We must now revert to the afternoon on which the redoubtable Captain Broome sailed from the harbor of San Francisco. It will be recalled that his was the first of the three vessels to leave the harbor. The captain was sitting in the cabin of the Sea Eagle in consultation with the Mexican dwarf whom, concealed in a hamper, he had smuggled on board. It was their purpose to have the boys think that the dwarf had been drowned at the time he had slipped from the professor’s grasp and plunged into the waters of the bay.
The captain was sitting in a revolving chair in front of the desk, whose top was strewn with papers and charts over which he had been pouring. His thoughts apparently had not been particularly pleasing, for there was a scowl upon his hard face which looked harder than ever, and there was an ugly glitter in his eye which boded evil for whoever crossed his path. Nevertheless,the dwarf, who was seated, or rather perched, upon the top of a worn and battered sea chest at the opposite side of the room, regarded him with indifference. If there was anything upon the face of the earth or of its waters of which the Mexican was afraid or which had the power to make him blench, he had never met it.
For a moment or two the captain glared at the dwarf, who returned his look indifferently.
“A nice mess you’ve made of this business,” growled the captain.
“It wasn’t my fault,” returned the dwarf surlily.
“Then I suppose it was mine,” snapped the captain.
The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.
“You wouldn’t let me put a knife in him,” he snarled venomously. “The sharks would have had him now.”
“Bah!” sneered the captain. “Can’t you think of anything better than that? Besides, there are four of them. That’s too clumsy, anyway. And,” he went on after a moment’s pause, “I don’t believe you could have done it. Jim Darlington is too smart for you.”
If it was the captain’s intention to arouse allthe malignity and vindictiveness of the hunchback’s nature to the utmost, he certainly succeeded. The dwarf’s eyes blazed with fire, his form trembled with rage and his voice when he spoke resembled more the hiss of an angry snake than the utterance of a human being.
“Leave him to me now,” he hissed. “I will make an end of this Senor James and his whole tribe.”
There was a devilish malignity in the way he spoke that stirred even the captain, callous as he was.
“All right,” replied the captain, “if that’s the way you feel about them, I guess you’ll take care of the matter all right.”
Getting upon his feet with an inarticulate growl, the captain lurched across the cabin and up the companion way to the deck, where a quick glance around assured him that there was no one within eavesdropping distance. Returning to the cabin he dropped heavily into the chair again.
“So the professor is back again?”
The dwarf made a surly gesture of assent.
“Why didn’t you get the chart?”
“How could I? I paid the porter five dollarsto let me handle the bag for a minute, but there was nothing in it.”
“Why didn’t you take the bag?”
“What was the good? There was nothing in it, and beside there was no chance.”
“Where did he pick up those Darlington boys?”
“Who knows? He came with them on the train—all except Jim.”
“What has this Jim been doing?” went on the captain.
“Nothing. He is crazy. Since I saw you, I followed him here, there, everywhere.”
“Did he know you were following him?”
“He? No. He is the imbecile.”
“Do you think he knows where we are going?”
“No.” The dwarf laughed contemptuously. “He knows nothing. They are all of them to hunt for the treasure. He thinks no more of the girl.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” returned the captain. “I think he is on our trail, but we will give him the slip yet. And we will be rid of her, the day after to-morrow.”
“What are you going to do with her?” asked the dwarf.
“Put her ashore at San Matteo. If we don’t get rid of her pretty soon he will be bringing the whole pack down on us.”
“Him!” muttered the dwarf, “leave Jim to me. But he thinks more of the gold.”
“Why didn’t you at least get the papers from him?”
“Carambo!” hissed the dwarf. “Why didn’t I? I had the bag and those clumsy gringoes were chasing one another in the dark, when the professor, maledictions upon him, came in my way. Who would have looked for him there?”
“And he picked you up and spanked you like a bad little boy,” said Broome, maliciously.
“Curses on him!” howled the dwarf. “But I—I, Manuel de Gorgiza,” he struck himself on the chest, “will have my revenge on them all. But I fooled them. I swam under the water, and while they waited for me to come up I am under the dock, and I laugh at them all for the fools that they are. They think that I am down at the bottom of the bay, but I will have them yet.”
“It is time we were getting under way,” said the captain, rising. “You will have to postpone your revenge until we come back.”
