CHAPTER IVA PAIR OF SCHEMERS"The treasure is on the Windjammers' Island!" exclaimed Bob Vilett."Yes," nodded Dave confidently, "I have every reason to think so.""Begorra!" cried the Irishman excitedly. "On my paternal dominions? On the principalities of King Patrick Stoodles? A horse, my kingdom for a--no, I mane a ship. Lad, if the goold those Hankers stole is anywhere among my subjects, we'll have it back, mind me!""Well, let me explain," said Dave, "and then hear what you have to say. We three have shared too many perils and secrets together, to need to be told that all I tell now is in strict confidence until we get ready to act.""Spoke like a lawyer," commented Stoodles."Like a friend, you mean," corrected Bob. "Leave it to smart Dave to work a way out of a dilemma. I'm interested and excited, Dave.""Well, first and foremost," continued Dave, "do you recognize that picture, Bob?"Dave handed out the photograph that Adair had given him on theSwallow."Why, sure," answered Bob promptly. "It's a picture of that rascally pilot.""No, no---I mean the other figure in the photograph.""Oh--oh!" said Bob slowly, studying it. "N-no," he continued, quite as slowly. "Yes--no. H'm! One minute the face looks familiar, the next it looks strange. I can't fix it, although it seems as if I've seen that man before.""You have," declared Dave. "Here, Mr. Stoodles, you take a try.""Yes, there's the pilot," announced Stoodles. "The other is the ould pawnbroker that was on theRaven."Dave's face grew eager and bright with satisfaction."Good for you," he said. "I knew I was right. Yes, that is the man the Hankers picked up at San Francisco--a pawnbroker named Gerstein. He furnished some of the money to fit out their ship for the expedition. Well, my friends, Gerstein, under the false name of Schmitt-Schmitt, is now on this island.""Then theRavencrowd escaped!" exclaimed Bob."I don't know that," answered Dave. "I do know that Schmitt-Schmitt appeared here a few days ago. He has been trying to engage a ship to go after a fortune he says he can find. Of course it's our treasure.""The spalpane! Of coorse it is!" cried Stoodles excitedly."My theory," went on Dave, "is that theRavenwas terribly disabled or lost in the cyclone. I am also pretty sure that the treasure was saved. Perhaps it was already hidden somewhere on land. At all events, Schmitt-Schmitt was in the secret, either as the partner and emissary of others of theRavencrowd or on his own account. He managed to get a small boat afloat, was taken up by a liner, and landed here. Now his whole time is given, as I said, to finding a ship that will go after a fortune, as he terms it, on shares.""Your theory is raisonable, your theory is right," insisted Stoodles."Schmitt-Schmitt," proceeded Dave, "made friends with the governor here. He seems to be staying at the pilot's house. When theSwallowwas sighted he at once reasoned it out that we had discovered the real contents of those four boxes, that we might be bound straight back for the Windjammers' Island. He induced the pilot to run us onto the sunken brig in the creek.""Dave, I believe you've got this matter just right," said Bob thoughtfully."If that is true," continued Dave, "they will do all they can to delay us. Who knows but what this rascally governor and his crew may intend to take theSwallowaway from us and furnish Schmitt-Schmitt with the very means he wants to go after the treasure, with no chance of being followed?""Dave, have you told Captain Broadbeam about all this?" inquired Bob anxiously."I haven't had the chance. I learned what I have told you only in the past hour," responded Dave. "As soon as we return to theSwallow, though, I shall warn him. I had a purpose in coming ashore.""Are we to help you, Dave?" asked Bob."All hands must help. I want to locate the pilot's house, I want to be sure that this Schmitt-Schmitt is really there and that he is the same fellow we knew as Gerstein on theRaven.""That's easy," declared Stoodles. "The picture gives us a hint as to the house.""We will separate so as to excite no notice or suspicions," directed Dave. "Let each one of us find out all he can, and report at this spot in three hours.""In three hours be it," nodded Stoodles, looking very businesslike."All right," assented Bob, taking another good look at the picture of the pilot's house.Dave allowed his two friends to select their own course. Then, when they were out of sight, he took an independent route.He surmised that the pilot would probably live near the water's edge. In this he found his calculations correct, and an hour's search brought some results."That is the house," spoke Dave finally, peering from a clump of thick high bushes. "Yes, there is the very bench the pilot and Schmitt-Schmitt sat on when Mr. Adair took their picture."Before Dave lay a ground plot of considerable extent and fairly smothered in luxurious vegetation, sloping down to the beach. In its center was a lone hut, open and rambling, and having a broad porch that ran clear around it.It was a typical tropical habitation of the poorer class. No one seemed stirring about the place except far back in the rear. Here there was a thick plantation of high resinous bushes. One man was feeding these into a rude grinding mill operated by a big lazy mule treading in a circle.Dave stood quietly in his place of concealment for fully half an hour. The man drove his mule away. The place seemed now entirely deserted. However, just as Dave was about to leave the spot someone came out on the front porch."It's the man. Yes, sure, it is Gerstein--Schmitt-Schmitt!" said Dave.Schmitt-Schmitt was dressed in a thin linen suit. He carried a large but light wicker valise. This he set down beside a bench, looked at his watch, then in the direction of the town, and stretched himself out lazily in a hammock."Looks as if he was going away," mused Dave, critically analyzing all the movements of the person he was spying on. "Looks too as if he was expecting and waiting for somebody--probably the pilot."Dave thought out the situation and its possibilities for about five minutes. He decided to go back to the yawl. Then he realized that he would be considerably interested in hearing what the pilot and his guest might say when they met.Schmitt-Schmitt lay with his back to Dave. On this account, and because of the shelter of many shrubs and bushes, Dave found it no task at all to cover the space unnoticed between his present hiding-place and the porch.Its floor was nearly two feet from the ground. Dave crawled way back under this open space, got pretty nearly under the hammock, and lay on his back. The porch boards were badly warped and splintered, and he could look right up at the hammock and its occupant.At the end of about ten minutes Dave heard footsteps coming up the graveled walk. He turned his eyes sideways and was gratified to recognize the pilot."Whew, this is hot!" ejaculated the owner of the place, stamping heavily across the porch and throwing himself into a chair near the hammock, in which Schmitt-Schmitt now arose to a sitting posture. Then the speaker glanced in the direction of the plantation where Dave had noticed the treadmill."Ah," continued the pilot, with an angry scowl. "That lazy rascal has ceased making the frew-frew? I will cut him half a day's pay.""Yes, it is hot," answered his guest. Each of the precious twain had a language of his own, so they compromised on very broken English."What you done?" asked Schmitt-Schmitt. The pilot chuckled and grinned from ear to ear."I have undone," he said gleefully. "Have I not? But the governor went too far. He charged them prices for repairing theSwallowthe captain wouldn't stand, and he is doing his own repairing.""He is?" cried Schmitt-Schmitt, in a tone of alarm. "He is quick, smart. He will be off in twenty-four hours.""Not at all," declared the pilot calmly. "You wish him delayed? Delay it shall be, a long delay. Delay after delay. Only--my pay must come. The governor's too. We are exceeding the law for you.""Both of you shall be rich--rich! As soon as I get my fortune," promised Schmitt-Schmitt recklessly. "Have you found out for me yet--do they think they have the treasure aboard theSwallow?""They have just found out differently, my spies tell me," said the pilot."Then they will go right back to search for it," declared Schmitt-Schmitt. "I know them--plucky fellows, all. They must be stopped.""Fear not. As I told you," interrupted the pilot calmly, "that end of it is easy. I hope your getting the treasure is as simple.""Get these fellows out of the way, get me a ship, and I will show you," said Schmitt-Schmitt eagerly."One