter declared. "Something
might happen to you amongst those slippery rocks and awful bog holes.
The Captain can do all that can be done for Chris while you are gone."
There was no disputing the wisdom of both suggestions and they busied
themselves with the first proposition, the finding of something to eat.
This demanded more time and trouble. Another trip had to be made down
to the water and considerable searching was necessary before they could
collect enough of crabs and shell fish to make the full meal that their
hunger craved. Their rest they gained while their dinner was roasting
in the coals.
Their rest, meal, and Chris' steadily improving condition, put them all
in better strength and spirits, and the boys were cheerful when they
bid the old sailor good-bye and made their start in search of help.
"We'll be back as soon as we can get back, Captain," Charley said, "but
you don't want to worry if we take longer than you expect."
"I reckon, I'll keep too busy to have much time for worryin'," the old
sailor replied. "Jes' be careful, lads, an' get back as soon as you
can."
He watched until the rank marsh grass hid the two lads from sight,
then busied himself with making the camp a little more comfortable for
himself and his sick companion. Chris' welfare was the first thing to
claim his attention. With his sheath knife he cut armful after armful
of marsh grass and added it to the rough couch Charley had fashioned
for the little negro, converting it into a soft, comfortable bed.
The low-hanging cedar boughs formed a kind of rude shelter over the
little lad, but the captain was not entirely satisfied with it. The
rainy season was near at hand and heavy showers might be expected at
any time. A thick layer of marsh grass placed over the lowest cedar
limbs quickly made the covering more to his satisfaction. This done,
he paused for a brief rest and to decide what should be his next task.
Although, he knew that the port of Judson could not be more than twenty
miles away, he realized that, owing to the necessarily slow traveling
amongst the sharp rocks and bog holes, it might be at least three days
before the boys could succeed in getting back with help. His duties,
then, would be the care of Chris, the providing of food for them both,
and the gathering of firewood. Water was luckily plentiful, there was
an abundance of it in a cup-like depression near the center of the
island.
In a Northern country with no weapons but his sheath knife, these tasks
would have seemed almost impossible of accomplishment, but the captain
was not discouraged. The first thing, of course, was to see that the
little negro's marked improvement was not checked. Heating more stones
in the fire, the old sailor piled them around the mound of mud covering
the wounded leg. Then, as the berries Walter had brought were nearly
exhausted, he decided that the next thing of importance was to lay in
a fresh supply. He found the trip to the mainland slow and dangerous.
Where the way was not strewn with sharp-pointed rocks, it was dotted
with forbidding-looking sink holes of soft, slimy mud. Rank-growing
marsh grass covered the whole, making it extremely difficult to pick
out a safe passage through the dangers. At last, however, he gained
the mainland where he found the oily black berries growing in greatest
profusion. He gathered his jacket full of them and then sat down on a
fallen log to rest a minute and look around. It was an inviting spot in
which he found himself. The land rose up from the marsh to form a high,
sloping bluff through which trickled a stream of clear, reddish water.
The bluff was covered with a dense growth of palms, satinwoods, bays,
rubber trees, and low-ground palmettos. It was an ideal place for a
camp, and the captain eyed it regretfully, wishing that it was possible
to bring Chris there from the little marsh-surrounded island. But
that was impossible until the little fellow was able to walk and he
dismissed the idea with a sigh. He was just gathering up his jacket of
berries to leave when a noise in the undergrowth close at hand made
him sink back to his seat on the log. The brushes before him parted
suddenly and a large deer stepped out into an open place not twenty
feet from where he sat. For a full two minutes, he and the timid animal
remained motionless, looking directly into each other's eyes, then the
old sailor pulled out his sheath knife and sprang for it with some
wild notion of securing it for food, but the deer leaped lightly away
a few steps and stopped again as if in deepest wonder and curiosity.
The captain sheathed his knife with a sigh. "I reckon, you don't know
how wicked men are," he addressed the graceful animal. "Guess you ain't
ever seed many men or you wouldn't be so powerful tame. Some steaks
from you would taste right good, but you ain't aiming to let me get
close enough for that. Well, good-bye, old fellow, I hope I'll meet you
again sometime when I've got a good gun."
Saying which, the old sailor picked up his burden and headed back for
the island, the deer gazing after him in innocent-eyed wonder.
He had nearly reached the little camp when a scream from Chris sent him
forward at a run, regardless of rocks and sink holes.
The scene that met his gaze as he burst into the little clearing
chilled him with horror and dismay.
Attracted, no doubt, by its warmth, two huge, swollen-looking moccasins
had crawled up on the little heap of mud and now lay with their flat,
ugly heads within a few inches of the little negro's trembling body.
"Don't move an inch, Chris," he shouted, as he broke off a dead limb
from a cedar tree.