Going on deck, the captain gave orders to start and in a short time the Sea Eagle was on her course out through the Golden Gate.
“I wonder if they will follow us,” mused the captain.
It need only to be recalled that the Sea Eagle on leaving the harbor headed north, and when the captain was satisfied that he was not followed the ship’s course was altered.
“The little Mexican was right. Them boys are looking for the gold,” the captain decided, rubbing his gorilla-like hands together with satisfaction.
The next day, however, when the Sea Eagle had entered San Matteo Bay and Captain Broome discovered the Storm King, he almost exploded with wrath. But the dwarf, who had been standing on the afterdeck, and with a spy-glass watching the other boat, had seen the boys go on shore. His crafty mind had even then conceived a plan of revenge worthy of the arch fiend himself.
Having devised his scheme, the dwarf went at once to Captain Broome, who was on the forward deck directing the stowing away of the stuffthat was being transferred from the lugger to the Sea Eagle.
The captain listened attentively as the Mexican unfolded his plan. When the dwarf had concluded, Broome removed his hat and bowed graciously. His only comment was: “I take off my hat to you.”
The Senor had passed an anxious day. He had at first thought of going on board the Sea Eagle and demand surrender of his daughter. But he feared, after the revelation made by Jim, that he would be but placing in Broome’s hands opportunity for further evil.
At four o’clock, therefore, he summoned the innkeeper, who brought from the corral two horses. One the Senor mounted, and leading the other, he started for the arranged place of meeting. Jim and his party were at that moment in hiding, as had been arranged.
The task of loading the Sea Eagle had evidently been completed, and the ship itself, under the influence of the tide which was then running out, was moving very slowly toward the ocean end of the harbor.
With a begrimed and patched sail flapping listlessly, the lugger could be seen riding motionless at anchor.
There was a brief interval of suspense, then there was observed, moving toward the shore from under the lea of the lugger, a small boat. In it were three persons, all well known to Jim. The Senorita sat in the stern, and so was facing them. At the oars was a big fellow with a bristling red moustache, close-cropped hair, and evil looking black eyes. An equally big, red haired woman, Big Annie, the captain’s sister, was in the bow. This woman, as Jim knew from sad experience, was as powerful as a man.
When the boat grounded, Big Annie sprang lightly ashore, and walked rapidly toward the appointed tree under which stood the Senor, holding the bridles of his two horses.
The watching party hidden from observation were not close enough to the Senor to hear what was said by either he or Big Annie when they met. They saw the former take from his saddle bag a heavy package which he gave the woman.
“There is the money!” cried Jim, excitedly.
“Shall we stop them?” asked Juarez.
“No,” answered Jim, “but I fear that he is making a mistake. He was not to give up the money till his daughter was on shore.”
“But you are not going to let them get awaywith the money, are you?” asked Berwick disgustedly.
“It seems we must,” returned Jim. “At least we must for the present. But I mean to get that later.”
“Huh!” muttered Tom. “There is no time like now.”
“All we can do now,” protested Jim, “is to see that the Senorita is safe. She is still in these villains’ hands, and if we show ourselves, it will be an excuse for them to try to get away with her. That’s what I fear, anyway.”
“See!” called Jo, “the Senor is walking with the woman toward the boat.”
“And he promised me to stay at the tree.”
Jim was wild with anxiety, yet dare not make known his presence. But the opportunity to act was close at hand.
Reaching the shore, the Senor and his daughter were exchanging salutations, while the woman Annie sprang lightly into the boat, and it was then swung about, seemingly to allow the girl to land. The man rose from his seat as if to lend aid. Big Annie took the oars, and immediately, with quickly repeated strokes impelled by her powerful arms, the boat shot away.At the same instant the man grasped the Senorita, holding her before him so as to protect himself from harm should the Senor be armed. This all happened far more quickly than it can be described.
Now, all too late, the party in hiding sprang forward.
“Help! Help!” called the Senorita. “Save me, Senor James!” She had at once recognized him among the party.
It was a desperate situation. The boys were too far away to be of aid. It was impossible to shoot at the man without risking the life of the girl. Twice Jim raised his rifle and let it drop, while the Senorita’s call for help rang in his ears.
The Irishman continued to hold the Senorita as a shield, and the woman, knowing the boys would not shoot her, fiercely swung the oars of the boat, which was headed toward the lugger.