thing at a time, then," Dave heard the pilot say next in order. "See, my friend.""A brush, a little bottle of paint?" inquired Schmitt-Schmitt.Dave wriggled and twisted his neck to get a focus on these two articles, which the pilot held up. Then the pilot leaned over and said something to his companion in so low a tone that Dave could not catch its import."Capital, capital, oh, that is just famous!" gloated Schmitt-Schmitt. "You have found the man to experiment on?""He will be here to-night.""And after the stuff is on?""Bah--a sponge and some turpentine, and the patient recovers.""Good, good!" said Schmitt-Schmitt. "Yes, that will indeed delay theSwallow. Now, listen, my friend: I must not run the risk of being seen by any of theSwallowpeople.""No, indeed.""It would at once give them their cue--my escape from the Windjammers' Island. I have packed my valise, I will disappear for a few days.""Excellent. You will go at once?""I think so. You will remember! A blue light, I am sick or in danger. A red light, I need provisions.""Signal any time from ten to twelve. I will be on the watch. If you say so I will start up the launch at once and take you to your destination.""H'm," mused Dave, as double footsteps sounded the length of the porch. "Some new mysterious trick to delay theSwallow? Schmitt-Schmitt going away somewhere? This is too interesting to miss."Dave crept out from under the porch. He dodged in among some bushes. Peering thence he saw Schmitt-Schmitt leading the way towards the beach, the pilot carrying his wicker satchel.Dave did not venture to follow them direct. He lined the "frew-frew" plantation, and at a clearing in it near the treadmill cut across it.From the grinding-mill a rude wooden trough extended. This was full of a sticky resinous mass, and the ground all round was spattered with the glutinous substance."Frew-frew must be a sort of gum or oil they make from those stalks yonder," decided Dave. "The mischief! it's worse than fly paper."Dave's shoes stuck to broad leaves and lifted them bodily as he walked; they became tangled in vines which raised about him like ropes. He made an effort to get out of the direct zone of stickiness.Dave leaped over the edge of a board where the wooden trough ran in among tangled vines and plants."Oh, yes!" he gasped. In an instant, as his feet struck a soft, giving mass, Dave knew he was in danger. Unconsciously he had landed in the center of an immense cistern--the storage receptacle for the frew-frew product.He tried to reach its edge but was held fast. He struggled to release his limbs but was pulled back and dragged down.Dave sank in five seconds to the neck. His chin went under. As he started to yell his mouth was submerged. With a last dip eyesight was shut out and Dave sank under the sticky mass entirely submerged.CHAPTER VDOCTOR BARRELL'S "ACCIDENT""Begorra!"That was the first expressive word that Dave Fearless heard as he realized that he had been suddenly saved from death by suffocation.His eyes, mouth, ears, and nostrils were oozing with the sticky stuff in which he had taken so dangerous a bath. The top of his head seemed coming off. Dave felt as if he had been scalped.Dave was lying on the grass and Stoodles was working over him, digging and dabbling with a handkerchief to get the youth's eyes and mouth clear of the glutinous "frew-frew.""Sorra a bit too soon was I," said Pat, as Dave blinked and groaned. "I've a lock of your hair for a keepsake, lad! I saw you go into that threacherous pit, I threw a plank across, I grasped your topknot. It was loike taking a drowned cat out of glue. Sit up, if you can't stand up. If you let that stuff harden once, you'll be stiff as a statoo."Dave tried to arise. He dragged grass, dirt, vines, and weeds up with him. By this time he could breathe and see. Stoodles got a stick and scraped off from his clothes as much as he could of the adhesive mass that coated Dave."Come on, lad," directed Stoodles, grasping an arm of his tottering companion. "It's a brickdust bath in soft soap you'll be needing. Acushla! but I stick to you like a brother."Dave's feet gathered up everything they came in contact with. Then, every time he brushed a bit of foliage, the frew-frew took off leaves, and he began to look green and picturesque."Where is Bob Vilett?" he asked."I dunno," answered Stoodles. "I do know it was lucky I saw you thrailing the pilot and that rascally pawnbroker. If I hadn't you'd have been a goner, Dave Fearless.""I guess I should," responded Dave, with a shudder, and then a grateful look at this eccentric but loyal friend. "Where have those two gone--did you notice, Mr. Stoodles?""Only that they set off seaward in a little launch.""Get me to theSwallow, I have a lot to tell Captain Broadbeam now."They lined the beach. A good many craft of various kinds were visible in the opening. All of them were too far distant to enable Dave to make out which one might contain the pilot and Schmitt-Schmitt.When they got to the place of rendezvous where they had left the ship's yawl, Bob Vilett was discovered lying on the sand."Wandered off on a wrong trail," he reported; "wasted time and thought I was due here. Dave, what have you been into!""Frew-frew, I believe they call it, Bob.""Phew-phew I'd call it," remarked Pat. "Up with the jibboom and across the briny, Bob. If we don't get our friend Fearless into hot water and soap soon, we'll have to chip off his coat of mail with chisels."When they reached theSwallowthey found the steamer the center of vast bustle and industry. Captain Broadbeam had keeled the craft and gangs of men were working inside and outside to repair the breaks in the hull.The cabins and forecastle were accessible, but Mike Conners had temporarily removed cooking headquarters to a tent at the side of the creek. Stoodles sought out Mr. Drake, the boatswain, and explained Dave's dilemma. They rigged up a canvas bathroom on shore and supplied it with brushes, two tubs of boiling suds, and plenty of soap.It took Dave over an hour to get off the worst of the villainous frew-frew. His hair was the hardest to clean. Finally he emerged, fresh and tingling in every nerve from the vigorous bath.They had supper ashore and hammocks were rigged up under the trees. Captain Broadbeam set a guard about camp and ship. About half the crew decided to quit and he paid them off. They and curious visitors from the town were warned to keep away from theSwallow.About dusk Captain Broadbeam had given out all necessary orders for the night."Well, lad," he said, coming up to Dave and placing his hand on the youth's shoulder in his usually friendly way, "I understand you have something important to tell me.""Yes, considerable," answered Dave."All right. The others interested must hear it, too. We'll hold a council of war in my cabin."Dave's father, Doctor Barrell, Stoodles, and Bob Vilett were invited to accompany the captain and Dave to theSwallow. The six of them soon found themselves seated in the captain's cabin. It slanted slightly from the present awkward position of the ship, but they managed to adjust the stools and settees comfortably."Now then, lad," spoke Captain Broadbeam to Dave, "my old friend here, your father, has intimated to me that you have discovered some things of general interest to all of us.""I think I have," said Dave."Then fire away, my hearty."Dave began his story with a narration of the visit to theSwallowof the young artist Adair. He followed this up with his discovery of Schmitt-Schmitt, and his overhearing of the conversation between that worthy and the treacherous native pilot.Captain Broadbeam was interested from the first; when it became apparent from Dave's clear, logical story that the stolen treasure was still somewhere in the vicinity of the Windjammers' Island, the old tar's eyes glistened and he looked eager and excited. Then, as Dave told of the evident existence of a plot to delay, possibly destroy, theSwallow, Captain Broadbeam sprang to his feet."Delay me, will they?" he shouted, growing red of face and blazing with anger. "Why, the miserable scum! if they so much as hang around here I'll fill them with a charge of pepper and salt. If I catch them up to any tricks aboard, I'll swing them from the yardarm."The doughty old mariner paced the cabin in a fine rage. When he had subsided Dave approached the subject nearest his thoughts."Captain," he began, "from what I have told don't you really think my theories are right as to the treasure being hidden?""I do, lad, I'll admit that," growled the captain."And that this fellow Schmitt-Schmitt is an emissary of the Hankers and theRaven, looking for a ship to