The caution was useless, for, bound as he was, hand and foot, Chris
could only lay and stare in horror and helplessness.
A couple of well-aimed blows from the stick killed the two poisonous,
sluggish serpents, and, dragging them to the edge of the island, the
captain pitched them out into the marsh.
"They ain't very pleasant visitors," he remarked as he returned to his
helpless companion, "but I reckon, they've done you a heap of good. You
was laying like a dead man when I went ashore and now you look right
pert and lively."
"Dey's too sudden an' powerful medicine," grumbled Chris. "Dis nigger
might jes' as well die as be scart to death. Golly! how my leg does
burn and smart. Please take dat stuff off ob hit, Massa Captain, an'
unloose my han's."
But the old sailor feared to remove the mud poultice, dreading another
relapse. However, he untied the little negro's hands, upon his promise
that he would lie still and not move. He was delighted with the change
in the little lad. Whether the shock from the snakes, or, what was much
more probable, the continued effects of the palmetto juice had done the
work, the stupor which had frightened them all was entirely gone, and
the patient soon declared himself decidedly hungry.
Cutting a stick and laying it within Chris' reach so that he would
have the means of protecting himself from other possible visitors, the
Captain departed in search of food.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CASTAWAYS.
IT was lucky for the captain that he was wise to the resources of the
Florida coast. A stranger to the country would not have known where to
look for food and would likely have soon perished of hunger. Although
he had no other weapon than his sheath knife, he went about his task
with the air of a man who was confident of success. Before leaving the
island, he cut a long, straight cypress pole and sharpened one end to
a keen point. With this in his hand, he made his way down to the Gulf.
The tide was high again but there was a mass of rock some two hundred
feet from shore which protruded a couple of feet above the water.
Removing his shoes, he waded cautiously out, prodding the bottom before
him with his pole and picking his way carefully to avoid stepping on a
stingaree.
The rock reached, he perched himself on its edge and sat peeping down
into the water which was clear as crystal. He had not long to wait. In
a few minutes a fish swam slowly past close to the rock, and, taking
careful aim, the old sailor dove his rude spear down with all his
force. Its point struck just behind the fish's head, passing entirely
through its body. It died without a struggle, and the captain lifted it
out upon the rock with a shout of triumph. It was a beautifully-specked
sea trout about three feet in length and weighed at least twelve
pounds. Although there was plenty of other fish within sight, the
trout was enough for their present needs and, scaling and washing it
carefully, the captain waded ashore with his prize. But he was not yet
quite satisfied. Laying his fish down upon a bunch of clean sea moss,
he examined carefully the muddy beach near the water's edge. Here and
there, tiny jets of water squirted up from the mud, and, where they
seemed to be most numerous, he began to dig. In a few minutes he had
unearthed a couple of dozen large clams. With these and the fish, and a
huge armful of moist sea moss in his arms, he made his way back to camp
where Chris was eagerly awaiting his return.
"I sho' wish I could get up from hyah," mourned the little negro.
"Golly! I reckon, I'd show you how to cook dat fish so dat you nebber
could eat nuff ob hit."
"You jes' lie still thar," commanded the captain. "I'm a Cape Cod man,
an' thar ain't any cook living that can show a Cape Cod man how to cook
this kind of grub. You just watch and learn somethin'."
Chris watched him with professional jealousy and interest. He
firmly believed that no one on earth could cook as good as he but
he reluctantly admitted to himself that the old sailor made his
preparations with considerable promise of success.
First, he scooped out a hole in the ground about three feet deep and
two feet square and kindled a small fire in the bottom upon which he
placed a layer of small rocks, as soon as it was going good, then, he
paused to remark regretfully,
"I wish we had some potatoes. I never heard of a clam bake yet without
potatoes."
"Dar's something jes' as good as 'taters," declared Chris, pointing to
a low-growing plant. "Jes' you dig up some ob dem roots an' try 'em.
Hit's wild cassava, an' hit taste jes' like Irish 'taters."
The captain dug down with his sheath knife and unearthed several tubers
a couple of feet in length and about three inches in circumference. He
regarded them dubiously, but, on Chris' repeated assurances that they
were good and wholesome, he cut off several pieces and washed them
carefully. By the time this was done, the fire in the pit had burned
low, and the stones were smoking hot. Cutting several broad, green,
palmetto leaves, he laid them on the stones and spread over them a thin
layer of the moist sea moss. Upon the moss he laid the fish and over it
spread another layer of moss upon which he placed the clams, covering
them with more moss, upon which he placed the cassava, and, piling a
thick layer of sea grass over the whole, built a small fire on top of
it. Then he sat down and watched the fire while he and Chris waited
hungrily the slow cooking of their meal. At last, the captain declared
that it must be done. The fire on top was raked away, the contents of
the pit were taken out and placed upon green, clean palmetto leaves,
and the two castaways fell-to with appetites sharpened by their long
wait. And what a feast it was,--the clams cooked to perfection in their
own juice, the fish juicy and delicious, the cassava snow-white and
mealy and all rendered doubly delicious by the salt spicy taste of the
seaweed in which they had been cooked. And what a joy it was to feel
that the worst of their troubles were over. Chris getting better, the
boys soon to be back with help, all the worry and anxiety they had
suffered past, the next few days to see them all safely back in Tarpon,
where they would all wait in comfort and safety, ready to claim their
ship when the Greeks brought her in, and, after that, they would return
for the gold and with it they would secure the many things they had
longed for all their lives.