In a few moments Jim and his party were at the shore, where the Senor in desperation raged now that it was all too late, bemoaning his over-confidence and its result.
“What shall we do?” cried Tom.
“Get back to the Storm King as quick as wecan,” cried Jim, in a frenzy. “We will run the yacht down and get her if we have to follow them to the end of the world. Come on!”
The boys, headed by Jim, started off on the run, when they were halted by a shout from Juarez.
“Here’s a boat!” he cried.
Half hidden in the bushes which fringed the shore was the little dinghy of the lugger.
To seize the boat and rush it down to the water was but the work of a moment.
“But we haven’t any oars!” cried Tom.
“Here is one. Yes, a pair!” exclaimed Jo, who had been rummaging in the bushes.
“Let me go with you,” pleaded the Senor.
“I am sorry,” replied Jim, “but the boat will only hold three, and some will have to stay on shore. There is serious work ahead of us. We don’t know how many there may be on board the lugger.”
“Then let me be of the party, I implore you! I am an expert marksman, and can hit the eye of the bull at a hundred yards.”
“Good!” cried Jim. “Juarez, you are the best long distance runner amongst us. Will you give the Senor your rifle and run as fast as you canback to the ship and tell the professor to come to our aid with the Storm King?”
Without a word, Juarez handed his rifle to the Senor and was off with a speed that carried him over the ground almost as fast as a horse could gallop.
Leaving Jo and Tom on shore to menace the escaping party with their rifles if there was opportunity, and with Berwick at the oars, the dinghy was headed for the lugger.
Barely had they covered a third the distance when they were surprised to hear a call from the Senorita, and looking in the direction of the sound they discovered her standing alone on board the lugger.
Her captors had disappeared, as they were soon to learn. Having first run under the lea of the lugger, they had aided the Senorita to climb on board, and they themselves keeping the while out of sight of Jim’s party, had rapidly rowed the boat around a point of land and were nowhere to be seen.
That they were to board the Sea Eagle, which was still to be observed dropping down the harbor was doubtless their intent, but why had they surrendered the Senorita? Why taken all thetrouble and risk to recapture and put her on board the lugger? It was an enigma for which they were later to find a solution.
Jim and his party lost no time in boarding the lugger. The meeting of father and daughter was affecting, and Jim was covered with confusion by the profuse thanks of the young lady. He beat a hasty retreat to the dinghy, where he was held in conversation for a few minutes by the Senor, then going ashore, he picked up Tom and Jo. He also carried a message to the Senor’s man. His presence in the tree had not proved of service through no fault of his own. He was now ordered to take the horses back to the inn.
On Jim’s return to the lugger he had a further conference with the Senor and told him that in a scouting trip during the afternoon he had run across a party of three, bandits he took them to be, and listening unobserved to their conversation, he had learned of their intention to capture someone.
“Do you know of a Captain Beauchamp?” Jim asked.
“No.”
“May it not be yourself and your daughter that they are after?” Jim asked in conclusion.
The Senor was visibly agitated. “For myself alone I have no fear,” he said, “but, alas, my daughter, and she has already suffered so much.”
“If I could go with you—”
“That’s it,” broke in the Senor, “if you and your brothers will accompany us, we all could be quite safe.”
Jim was complimented by this confidence, and was very loath to hesitate, but his obligations to the professor compelled. He must first refer the matter to him. Then an idea occurred to Jim, another course was suggested.
Would the Senor’s party go on board the Storm King, and when again at sea seek a transfer to some passing merchant ship bound for San Francisco?
The plan well appealed to the Senor, and now the best method of getting on board the Storm King was considered.
While they were talking, as the darkening atmosphere indicated, a storm was brewing, and appeared likely to break very shortly over the hills and bay. The trip by land would be tedious indeed, particularly for the Senorita. The dinghy would carry but three, and Jim thought, too, that every minute lost would prejudice hischances for the recovery of the Sea Eagle. One object of his trip had been accomplished, the rescue of the Senorita. Now his thoughts turned to the Sea Eagle which at that moment was doubtless upon the ocean and headed for Cuba. At least he knew its destination.
The thought occurred to Jim. Why not make use of the lugger on which they now were? Suggestion was promptly followed by action. Under Jim’s direction the anchor was quickly raised, the patchwork sail was trimmed and made secure. If the approaching storm held off a bit they could make the run to the Storm King in short order.