go after the treasure?""Mebbe, lad, mebbe.""Then what is the matter with hurrying up your repairs and getting back to the Windjammers' Island before Schmitt-Schmitt? Don't you see, captain, we are bound to locate theRavencrew, if they are there?"Captain Broadbeam sank to a stool, bent his head, and groaned."Lad," he said, "I know what you want to do and what I'd like to do. It can't be done--no, no.""Captain," interrupted Amos Fearless, in an eager, quivering tone, "we are old friends----""Belay there!" roared the veteran tar, springing to his feet and waving his ponderous arms like windmills. "Would ye tempt a man from his duty who has never yet over-stepped discipline? That duty is plain, Amos Fearless. This hereSwallowwas sent out to collect curiosities for the United States Government. Those curiosities are duly collected. Incidentally I helped you fellows all I could on the side. Now it's San Francisco. Them's my sailing orders. There's my duty.""Ochone!" groaned Pat Stoodles, "and phwat of the foine treasure?""I'm out of this hornets' nest here the minute theSwallowis seaworthy," announced Broadbeam. "The minute I land at San Francisco and get my clearance, I'll hark back to the Windjammers with you if I have to put all my savings into chartering a ship specially.""It will be too late then, captain," murmured Dave, in a dejected tone."Sorry," said the commander of theSwallow. "I am responsible to the owners. Why, friends, if I should step outside of my duty I am personally liable to a fine that would make me a ruined man and a pauper."Dave gave a queer start at this, a quick color came into his cheek, a quick flicker into his eyes. He gazed at Stoodles in an eager, speculative way."One moment, captain, please," he said, arising and beckoning Stoodles to follow him from the cabin, "I have just thought of something important. I hope you will not decide finally on this matter until I have had a word in private with Mr. Stoodles.""Surely not, lad," nodded the captain, but in some wonder regarding this peculiar move on the part of the young fellow he had grown to like greatly.Silence fell over the little coterie in the cabin then. They could hear the low hum of voices outside; Dave talking rapidly and earnestly, and such violent ejaculations from Stoodles now and then as "Begorra!" "Luk at that now!" "Bedad!" and the like.When Dave came back into the cabin he was calm and collected, but Stoodles squirmed about with a wise, important look on his moonlike face."Captain Broadbeam," said Dave, "I have just consulted with Mr. Stoodles on a matter covering his ability to raise a certain sum of money."The captain of theSwallowgrinned. It was so ridiculous to think of Stoodles ever earning or saving a penny that he could not well help it."Yes," announced Pat gravely, "by my royal authority as king of the Windjammers' Island.""Nonsense," muttered Captain Broadbeam."You will take my word for it, captain, won't you?" insinuated Dave, in his smooth, convincing way. "I can say to you positively that if you will land Mr. Stoodles among his former subjects for a single hour, and later safely at San Francisco, he will be prepared to pay you five thousand dollars to meet any fines the owners of theSwallowmay assess you for going back there.""Why, Dave," began Mr. Fearless in wonderment--but Bob Vilett interrupted."If Dave says five thousand dollars, he means five thousand dollars.""Remarkable!" commented Doctor Barrell, surveying Dave in astonishment through his eyeglasses close-set.Captain Broadbeam was impressed. He studied Dave and Stoodles speculatively."How can you possibly get that sum of money?" he demanded."We can," declared Dave positively, "can't we, Mr. Stoodles?""Begorra! and ten if we nade it!" cried Pat enthusiastically. "Oh, the broth of a boy! It takes my friend Dave Fearless for brains.""Of course it is a secret," said Dave."A deadly saycret--I mane a close one," declared Stoodles. "I never knew how rich I was till the lad told me just now.""Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Captain Broadbeam, dismissing the matter with a worried motion of his hand. "Money can't count in this case. My duty is plain! I was ordered to sail for the home port as soon as the government collection was made. Doctor Barrell reported a month ago that he had finished that collection.""H'm, just so," observed Doctor Barrell, "but, my dear sir--ha, a thought. A moment, Captain Broadbeam, just a moment.""Thunder!" whistled Bob Vilett amazedly in his chum's ear. "What does that mean now?"Dave shook his head in silent wonderment. Doctor Barrell had winked at them in a quizzical, encouraging way that was mightily suggestive.To have the high-class old scientist so far forget his dignity was a most remarkable thing.They heard Doctor Barrell stumbling about in the aft cabin where he had stored some of the curiosities he had gathered for the government.Suddenly there was a loud bump followed by a great clash. The next minute the doctor burst into the captain's cabin holding aloft two cracked and broken specimens of starfish."Captain," he cried--"bad accident! The collection is incomplete. See, Captain Broadbeam, the only specimens of theMercuria stellaticuswe had, destroyed, case tipped over."The commander of theSwallowbestowed a searching look on the speaker, but was silent. "They are to be found only at the Windjammers' Island," went on Doctor Barrell. "Oh, dear, dear! This will, I fear, necessitate a return to the island.""Oh, will it?" snorted the captain sarcastically. "So, you're in the plot, too, to lure me from my duty, hey, you old conspirator? Well, you mutinous old humbug, after breaking your mercurian stellians purposely, you'll not get me to go a single knot back on the west course till you sign a paper officially ordering me to do so as a necessity of the expedition.""Pen and ink--quick," chuckled Doctor Barrell. "Captain," he added pathetically, indicating their sturdy, loyal companions with a kindly affectionate wave of his hand, "their hearts are set on that stolen treasure, rightly too. They are our true, good friends. Honestly, won't you be glad to help them try and find it?""Shiver my timbers, but you're a set of conspiring mutineers!" roared the captain doughtily, but the fierce words were spoken with a secret chuckle.CHAPTER VITHE PILOT'S PLOT"Hurrah!" shouted Bob Vilett, tossing his cap up in the air."Don't crow too quickly, Bob," warned Dave Fearless. "We're not out of the woods yet.""And don't you croak," retorted the sprightly young engineer of theSwallow. "Captain Broadbeam says that by this time to-morrow we will be on our way to the Windjammers' Island.""Yes," nodded Dave significantly, "provided they let us start.""Eh, who?" demanded Bob."The governor here and the pilot, Schmitt-Schmitt, the whole crowd, who I am persuaded are in league to delay us.""Oh, nonsense," cried Bob airily. "What right have they to interfere with our business?""What right had they to wreck theSwallow?" inquired Dave pertinently. "I don't say they will dare to try to make us any further trouble, but they have planned to, that I know, and every one of us must keep our eyes wide open until we leave Minotaur Island far to the rear."For all Dave's misgivings, however, he was a happy, hopeful boy. It had been settled that they should return to the Windjammers' Island to secure duplicates of theMercuria stellaticuswhich Doctor Barrell had disposed of by accident."The royal old trump!" Bob Vilett had enthused. "Good-by to that treasure if the doctor hadn't acted so promptly. But I say, Dave, what was that bluff you and Stoodles worked up about five thousand dollars?""No bluff at all, as you call it," declared Dave seriously. "A hint from that artist Adair gave me a fine suggestion. Stoodles can easily make five, ten, yes, maybe twenty thousand dollars if he has a chance to once more, even for a single hour, regain his position as king of the Windjammers.""If I didn't know you so well, Dave Fearless," said Bob gravely, "I'd say you was romancing.""Wait till you see the reality, Bob," advised Dave, with a confident smile. "By the way, about this same secret of Stoodles'--I must make some purchases in the town to-day."Just after noon, in pursuance with this suggestion, Dave was rowed to the town by the boatswain and two others of the crew of theSwallow.When he returned he carried two heavy boxes, storing them safely under lock and key in the purser's own closet.The inquisitive Bob tried to pump Stoodles, but it was of no avail. Pat looked crafty and wise, and only muttered some remarks about his royal prerogative and the like.By sundown