Surely the prospect was bright enough to make the two lonely castaways
chatter brightly, cheerfully, and hopefully over their evening meal.
They could not see the dangers, worries, and misfortunes yet to befall
them, and it was well they could not for it would have robbed the two
of the happiest hour they had had in many days.
At last, the feast was over and Chris had paid the cook the highest
compliment of which he could conceive.
"Golly! Massa Capt., you cooked dem tings might nigh as good as I could
have done."
Although there were many things which the captain wished to do,
darkness was fast coming on and he had to complete his final
preparations for the night. First, he cut a lot of small boughs which
he piled up under the shelter close to Chris to serve as his own bed.
This done, he gathered piles of wood which he spread in a circle around
the big cedar and set on fire to protect them both from chance visits
of snakes during the night. By the time this was finished, it was dark
and he crept in under the shelter close to his dusky little companion
in misfortune, and, after a short, simple prayer full of thankfulness
for their deliverance from the dangers that had threatened them, he
quickly fell into the deep sleep of total exhaustion. But sleep did not
come so readily to Chris. He had slept, or been unconscious, much of
the time since his accident and the stimulating effect of the palmetto
medicine helped to drive slumber away from him. He lay very quiet to
avoid disturbing the old sailor's rest, but, try as he would, he could
not get to sleep. At last he gave up the attempt and lay with eyes
wide open looking out at the stars and the twinkling camp-fires. From
the marsh about came strange noises of the night, the croaking of
multitudes of frogs, the cackle of marsh hens, the squawking of cranes,
and the rustling of the marsh grass in the wind. Slowly the circle of
fire died down, smouldered and went out. Only the big main camp-fire
was left a glowing mass of embers.
Suddenly the wakeful little negro's ears caught another sound mingled
with the voices of the night,--a slow, heavy, creeping noise. For a
time he lay quiet listening, his hearing strained to the utmost to
catch the new strange sound. He waited until there was no doubt that it
was close at hand and steadily drawing nearer, then, he reached over
and shook his snoring companion.
"Wake up, Massa Captain," he cried, "dar's some wild beast a creepin'
into de camp."
"I hear it," agreed the captain, instantly wide awake. "Jes' lay still,
lad, an' don't be frightened. I'll stir up the fire a bit, that will
run it off."
He arose from his couch and strode boldly for the smouldering fire.
"Look out!" Chris yelled, suddenly, "Foah de Lawd's sake, look out!"
His keen eyes had caught a glimpse of a black shape passing between the
old sailor and the mass of glowing embers, but his warning came too
late,--the captain was upon the moving shape before he saw it.
A swishing noise rent the air, a loud thud, the old sailor was knocked
backward several feet flat on the ground, and, with a loud, sharp
bellowing, the mysterious visitor glided away into the darkness.
"Is you hurt? Is you hurt, Massa Cap?" cried the terror-stricken lad.
"A little bit, a little bit," called back the old sailor, his voice
hoarse with pain.
He came creeping back into the shelter on hands and knees.
"It was a big bull alligator," he explained, painfully. "Must have been
twelve feet long. It caught me a fearful blow on the legs with its
tail. I hope thar ain't no bones broken but it feels as though thar
was."
A close examination proved his fears groundless, but the terrible blow
had done all but break the bones. In spite of the pain, however, he
crawled forth again and replenished the fire, but he was faint and
giddy with pain before he succeeded in getting back into the shelter
and stretched out on his couch once more.
"I reckon, I'll be all right by morning," he said, hopefully, "but I
don't calculate I'll be able to sleep any more to-night, my legs hurt
too bad for that. Don't make any difference though, I 'low I've had
enough sleep for one night--it can't be more than a couple of hours
'till daylight."
It proved to be even less and with the coming of light he removed his
trousers and examined his limbs anxiously. He had indeed received a
terrible blow from the prowling monster, both legs were bruised and
swollen where the tail had struck it and it seemed a miracle that the
bones had not been broken. It caused him exquisite pain to rise upon
his feet, but there was work which had to be done, and, in spite of his
suffering, he must do it. So, hiding his pain as well as he could, he
prepared to sally forth to secure food for the day.
But in spite of all his efforts he could not entirely
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