With the relaxation from the intense anxiety of the hours just passed through, the party was indeed a happy one. Even their Nemesis, the villainous Mexican, was forgotten. The Senor and Berwick—the latter was at the helm—found subjects to discuss of mutual interest.
The Senorita, meantime, told Jim of her experience on board the Sea Eagle, where she had been for some time a prisoner, and he related very modestly some of the efforts he had made to rescue her.
It was beyond the dinner hour, but that factwas forgotten. The Senorita, however, was thirsty.
“Was there possibly water on board to drink?”
Jim offered to investigate. He had seen through the hatchway in the dim region of the hold a cask or two. He climbed down a broken ladder to institute a search. The first cask when struck with his boot gave out a sound indicating that it was empty. But there was dimly seen another cask farther aft. Even near the open hatchway it was dark indeed, and the approaching storm made the gloom almost impenetrable.
The second cask was open, the head was out. This fact he determined by feeling about, and reaching down his hand encountered a dry, powdery ingredient. He noted now that there was a dividing partition just aft, on which his hand rested. The partition, he discovered, was hot with an unnatural heat, while the air about him was cool. What was the powdery stuff in the cask? He could not see, but a little held in his hand by sense of smell he recognized. And now a crackling sound beyond the partition wall reached his ear.
The whole picture of their awful position at once flashed upon his mind. The lugger was averitable trap. They had been beguiled aboard with but one horrible purpose in view. There were people Captain Broome wished to annihilate. The Senor was surely one, Jim and his party the others. The substance in the cask was powder. Doubtless there was more of the same stuff about. The boat was on fire.
With one bound Jim was back to the ladder, and was quickly on deck. The deep intonation of a crash of thunder reverberated through the air, drowning for the moment his voice. Jo saw his blanched face and knew that something unusual had happened.
There was no uncertainty in Jim’s commands.
“Quick! Instantly, Senor! Your daughter and Berwick into the dinghy! Ask no questions. We have not a moment to lose!”
Even as he spoke he was drawing the dinghy alongside, Jo springing to his aid.
“Tom, put into the boat the guns and the Senorita’s handbag! Now, quick, Berwick, man the oars! Row with all your might away from this boat!”
No one had uttered a sound. Jim’s white face showed there must be motive back of his command, and instant action followed. Quicklythose ordered to do so had taken their place in the boat.
“You are not going to stay and face the danger, whatever it is, alone?” questioned Berwick. The oars were even then bending to the first stroke of his powerful effort. Jim deigned no reply.
“Tom, Jo, into the water both of you, and swim with the boat!”
Such is the value of quick obedience to command. With no explanation and without a single question both sprang into the waters of the bay, followed by Jim himself.
“What’s it all about?” Jo finally gasped.
“Not yet. Not yet,” repeated Jim, but even as he spoke there came from the lugger the sound of a most terrible scream. Human voice could not give utterance to sound more horrible. All the party in the boat and the swimmers in the water turned toward the direction from which it came to note the cause.
At the cabin window in the stern of the abandoned vessel was a face distorted by agony. The person’s arms were flung wildly about. It was the Mexican dwarf. He it was who had planned the trap in which he now found himself caught.He had set fire to the lugger and was intending to make his escape in the dinghy. The scream had come when he realized that his one avenue of escape was cut off, that his plot had miscarried.
Even as the horrified observers noted the conditions there came an appalling, thunderous crash. Debris filled the air. The old lugger and the evil face at the window were gone—gone, forever.
The storm so long delayed broke now in all its fury. Jim’s party were safe, and thankful for their preservation, but in a rather dubious predicament, although it was really no more wet in the water than in the boat. Each of the boys rested a hand on the gunwhale of the little craft and discussed their next move. The problem was soon solved for them. Juarez, together with the steward from the ship, rowing the long boat was seen approaching.
On board the Storm King, the rescued party when they arrived were made comfortable. Jim learned that the Sea Eagle had been quietly maneuvered down the harbor, and under close reefed sail had disappeared into the obscurity of the storm.
Jim’s disappointment was keen, but he felt that he had much to be thankful for, and was notthe Senorita, herself, a member of the party for a time at least?