theSwallowhad been completely repaired. She was righted and cleaned up, and everything put in order for a run to Mercury Island. Captain Broadbeam decided to provision up there. He was uneasy every minute he dallied among the tricky inhabitants of Minotaur Island.They were short-handed as to a crew, on account of the desertions of the day previous. Several natives had applied for work, but the captain was distrustful of them as spies.The second mate had several times gone to the main harbor port in search of English sailors, but there chanced to be none unemployed just then. He did manage, however, to pick up one recruit. This was a sickly-looking white man who called himself Tompkins. He was quiet and industrious, and wanted to go as far as Mercury Island, he said to the captain, who entered him regularly on the crew's list.There had been a great ado that afternoon over maps, charts, and other details pertaining to a long cruise. Captain Broadbeam had engaged Dave in conversation several times about his discoveries and theories.Both the captain and Amos Fearless now believed that Dave had reasoned out matters concerning the stolen treasure just as they existed in fact.They could not hope to gain any specific information from Schmitt-Schmitt, even if they learned where he was now keeping himself in seclusion."No," Captain Broadbeam had concluded, "we won't stir up affairs any further hereabouts. We will let the people here believe that we are going home to the United States. Schmitt-Schmitt never dreams that we know of his living here. His suspicions will be allayed. We shall leave a clear field and probably get to the Windjammers' Island before he even finds a ship to go in search of the treasure."The camp on shore was now broken up and its temporary equipment moved back to theSwallow. The work on the steamer was all in shipshape order by supper time. The men had labored diligently, and the captain ordered an extra-fine meal.It was an hour of typical comfort. A brisk breeze had cooled the air, the sky was bright and clear, the surroundings picturesque and beautiful.Some of the sailors were singing a jaunty rollicking sea ditty. Dave and Bob paced the after-deck full of their plans for the prospective voyage to begin on the morrow."This is certainly life as she is on the ocean wave," declared Bob enthusiastically."I love the smell of the brine, Bob," said Dave. "I was born breathing it, and now the seafaring life seems to be a regular business proposition with me.""Good business, if you recover all that money," observed Bob."Look there, Bob," spoke Dave suddenly.His companion turned. Facing the coast end of the creek a gruesome-looking craft with black funnels, and odd and awkward of shape, was hovering about the mouth of the little inlet."Hello," exclaimed Bob, "that's the government ironclad. What's she doing here?""Yes," nodded Dave, taking up a telescope and looking through it, "that's theChili, the governor's special warship, sure. They say she's a poor apology of a craft. Bought her second-hand from some English shipyard. They are putting off a yawl.""Going to visit us?" inquired Bob."It looks that way.""More trouble?" insinuated Bob."More meddling and spying, more like," said Dave.Both boys watched a natty, well-manned yawl come spinning up the creek towards theSwallow.The Chilian colors adorned the bow, indicating an official visit. A man in military dress directed the boat. Beside him sat another of the governor's aides in semi-official uniform.Dave called Captain Broadbeam, and all hands on board theSwallowwere now interested in the approaching yawl."Colonel José Silverado, from his excellency the governor," announced the officer in charge of the yawl as he neared the side of the steamer."Coming aboard?" asked Broadbeam, in his blunt, gruff way."On duty, yes," responded the officer, very politely, but with a covert grin. "The governor's physician--Dr. Monterey," added the officer, indicating his companion.Captain Broadbeam bowed brusquely, and with surly and suspicious mien awaited the further pleasure of the governor's envoy.The officer glanced keenly all about the ship. Then he took a card from his pocket and scanned it."Sorry to trouble you, captain," he said, "but we have reason to believe that you have a refugee aboard your ship.""A refugee?" repeated Broadbeam, with a start. "Who is he?""Man named Tompkins.""Why, yes," admitted the captain, "we have a new man here by that name.""Will you kindly summon him? We have business with him. That is the man, doctor?" inquired the officer, as the sickly-looking fellow employed by theSwallowthat morning slipped out from among the crew at a call from Captain Broadbeam."Ah, yes," nodded the governor's physician, eying Tompkins critically. "My man, you are making us a whole heap of trouble, it seems."Tompkins looked confused and ill at ease, gazing surlily at the deck."What's the matter with him?" demanded the captain."Suspect," announced the officer quickly. "Came in on a fruit boat a few days ago. Boat infected, and this man and the others put in quarantine. He got away. Look him over, doctor."Monterey stepped up to Tompkins. He examined his pulse and his tongue and tapped him on the chest. Then he said tersely:"Strip."Tompkins pulled off his shirt. As his naked back came into view several of the crew curiously regarding the scene uttered quick, startled exclamations.Across the chest, shoulders, and arms of the suspect, the refugee, were half-a-hundred purple-black blotches."Spotted fever," said the governor's physician, stepping back as if his task was done and over with."Tut! tut! Too bad," observed Silverado. "Captain, I regret to say that this is a quarantine case.""Eh? Oh, just so," responded Broadbeam. "Well, take him to the pesthouse, then."The officer shook his head slowly."Gone too far for that," he said. "He has probably infected the others. Let no man leave the ship," he called out loudly to some of the crew who were moving away in the haste of fright. "I declare this ship in a state of quarantine," pursued Silverado, in a tone of command, producing a document bearing an official red seal. "We will send you a yellow flag, captain, and you will remain here subject to official orders.""Quarantined?" cried the captain, bristling up. "And for spotted fever? See here, colonel, we have a skilled physician on board. We will move out to sea at once and take our own risk on this matter.""Impossible," dissented Silverado, smiling sweetly, but with the latent malice of triumph in his undertone. "Law of the nations--no right to imperil the general safety. No, within two weeks we will give you clearance if no new cases break out. Meantime----"The officer coolly affixed the sealed document in his hand to the mainmast.Captain Broadbeam wriggled, fumed, groaned. He was too thorough a seaman to mistake his predicament. His brow grew dark and threatening."Bob, quick, come here."With a violent jerk Dave Fearless pulled his startled chum to one side."Quick as you can," he spoke rapidly, "rush to the purser. Tell him to instantly send me up a rag that has been well saturated in turpentine.""Why, Dave----""No questions, no delay," ordered Dave peremptorily.Bob shot away on his mission, Dave set his teeth, breathing hard. In a flash a sinister suspicion had arisen in his mind. Like lightning memory flew back to the overheard interview on the porch of the native pilot between that crafty individual and the tricky Schmitt-Schmitt."He said he could delay theSwallow, he hinted at spots, some paint, at washing them off," mused Dave. "Good for you. Hold on."Dave snatched the rag soaked with turpentine from Bob Vilett's hands. He ran forward now to where his friends were depressedly watching Tompkins arranging his shirt to replace it.Dave made a dash at the man. He held him firmly by one shoulder. With his free hand he slapped the rag briskly over his bare flesh to and fro.Dave's eyes sparkled immediately with the intensest satisfaction. One by one the dark spots on the back of Tompkins began to disappear."Captain Broadbeam," cried Dave, pulling the squirming Tompkins around into full view, "a paint-trick. This man has got no more spotted fever than I have myself."
CHAPTER IV
A PAIR OF SCHEMERS
"The treasure is on the Windjammers' Island!" exclaimed Bob Vilett.
"Yes," nodded Dave confidently, "I have every reason to think so."
"Begorra!" cried the Irishman excitedly. "On my paternal dominions? On the principalities of King Patrick Stoodles? A horse, my kingdom for a--no, I mane a ship. Lad, if the goold those Hankers stole is anywhere among my subjects, we'll have it back, mind me!"
"Well, let me explain," said Dave, "and then hear what you have to say. We three have shared too many perils and secrets together, to need to be told that all I tell now is in strict confidence until we get ready to act."
"Spoke like a lawyer," commented Stoodles.
"Like a friend, you mean," corrected Bob. "Leave it to smart Dave to work a way out of a dilemma. I'm interested and excited, Dave."
"Well, first and foremost," continued Dave, "do you recognize that picture, Bob?"
Dave handed out the photograph that Adair had given him on theSwallow.
"Why, sure," answered Bob promptly. "It's a picture of that rascally pilot."
"No, no---I mean the other figure in the photograph."
"Oh--oh!" said Bob slowly, studying it. "N-no," he continued, quite as slowly. "Yes--no. H'm! One minute the face looks familiar, the next it looks strange. I can't fix it, although it seems as if I've seen that man before."
"You have," declared Dave. "Here, Mr. Stoodles, you take a try."
"Yes, there's the pilot," announced Stoodles. "The other is the ould pawnbroker that was on theRaven."
Dave's face grew eager and bright with satisfaction.
"Good for you," he said. "I knew I was right. Yes, that is the man the Hankers picked up at San Francisco--a pawnbroker named Gerstein. He furnished some of the money to fit out their ship for the expedition. Well, my friends, Gerstein, under the false name of Schmitt-Schmitt, is now on this island."
"Then theRavencrowd escaped!" exclaimed Bob.
"I don't know that," answered Dave. "I do know that Schmitt-Schmitt appeared here a few days ago. He has been trying to engage a ship to go after a fortune he says he can find. Of course it's our treasure."
"The spalpane! Of coorse it is!" cried Stoodles excitedly.
"My theory," went on Dave, "is that theRavenwas terribly disabled or lost in the cyclone. I am also pretty sure that the treasure was saved. Perhaps it was already hidden somewhere on land. At all events, Schmitt-Schmitt was in the secret, either as the partner and emissary of others of theRavencrowd or on his own account. He managed to get a small boat afloat, was taken up by a liner, and landed here. Now his whole time is given, as I said, to finding a ship that will go after a fortune, as he terms it, on shares."
"Your theory is raisonable, your theory is right," insisted Stoodles.
"Schmitt-Schmitt," proceeded Dave, "made friends with the governor here. He seems to be staying at the pilot's house. When theSwallowwas sighted he at once reasoned it out that we had discovered the real contents of those four boxes, that we might be bound straight back for the Windjammers' Island. He induced the pilot to run us onto the sunken brig in the creek."
"Dave, I believe you've got this matter just right," said Bob thoughtfully.
"If that is true," continued Dave, "they will do all they can to delay us. Who knows but what this rascally governor and his crew may intend to take theSwallowaway from us and furnish Schmitt-Schmitt with the very means he wants to go after the treasure, with no chance of being followed?"
"Dave, have you told Captain Broadbeam about all this?" inquired Bob anxiously.
"I haven't had the chance. I learned what I have told you only in the past hour," responded Dave. "As soon as we return to theSwallow, though, I shall warn him. I had a purpose in coming ashore."
"Are we to help you, Dave?" asked Bob.
"All hands must help. I want to locate the pilot's house, I want to be sure that this Schmitt-Schmitt is really there and that he is the same fellow we knew as Gerstein on theRaven."
"That's easy," declared Stoodles. "The picture gives us a hint as to the house."
"We will separate so as to excite no notice or suspicions," directed Dave. "Let each one of us find out all he can, and report at this spot in three hours."
"In three hours be it," nodded Stoodles, looking very businesslike.
"All right," assented Bob, taking another good look at the picture of the pilot's house.
Dave allowed his two friends to select their own course. Then, when they were out of sight, he took an independent route.
He surmised that the pilot would probably live near the water's edge. In this he found his calculations correct, and an hour's search brought some results.
"That is the house," spoke Dave finally, peering from a clump of thick high bushes. "Yes, there is the very bench the pilot and Schmitt-Schmitt sat on when Mr. Adair took their picture."
Before Dave lay a ground plot of considerable extent and fairly smothered in luxurious vegetation, sloping down to the beach. In its center was a lone hut, open and rambling, and having a broad porch that ran clear around it.
It was a typical tropical habitation of the poorer class. No one seemed stirring about the place except far back in the rear. Here there was a thick plantation of high resinous bushes. One man was feeding these into a rude grinding mill operated by a big lazy mule treading in a circle.
Dave stood quietly in his place of concealment for fully half an hour. The man drove his mule away. The place seemed now entirely deserted. However, just as Dave was about to leave the spot someone came out on the front porch.
"It's the man. Yes, sure, it is Gerstein--Schmitt-Schmitt!" said Dave.
Schmitt-Schmitt was dressed in a thin linen suit. He carried a large but light wicker valise. This he set down beside a bench, looked at his watch, then in the direction of the town, and stretched himself out lazily in a hammock.
"Looks as if he was going away," mused Dave, critically analyzing all the movements of the person he was spying on. "Looks too as if he was expecting and waiting for somebody--probably the pilot."
Dave thought out the situation and its possibilities for about five minutes. He decided to go back to the yawl. Then he realized that he would be considerably interested in hearing what the pilot and his guest might say when they met.
Schmitt-Schmitt lay with his back to Dave. On this account, and because of the shelter of many shrubs and bushes, Dave found it no task at all to cover the space unnoticed between his present hiding-place and the porch.
Its floor was nearly two feet from the ground. Dave crawled way back under this open space, got pretty nearly under the hammock, and lay on his back. The porch boards were badly warped and splintered, and he could look right up at the hammock and its occupant.
At the end of about ten minutes Dave heard footsteps coming up the graveled walk. He turned his eyes sideways and was gratified to recognize the pilot.
"Whew, this is hot!" ejaculated the owner of the place, stamping heavily across the porch and throwing himself into a chair near the hammock, in which Schmitt-Schmitt now arose to a sitting posture. Then the speaker glanced in the direction of the plantation where Dave had noticed the treadmill.
"Ah," continued the pilot, with an angry scowl. "That lazy rascal has ceased making the frew-frew? I will cut him half a day's pay."
"Yes, it is hot," answered his guest. Each of the precious twain had a language of his own, so they compromised on very broken English.
"What you done?" asked Schmitt-Schmitt. The pilot chuckled and grinned from ear to ear.
"I have undone," he said gleefully. "Have I not? But the governor went too far. He charged them prices for repairing theSwallowthe captain wouldn't stand, and he is doing his own repairing."
"He is?" cried Schmitt-Schmitt, in a tone of alarm. "He is quick, smart. He will be off in twenty-four hours."
"Not at all," declared the pilot calmly. "You wish him delayed? Delay it shall be, a long delay. Delay after delay. Only--my pay must come. The governor's too. We are exceeding the law for you."
"Both of you shall be rich--rich! As soon as I get my fortune," promised Schmitt-Schmitt recklessly. "Have you found out for me yet--do they think they have the treasure aboard theSwallow?"
"They have just found out differently, my spies tell me," said the pilot.
"Then they will go right back to search for it," declared Schmitt-Schmitt. "I know them--plucky fellows, all. They must be stopped."
"Fear not. As I told you," interrupted the pilot calmly, "that end of it is easy. I hope your getting the treasure is as simple."
"Get these fellows out of the way, get me a ship, and I will show you," said Schmitt-Schmitt eagerly.
"One thing at a time, then," Dave heard the pilot say next in order. "See, my friend."
"A brush, a little bottle of paint?" inquired Schmitt-Schmitt.