“Besides,” said the professor, offering consolation, “mayhap you will make enough from the recovered treasure to buy half a dozen Sea Eagles.” But there was another possibility which the professor did not foresee.
The storm lasted well into the night, but the Storm King was riding meanwhile safely at anchor. The following morning saw them once more upon the ocean every sail set and southbound.
There were unvarying, placid seas and happy hours during the next two days. One item was occasionally commented upon. There could be seen at a distance, which seemed never to change, a steam yacht. But doubtless this was only a coincidence.
To Jim especially, and perhaps to the Senorita, the hours were brief indeed, and when on deck they were always in each other’s company.
All the party, with the professor as principal spokesman, were assembled after the evening meal, and details were given of experiences in hunting and other activities. The professor’s journeying had not been confined to the South Seas, and having mentioned the then scarcely known great country in the Canadian Rockies, he was asked to tell about his adventures there.
“It’s a far cry from here to Saskatchewan, but I recall,” said the professor, “a trip that I made agood many years ago, when I first went out to deal with the fur traders.
“At the time I speak of our brigade of four boats lay moored on the banks of the great Saskatchewan, which river, you know, takes its rise amid the rugged steps of the Rocky Mountains, flows through the great prairies and woodlands of the interior of Rupert’s Land, and discharges into Lake Winnipeg.
“On this morning the men were ashore at breakfast. On a low gravelly point that jutted out into the stream smoked three large fires, over which stood three rudely constructed tripods, from which depended three enormous tin kettles. Robbiboo was the delectable substance contained in these kettles. Pemmican is a compound of dried buffalo meat, melted fat, and hair—the latter being an accidental ingredient. Mix pemmican with flour and water, boil and stir till it thickens, and the result will be ‘robbiboo.’
“Around these kettles stood, and sat, and reclined, and smoked, about thirty of the wildest and heartiest fellows that ever trod the wilderness. Most of them were French Canadians; many were half-breeds; some were Orkney-men; and one or two were the copper-colored natives of the soil.But Canadians, Scotch, and savages they were all employed by the Hudson’s Bay Fur Company; they were all burned to the same degree of brownness by the summer sun; they all laughed and talked, and ate robbiboo more or less—generally more; and they were all clad in the dress of the northwestvoyageur. A loose-fitting capote, with a hood hanging down the back; a broad scarlet or parti-colored worsted sash round the waist; a pair of cloth leggings, sometimes blue, sometimes scarlet, occasionally ornamented with bright silk or bead work, and gartered at the knees a pair of chamois leather-like moccasins made of deer skin; a round bonnet or a red nightcap, or a nondescript hat, or nothing.
“‘Ho! ho!’ shouted the gruff voice of the guide, as the men, having emptied the kettles, were hastily filling and lighting their pipes—‘embark, my lads, embark.’
“In five minutes the boats were afloat, and the crews were about to shove off, when the cry was raised, ‘Mr. Berry! hold on—where’s Mr. Berry?’
“Poor Berry! I must tell you about him. He was one of those people that are always late, always missing, always in the wrong place at theright time, and in the right place at the wrong time. His companions—of whom there were two in charge of the boats along with himself—called him an ‘old wife,’ but qualified the title with the remark that he was a ‘good soul,’ nevertheless. And so he was—a beardless youth of twenty-two, with a strong tendency to scientific pursuits, but wofully incompetent to use his muscles aright. He was forever falling into the water, constantly cutting his fingers with his knife, and frequently breaking the trigger of his fowling-piece in his attempts to discharge it at half-cock. Yet he was incomparably superior to his more ‘knowing’ comrades in all the higher qualities of manhood.
“At the moment his name was called, he sprang from the bushes, laden with botanical specimens, and crying, ‘Stop! stop! I’m coming,’ he rushed down to the boat of which he had the special charge, and leaped in. Five minutes more, and the brigade was sweeping down the Saskatchewan, while the men bent hastily to their oars, and filled the shrubbery on the river’s bank and the wide prairies beyond with the ringing tones of one of their characteristic and beautiful canoe songs.
“The sun was flooding the horizon with gold as it sank to rest. The chorus of the boatmenhad ceased, and the only sound that broke the stillness of the quiet evening was the slow and regular stroke of the heavy oars, which the men plied unceasingly. On turning one of the bends of the river, which disclosed a somewhat extended vista ahead, several black objects were observed near the water’s edge.