Dave wriggled and twisted his neck to get a focus on these two articles, which the pilot held up. Then the pilot leaned over and said something to his companion in so low a tone that Dave could not catch its import.
"Capital, capital, oh, that is just famous!" gloated Schmitt-Schmitt. "You have found the man to experiment on?"
"He will be here to-night."
"And after the stuff is on?"
"Bah--a sponge and some turpentine, and the patient recovers."
"Good, good!" said Schmitt-Schmitt. "Yes, that will indeed delay theSwallow. Now, listen, my friend: I must not run the risk of being seen by any of theSwallowpeople."
"No, indeed."
"It would at once give them their cue--my escape from the Windjammers' Island. I have packed my valise, I will disappear for a few days."
"Excellent. You will go at once?"
"I think so. You will remember! A blue light, I am sick or in danger. A red light, I need provisions."
"Signal any time from ten to twelve. I will be on the watch. If you say so I will start up the launch at once and take you to your destination."
"H'm," mused Dave, as double footsteps sounded the length of the porch. "Some new mysterious trick to delay theSwallow? Schmitt-Schmitt going away somewhere? This is too interesting to miss."
Dave crept out from under the porch. He dodged in among some bushes. Peering thence he saw Schmitt-Schmitt leading the way towards the beach, the pilot carrying his wicker satchel.
Dave did not venture to follow them direct. He lined the "frew-frew" plantation, and at a clearing in it near the treadmill cut across it.
From the grinding-mill a rude wooden trough extended. This was full of a sticky resinous mass, and the ground all round was spattered with the glutinous substance.
"Frew-frew must be a sort of gum or oil they make from those stalks yonder," decided Dave. "The mischief! it's worse than fly paper."
Dave's shoes stuck to broad leaves and lifted them bodily as he walked; they became tangled in vines which raised about him like ropes. He made an effort to get out of the direct zone of stickiness.
Dave leaped over the edge of a board where the wooden trough ran in among tangled vines and plants.
"Oh, yes!" he gasped. In an instant, as his feet struck a soft, giving mass, Dave knew he was in danger. Unconsciously he had landed in the center of an immense cistern--the storage receptacle for the frew-frew product.
He tried to reach its edge but was held fast. He struggled to release his limbs but was pulled back and dragged down.
Dave sank in five seconds to the neck. His chin went under. As he started to yell his mouth was submerged. With a last dip eyesight was shut out and Dave sank under the sticky mass entirely submerged.
CHAPTER V
DOCTOR BARRELL'S "ACCIDENT"
"Begorra!"
That was the first expressive word that Dave Fearless heard as he realized that he had been suddenly saved from death by suffocation.
His eyes, mouth, ears, and nostrils were oozing with the sticky stuff in which he had taken so dangerous a bath. The top of his head seemed coming off. Dave felt as if he had been scalped.
Dave was lying on the grass and Stoodles was working over him, digging and dabbling with a handkerchief to get the youth's eyes and mouth clear of the glutinous "frew-frew."
"Sorra a bit too soon was I," said Pat, as Dave blinked and groaned. "I've a lock of your hair for a keepsake, lad! I saw you go into that threacherous pit, I threw a plank across, I grasped your topknot. It was loike taking a drowned cat out of glue. Sit up, if you can't stand up. If you let that stuff harden once, you'll be stiff as a statoo."
Dave tried to arise. He dragged grass, dirt, vines, and weeds up with him. By this time he could breathe and see. Stoodles got a stick and scraped off from his clothes as much as he could of the adhesive mass that coated Dave.
"Come on, lad," directed Stoodles, grasping an arm of his tottering companion. "It's a brickdust bath in soft soap you'll be needing. Acushla! but I stick to you like a brother."
Dave's feet gathered up everything they came in contact with. Then, every time he brushed a bit of foliage, the frew-frew took off leaves, and he began to look green and picturesque.
"Where is Bob Vilett?" he asked.
"I dunno," answered Stoodles. "I do know it was lucky I saw you thrailing the pilot and that rascally pawnbroker. If I hadn't you'd have been a goner, Dave Fearless."
"I guess I should," responded Dave, with a shudder, and then a grateful look at this eccentric but loyal friend. "Where have those two gone--did you notice, Mr. Stoodles?"
"Only that they set off seaward in a little launch."
"Get me to theSwallow, I have a lot to tell Captain Broadbeam now."
They lined the beach. A good many craft of various kinds were visible in the opening. All of them were too far distant to enable Dave to make out which one might contain the pilot and Schmitt-Schmitt.
When they got to the place of rendezvous where they had left the ship's yawl, Bob Vilett was discovered lying on the sand.
"Wandered off on a wrong trail," he reported; "wasted time and thought I was due here. Dave, what have you been into!"
"Frew-frew, I believe they call it, Bob."
"Phew-phew I'd call it," remarked Pat. "Up with the jibboom and across the briny, Bob. If we don't get our friend Fearless into hot water and soap soon, we'll have to chip off his coat of mail with chisels."
When they reached theSwallowthey found the steamer the center of vast bustle and industry. Captain Broadbeam had keeled the craft and gangs of men were working inside and outside to repair the breaks in the hull.
The cabins and forecastle were accessible, but Mike Conners had temporarily removed cooking headquarters to a tent at the side of the creek. Stoodles sought out Mr. Drake, the boatswain, and explained Dave's dilemma. They rigged up a canvas bathroom on shore and supplied it with brushes, two tubs of boiling suds, and plenty of soap.
It took Dave over an hour to get off the worst of the villainous frew-frew. His hair was the hardest to clean. Finally he emerged, fresh and tingling in every nerve from the vigorous bath.
They had supper ashore and hammocks were rigged up under the trees. Captain Broadbeam set a guard about camp and ship. About half the crew decided to quit and he paid them off. They and curious visitors from the town were warned to keep away from theSwallow.
About dusk Captain Broadbeam had given out all necessary orders for the night.
"Well, lad," he said, coming up to Dave and placing his hand on the youth's shoulder in his usually friendly way, "I understand you have something important to tell me."
"Yes, considerable," answered Dave.
"All right. The others interested must hear it, too. We'll hold a council of war in my cabin."
Dave's father, Doctor Barrell, Stoodles, and Bob Vilett were invited to accompany the captain and Dave to theSwallow. The six of them soon found themselves seated in the captain's cabin. It slanted slightly from the present awkward position of the ship, but they managed to adjust the stools and settees comfortably.
"Now then, lad," spoke Captain Broadbeam to Dave, "my old friend here, your father, has intimated to me that you have discovered some things of general interest to all of us."
"I think I have," said Dave.
"Then fire away, my hearty."
Dave began his story with a narration of the visit to theSwallowof the young artist Adair. He followed this up with his discovery of Schmitt-Schmitt, and his overhearing of the conversation between that worthy and the treacherous native pilot.
Captain Broadbeam was interested from the first; when it became apparent from Dave's clear, logical story that the stolen treasure was still somewhere in the vicinity of the Windjammers' Island, the old tar's eyes glistened and he looked eager and excited. Then, as Dave told of the evident existence of a plot to delay, possibly destroy, theSwallow, Captain Broadbeam sprang to his feet.
"Delay me, will they?" he shouted, growing red of face and blazing with anger. "Why, the miserable scum! if they so much as hang around here I'll fill them with a charge of pepper and salt. If I catch them up to any tricks aboard, I'll swing them from the yardarm."
The doughty old mariner paced the cabin in a fine rage. When he had subsided Dave approached the subject nearest his thoughts.
"Captain," he began, "from what I have told don't you really think my theories are right as to the treasure being hidden?"
"I do, lad, I'll admit that," growled the captain.