“‘Hist!’ exclaimed the foremost guide, ‘they are buffaloes.’
“‘A terre, a terre!’ cried the men, in a hoarse whisper.
“A powerful sweep of the steering oar sent the boat into a little bay, where it was quickly joined by the others.
“‘Now, then, let the crack shots be off into the bush,’ cried the man in charge of the brigade. ‘Away with you, Gaspard, Antoine, Jacques. Mind you don’t waste powder and shoot only old bulls. Hallo! Mr. Berry, not so fast; let the hunters to the front.’
“‘Ah! Misser Berry him berry bad shot,’ remarked a middle-aged Indian, regarding the youth somewhat contemptuously. Berry armed for the chase with frantic haste, dashing about and tumbling over everything in search of his powder-horn and shot-pouch, which were alwaysmislaid, and moving the muzzle of his gun hither and thither in such a way as to place the lives of his men in constant and deadly peril. He started at last, with the speed of a hunted deer, and made a bold sweep into the woods in order to head the buffaloes. Here he squatted down behind a bush, to await their coming.
“A short time sufficed to bring the stealthy hunters within range. Three shots were fired, and two animals fell to the ground; while a third staggered with difficulty after its companions, as they bounded through the woods towards the prairies, headed by the patriarchal bull of the herd. This majestic animal had a magnificently shaggy mane and a pair of wild glittering eyes, that would have struck terror into the stoutest heart; but Berry was short-sighted; moreover, he had concealed himself behind a shrub, through which, as he afterwards remarked, he ‘could see nicely.’ No doubt of it; but the bush was such a scraggy and ill-conditioned shrub that the buffalo bull could see through it just as nicely, and charged, with a hideous bellow, at the unfortunate youth as it came up the hill.
“Berry prepared to receive him. For once he remembered to cock his piece; for once his aimwas true, and he hit the huge animal on the forehead at a distance of ten yards; but he might as well have fired against the side of a house; the thick skull, covered with its dense matting of coarse hair, was thoroughly ball-proof.
“The bull still came on. Just at this moment another shot was fired, and the animal hurled forward in a complete somersault; the bush was crushed to atoms, and Berry was knocked head-over-heels to the ground, where he lay extended at full length beside his slaughtered foe.
“‘Ah! pauvre enfant,’ cried Antoine, running up and lifting Berry’s head from the ground. ‘Is you hurt ver’ moch? Dat bull him break de ribs I ’fraid.’
“Antoine’s fears were groundless. In half an hour the youth was as well as ever, though somewhat shaken by the fall. The choice morsels of the dead buffalo were cut off by the men with an adroit celerity that was quite marvelous, and in a very short time the boats were again rapidly descending the stream.
“The bivouac that night resounded with more vigorous mirth than usual. The camp fires blazed with unwonted power and brilliancy. The cook’s office—no sinecure at any time—became a postof absolute slavery; for there was a glorious feast held beneath the spreading trees of the forest, and the bill of fare was ‘buffalo-steaks and marrow-bones.’ But if the feast was noisy, the hours that succeeded it were steeped in profound silence. Each man, having smoked his pipe, selected for his couch the softest spot of ground he could find, and, wrapping himself in his blanket, laid him down to rest. The deep breathing of untroubled slumber was the only sound that floated from the land and mingled with the rippling of the river; and not a hand or foot was moved until, at day-break, the loud halloo of the guide aroused the sleepers to their daily toil.
“A week or two passed, and we had left the lands of the buffalo far behind us, and were sailing over the broad bosom of Lake Winnipeg. It was calm and polished as a sheet of glass when we entered it, but it did not remain long thus. A breeze arose, the sails were hoisted, and away we went out into the wide ocean of fresh water. Lake Winnipeg is a veritable ocean. Its waves rival those of the salt sea in magnitude, and they break upon a shore composed in many places of sand and pebbles. If we sail straight out upon it, the shore behind us sinks in the horizon; butno opposite shore rises to view, and the unbroken circle of sky and water is presented to our gaze, as it appears on the great ocean itself.