"And that this fellow Schmitt-Schmitt is an emissary of the Hankers and theRaven, looking for a ship to go after the treasure?"
"Mebbe, lad, mebbe."
"Then what is the matter with hurrying up your repairs and getting back to the Windjammers' Island before Schmitt-Schmitt? Don't you see, captain, we are bound to locate theRavencrew, if they are there?"
Captain Broadbeam sank to a stool, bent his head, and groaned.
"Lad," he said, "I know what you want to do and what I'd like to do. It can't be done--no, no."
"Captain," interrupted Amos Fearless, in an eager, quivering tone, "we are old friends----"
"Belay there!" roared the veteran tar, springing to his feet and waving his ponderous arms like windmills. "Would ye tempt a man from his duty who has never yet over-stepped discipline? That duty is plain, Amos Fearless. This hereSwallowwas sent out to collect curiosities for the United States Government. Those curiosities are duly collected. Incidentally I helped you fellows all I could on the side. Now it's San Francisco. Them's my sailing orders. There's my duty."
"Ochone!" groaned Pat Stoodles, "and phwat of the foine treasure?"
"I'm out of this hornets' nest here the minute theSwallowis seaworthy," announced Broadbeam. "The minute I land at San Francisco and get my clearance, I'll hark back to the Windjammers with you if I have to put all my savings into chartering a ship specially."
"It will be too late then, captain," murmured Dave, in a dejected tone.
"Sorry," said the commander of theSwallow. "I am responsible to the owners. Why, friends, if I should step outside of my duty I am personally liable to a fine that would make me a ruined man and a pauper."
Dave gave a queer start at this, a quick color came into his cheek, a quick flicker into his eyes. He gazed at Stoodles in an eager, speculative way.
"One moment, captain, please," he said, arising and beckoning Stoodles to follow him from the cabin, "I have just thought of something important. I hope you will not decide finally on this matter until I have had a word in private with Mr. Stoodles."
"Surely not, lad," nodded the captain, but in some wonder regarding this peculiar move on the part of the young fellow he had grown to like greatly.
Silence fell over the little coterie in the cabin then. They could hear the low hum of voices outside; Dave talking rapidly and earnestly, and such violent ejaculations from Stoodles now and then as "Begorra!" "Luk at that now!" "Bedad!" and the like.
When Dave came back into the cabin he was calm and collected, but Stoodles squirmed about with a wise, important look on his moonlike face.
"Captain Broadbeam," said Dave, "I have just consulted with Mr. Stoodles on a matter covering his ability to raise a certain sum of money."
The captain of theSwallowgrinned. It was so ridiculous to think of Stoodles ever earning or saving a penny that he could not well help it.
"Yes," announced Pat gravely, "by my royal authority as king of the Windjammers' Island."
"Nonsense," muttered Captain Broadbeam.
"You will take my word for it, captain, won't you?" insinuated Dave, in his smooth, convincing way. "I can say to you positively that if you will land Mr. Stoodles among his former subjects for a single hour, and later safely at San Francisco, he will be prepared to pay you five thousand dollars to meet any fines the owners of theSwallowmay assess you for going back there."
"Why, Dave," began Mr. Fearless in wonderment--but Bob Vilett interrupted.
"If Dave says five thousand dollars, he means five thousand dollars."
"Remarkable!" commented Doctor Barrell, surveying Dave in astonishment through his eyeglasses close-set.
Captain Broadbeam was impressed. He studied Dave and Stoodles speculatively.
"How can you possibly get that sum of money?" he demanded.
"We can," declared Dave positively, "can't we, Mr. Stoodles?"
"Begorra! and ten if we nade it!" cried Pat enthusiastically. "Oh, the broth of a boy! It takes my friend Dave Fearless for brains."
"Of course it is a secret," said Dave.
"A deadly saycret--I mane a close one," declared Stoodles. "I never knew how rich I was till the lad told me just now."
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Captain Broadbeam, dismissing the matter with a worried motion of his hand. "Money can't count in this case. My duty is plain! I was ordered to sail for the home port as soon as the government collection was made. Doctor Barrell reported a month ago that he had finished that collection."
"H'm, just so," observed Doctor Barrell, "but, my dear sir--ha, a thought. A moment, Captain Broadbeam, just a moment."
"Thunder!" whistled Bob Vilett amazedly in his chum's ear. "What does that mean now?"
Dave shook his head in silent wonderment. Doctor Barrell had winked at them in a quizzical, encouraging way that was mightily suggestive.
To have the high-class old scientist so far forget his dignity was a most remarkable thing.
They heard Doctor Barrell stumbling about in the aft cabin where he had stored some of the curiosities he had gathered for the government.
Suddenly there was a loud bump followed by a great clash. The next minute the doctor burst into the captain's cabin holding aloft two cracked and broken specimens of starfish.
"Captain," he cried--"bad accident! The collection is incomplete. See, Captain Broadbeam, the only specimens of theMercuria stellaticuswe had, destroyed, case tipped over."
The commander of theSwallowbestowed a searching look on the speaker, but was silent. "They are to be found only at the Windjammers' Island," went on Doctor Barrell. "Oh, dear, dear! This will, I fear, necessitate a return to the island."
"Oh, will it?" snorted the captain sarcastically. "So, you're in the plot, too, to lure me from my duty, hey, you old conspirator? Well, you mutinous old humbug, after breaking your mercurian stellians purposely, you'll not get me to go a single knot back on the west course till you sign a paper officially ordering me to do so as a necessity of the expedition."
"Pen and ink--quick," chuckled Doctor Barrell. "Captain," he added pathetically, indicating their sturdy, loyal companions with a kindly affectionate wave of his hand, "their hearts are set on that stolen treasure, rightly too. They are our true, good friends. Honestly, won't you be glad to help them try and find it?"
"Shiver my timbers, but you're a set of conspiring mutineers!" roared the captain doughtily, but the fierce words were spoken with a secret chuckle.
CHAPTER VI
THE PILOT'S PLOT
"Hurrah!" shouted Bob Vilett, tossing his cap up in the air.
"Don't crow too quickly, Bob," warned Dave Fearless. "We're not out of the woods yet."
"And don't you croak," retorted the sprightly young engineer of theSwallow. "Captain Broadbeam says that by this time to-morrow we will be on our way to the Windjammers' Island."
"Yes," nodded Dave significantly, "provided they let us start."
"Eh, who?" demanded Bob.
"The governor here and the pilot, Schmitt-Schmitt, the whole crowd, who I am persuaded are in league to delay us."
"Oh, nonsense," cried Bob airily. "What right have they to interfere with our business?"
"What right had they to wreck theSwallow?" inquired Dave pertinently. "I don't say they will dare to try to make us any further trouble, but they have planned to, that I know, and every one of us must keep our eyes wide open until we leave Minotaur Island far to the rear."
For all Dave's misgivings, however, he was a happy, hopeful boy. It had been settled that they should return to the Windjammers' Island to secure duplicates of theMercuria stellaticuswhich Doctor Barrell had disposed of by accident.
"The royal old trump!" Bob Vilett had enthused. "Good-by to that treasure if the doctor hadn't acted so promptly. But I say, Dave, what was that bluff you and Stoodles worked up about five thousand dollars?"
"No bluff at all, as you call it," declared Dave seriously. "A hint from that artist Adair gave me a fine suggestion. Stoodles can easily make five, ten, yes, maybe twenty thousand dollars if he has a chance to once more, even for a single hour, regain his position as king of the Windjammers."
"If I didn't know you so well, Dave Fearless," said Bob gravely, "I'd say you was romancing."
"Wait till you see the reality, Bob," advised Dave, with a confident smile. "By the way, about this same secret of Stoodles'--I must make some purchases in the town to-day."