“The wind rose almost to a gale as we careered over the billows, but the men had to keep up incessant bailing. It was almost too much for us; but no one murmured, for, had the wind been ahead, we might have been obliged to put ashore and remain there inactive for many days. As it was, we made a rapid run across the lake and entered the river, or rather the system of lakes and rivers, which convey its waters to the ocean. Hudson’s Bay was our goal. To this point we were conveying our furs for shipment to England.
“Many days passed, and we were still pushing onward towards the sea-coast; but not so rapidly now. The character of the navigation had changed very considerably, and our progress was much slower. Now we were sweeping over a small lake, anon dashing down the course of a turbulent stream, and at other times dragging boats and cargoes over the land.
“One afternoon we came to a part of the river which presented a very terrible appearance. As far as the eye could reach, the entire stream was a boiling turmoil of rocks and rapids, down whicha boat could have gone with as much safety as it could have leaped over the Falls of Niagara. Our advance was most effectually stopped, as far as appearance went. But nothing checks the onward progress of a northwestvoyageurexcept the want of food.
“The boats were run successively into a small bay, the men leaped out, the bales of furs were tossed upon the banks of the river, and the boats hauled up. Then every man produced a long leathern strap, with which he fastened a bale weighing upwards of 90 lbs. to his back; above this he placed a bale of similar weight, and trotted off into the woods as lightly as if he had only been laden with two pillows. The second bale is placed above the first by a sleight-of-hand movement which is difficult to acquire. Poor Berry well nigh broke his back several times in attempting this feat, and eventually gave it up in despair.
“In an hour the packs were carried over the ‘portage,’ and deposited beside the still water at the foot of the rapids. Then the men returned for the boats. One was taken in hand at a time. The united crews seized the heavy craft with their strong hands, and shoved against it with their lusty shoulders; a merry song was struck up, andthus the boat was dragged through the forest for nearly a mile. The others quickly followed, and before evening all was carried over, and we were again rowing down stream.
“Not long after this we came to a rapid, in the midst of which was a slight waterfall. The water was deep here, and the rocks not numerous, and it was the custom to run the boats down the rapids and over the fall, in order to save the labor of a portage. Three of the boats ran down in grand style, and reached the foot in safety. Berry and I were in the last boat. The steersman stood up in the stern with his hands resting on the long heavy sweep, while his gaze was directed anxiously towards the boiling flood into which we were just entering. The bowman, an immensely powerful man, stood up in front, with a long strong pole grasped in both hands, ready to fend off from the sunken rocks. The men sat in their places, with their oars ready for action.
“‘Now, boys, look out,’ cried the guide, as we plunged into the first billow of the rapids. The boat flew like an arrow straight towards a rock, which was crested with white as the water burst against its ragged front. To all appearances our doom was sealed. The bowman regarded it witha complacent smile, and stood quite motionless, merely casting a glance backward. The steersman acknowledged the glance with a nod; one long stroke of the great oar—the boat turned sharply aside, and swept past in safety. There was no danger in such a big blustering rock as that!
“‘Prenez garde!’ cried the bowman, in a warning tone, pointing to a spot where lay a sunken rock. The steersman’s quick hand turned the boat aside; but the bowman had to lend his aid, and the strong pole bent like a willow as he forced the boat’s head away from the hidden danger. And now the fall appeared. It was not high, perhaps four feet, but there was a mighty gush of water there, and it was a bold leap for a heavy boat.
“‘Prenez garde,—hurrah!—lads, give way!—well done!’ The boat plunged almost bows under, but she rose again like a duck on the foaming water. The worst of it was past now; but there was still a ticklish bit below—a bend in the river, where the sunken rocks were numerous, and the surface of the water so white with foam, that it was difficult to detect the channel.
“The bowman’s duty now became more arduous.With knitted brows and compressed lips he stood, every nerve and muscle strung for instant action. The steersman watched his movements with intense earnestness, in order to second them promptly. Ever and anon the stout pole was plunged into the flood, first on one side, then on the other; the two guides acted as if they had been one man, and the obedient craft sprang from surge to surge in safety. Suddenly the bowman uttered a loud shout, as the pole jammed between two rocks, and was wrenched from his grasp.
“‘Another! another vite! vite!’