Just after noon, in pursuance with this suggestion, Dave was rowed to the town by the boatswain and two others of the crew of theSwallow.
When he returned he carried two heavy boxes, storing them safely under lock and key in the purser's own closet.
The inquisitive Bob tried to pump Stoodles, but it was of no avail. Pat looked crafty and wise, and only muttered some remarks about his royal prerogative and the like.
By sundown theSwallowhad been completely repaired. She was righted and cleaned up, and everything put in order for a run to Mercury Island. Captain Broadbeam decided to provision up there. He was uneasy every minute he dallied among the tricky inhabitants of Minotaur Island.
They were short-handed as to a crew, on account of the desertions of the day previous. Several natives had applied for work, but the captain was distrustful of them as spies.
The second mate had several times gone to the main harbor port in search of English sailors, but there chanced to be none unemployed just then. He did manage, however, to pick up one recruit. This was a sickly-looking white man who called himself Tompkins. He was quiet and industrious, and wanted to go as far as Mercury Island, he said to the captain, who entered him regularly on the crew's list.
There had been a great ado that afternoon over maps, charts, and other details pertaining to a long cruise. Captain Broadbeam had engaged Dave in conversation several times about his discoveries and theories.
Both the captain and Amos Fearless now believed that Dave had reasoned out matters concerning the stolen treasure just as they existed in fact.
They could not hope to gain any specific information from Schmitt-Schmitt, even if they learned where he was now keeping himself in seclusion.
"No," Captain Broadbeam had concluded, "we won't stir up affairs any further hereabouts. We will let the people here believe that we are going home to the United States. Schmitt-Schmitt never dreams that we know of his living here. His suspicions will be allayed. We shall leave a clear field and probably get to the Windjammers' Island before he even finds a ship to go in search of the treasure."
The camp on shore was now broken up and its temporary equipment moved back to theSwallow. The work on the steamer was all in shipshape order by supper time. The men had labored diligently, and the captain ordered an extra-fine meal.
It was an hour of typical comfort. A brisk breeze had cooled the air, the sky was bright and clear, the surroundings picturesque and beautiful.
Some of the sailors were singing a jaunty rollicking sea ditty. Dave and Bob paced the after-deck full of their plans for the prospective voyage to begin on the morrow.
"This is certainly life as she is on the ocean wave," declared Bob enthusiastically.
"I love the smell of the brine, Bob," said Dave. "I was born breathing it, and now the seafaring life seems to be a regular business proposition with me."
"Good business, if you recover all that money," observed Bob.
"Look there, Bob," spoke Dave suddenly.
His companion turned. Facing the coast end of the creek a gruesome-looking craft with black funnels, and odd and awkward of shape, was hovering about the mouth of the little inlet.
"Hello," exclaimed Bob, "that's the government ironclad. What's she doing here?"
"Yes," nodded Dave, taking up a telescope and looking through it, "that's theChili, the governor's special warship, sure. They say she's a poor apology of a craft. Bought her second-hand from some English shipyard. They are putting off a yawl."
"Going to visit us?" inquired Bob.
"It looks that way."
"More trouble?" insinuated Bob.
"More meddling and spying, more like," said Dave.
Both boys watched a natty, well-manned yawl come spinning up the creek towards theSwallow.
The Chilian colors adorned the bow, indicating an official visit. A man in military dress directed the boat. Beside him sat another of the governor's aides in semi-official uniform.
Dave called Captain Broadbeam, and all hands on board theSwallowwere now interested in the approaching yawl.
"Colonel José Silverado, from his excellency the governor," announced the officer in charge of the yawl as he neared the side of the steamer.
"Coming aboard?" asked Broadbeam, in his blunt, gruff way.
"On duty, yes," responded the officer, very politely, but with a covert grin. "The governor's physician--Dr. Monterey," added the officer, indicating his companion.
Captain Broadbeam bowed brusquely, and with surly and suspicious mien awaited the further pleasure of the governor's envoy.
The officer glanced keenly all about the ship. Then he took a card from his pocket and scanned it.
"Sorry to trouble you, captain," he said, "but we have reason to believe that you have a refugee aboard your ship."
"A refugee?" repeated Broadbeam, with a start. "Who is he?"
"Man named Tompkins."
"Why, yes," admitted the captain, "we have a new man here by that name."
"Will you kindly summon him? We have business with him. That is the man, doctor?" inquired the officer, as the sickly-looking fellow employed by theSwallowthat morning slipped out from among the crew at a call from Captain Broadbeam.
"Ah, yes," nodded the governor's physician, eying Tompkins critically. "My man, you are making us a whole heap of trouble, it seems."
Tompkins looked confused and ill at ease, gazing surlily at the deck.
"What's the matter with him?" demanded the captain.
"Suspect," announced the officer quickly. "Came in on a fruit boat a few days ago. Boat infected, and this man and the others put in quarantine. He got away. Look him over, doctor."
Monterey stepped up to Tompkins. He examined his pulse and his tongue and tapped him on the chest. Then he said tersely:
"Strip."
Tompkins pulled off his shirt. As his naked back came into view several of the crew curiously regarding the scene uttered quick, startled exclamations.
Across the chest, shoulders, and arms of the suspect, the refugee, were half-a-hundred purple-black blotches.
"Spotted fever," said the governor's physician, stepping back as if his task was done and over with.
"Tut! tut! Too bad," observed Silverado. "Captain, I regret to say that this is a quarantine case."
"Eh? Oh, just so," responded Broadbeam. "Well, take him to the pesthouse, then."
The officer shook his head slowly.
"Gone too far for that," he said. "He has probably infected the others. Let no man leave the ship," he called out loudly to some of the crew who were moving away in the haste of fright. "I declare this ship in a state of quarantine," pursued Silverado, in a tone of command, producing a document bearing an official red seal. "We will send you a yellow flag, captain, and you will remain here subject to official orders."
"Quarantined?" cried the captain, bristling up. "And for spotted fever? See here, colonel, we have a skilled physician on board. We will move out to sea at once and take our own risk on this matter."
"Impossible," dissented Silverado, smiling sweetly, but with the latent malice of triumph in his undertone. "Law of the nations--no right to imperil the general safety. No, within two weeks we will give you clearance if no new cases break out. Meantime----"
The officer coolly affixed the sealed document in his hand to the mainmast.
Captain Broadbeam wriggled, fumed, groaned. He was too thorough a seaman to mistake his predicament. His brow grew dark and threatening.
"Bob, quick, come here."
With a violent jerk Dave Fearless pulled his startled chum to one side.
"Quick as you can," he spoke rapidly, "rush to the purser. Tell him to instantly send me up a rag that has been well saturated in turpentine."
"Why, Dave----"
"No questions, no delay," ordered Dave peremptorily.
Bob shot away on his mission, Dave set his teeth, breathing hard. In a flash a sinister suspicion had arisen in his mind. Like lightning memory flew back to the overheard interview on the porch of the native pilot between that crafty individual and the tricky Schmitt-Schmitt.
"He said he could delay theSwallow, he hinted at spots, some paint, at washing them off," mused Dave. "Good for you. Hold on."
Dave snatched the rag soaked with turpentine from Bob Vilett's hands. He ran forward now to where his friends were depressedly watching Tompkins arranging his shirt to replace it.
Dave made a dash at the man. He held him firmly by one shoulder. With his free hand he slapped the rag briskly over his bare flesh to and fro.
Dave's eyes sparkled immediately with the intensest satisfaction. One by one the dark spots on the back of Tompkins began to disappear.
"Captain Broadbeam," cried Dave, pulling the squirming Tompkins around into full view, "a paint-trick. This man has got no more spotted fever than I have myself."