“One of the crew thrust a fresh pole into his hand. Plunging it into the water, he exerted his giant strength with such violence as nearly to upset the boat, but it was too late. The planks crashed like an egg-shell as the boat dashed upon the rock, and the water began to rush in, while the stern was swept round, and the blade of the steering oar was smashed to atoms. Almost before we had time to think we were swept down, stern foremost, and floated safely into an eddy at the foot of the rapids. A few strokes of the oars brought us to the land; but, short although the interval was between our striking the rockand running ashore, it was sufficient to half-fill the boat with water.
“The danger was barely past, and the intense feeling of it was still strong upon my mind, yet these lightheartedvoyageurswere jesting and laughing loudly as they tossed the packs of furs out of the water-logged boat; so little did they realize the imminence of the peril from which they had been delivered.
“The remainder of that day was spent in drying the furs that had been wetted, and in repairing the damaged boat. Afterwards we continued our voyage, which, without further accident, terminated at length on the shores of Hudson’s Bay.”
The morning of the third day was an epoch in the lives of the passengers on board the Storm King, for a passing vessel was signaled. It hove to, and the captain quite willingly accepted as passengers to his next port of call, San Francisco, the Senor and his daughter.
It is needless to say that Jim gazed long and intently after the Lotus which bore away the Senorita and her father, and equally long and intently, although Jim did not know it, did the young lady watch the Storm King until it had become but a speck on the horizon.
For several hours Jim was seen no more on deck, and many a merry quip was bandied at his expense. What Jim was doing will appear later.
“It is certainly out of the ordinary,” admitted Becket. He had just come aft to where the professor was consulting with Jo and Tom. They had been discussing the action of the Marjorie,the ship which had taken its departure from San Francisco on the same day and very hour that they had sailed, and which had again been sighted when they left San Matteo. She was trailing about a mile astern of them, and here it was the third day since they had sailed.
“She has been following us right along,” observed Tom. “Do you think she is going the same way we are?”
“A man might be justified in thinking so,” replied Berwick, dryly.
“I mean,” corrected Tom, “to the island?”
“I don’t know what to think,” admitted the professor, “but I don’t like it somehow.”
“It is queer,” reiterated the engineer.
“Let us run away from him,” suggested Jim, who now joined them.
“I have tried to outsail him, but it’s no use,” returned the captain. “She is burning up the coal, yet only traveling as fast as we do under sail.”
“Suppose we try again and see if she is really following us.”
“Let us radically change our course, captain, and see if they follow us,” said the professor.
“That isn’t a bad idea,” agreed the captain.“It won’t do any harm to try it. We will have her head put due west. I see that we are running about S. S. W. now. If they change their course it will be pretty conclusive evidence that it is purpose and not chance that keeps them in our wake.”
“Mr. Berwick,” said the professor, “the wind is light and fitful, suppose we add steam to our propelling force. Give us all the speed you can, and we will see if we can’t shake them off.”
“All right, sir,” replied the engineer, going toward the engine room. “I will do my very best to get all the speed there is in her.”
An hour later the throbbing of the engine, as the pressure was gradually increased, was felt throughout the vessel. Like a spirited steed with a bit in her teeth, and at the snap of the whip the vessel darted forward, plunging through the long rolling waves, and leaving behind her a white wake that curved like a bow as her prow was turned to the west.
The group on the after deck of the Storm King watched with interest the course of the other vessel, which was now being rapidly distanced, would pursue.
“Hurrah!” cried Tom. “We are leaving her behind.”
“But she is getting up more steam,” observed Jo, as a thickening volume of smoke poured from her funnel.
“She is following us, too,” cried Tom a little later. “She evidently likes company.”
It was evident from the change in her course that the Marjorie was bent on keeping near the Storm King.
“She is just like some people,” went on Tom. “She doesn’t wait for an invitation, she is coming along, too.”
The Storm King, under a full head of steam was rolling off the knots, and increasing the distance from the Marjorie.
“If we can keep this up,” said Tom, joyfully, “she will soon be hull down.”
“If we had a nigger to put on the safety valve,” said the professor.
“A nigger on the safety valve,” questioned Tom, “I don’t understand.”
“Why they say that on the Mississippi river when they have a race on, they put a negro on the safety valve to keep it down when the pressuregets so high as to blow it off at the regular set weight.”
“But that must be dangerous,” objected Tom.
“Of course, it is,” laughed the professor, “but nobody cared for danger where there was a race on.”
But in the meantime the Marjorie was once more picking up the distance and growing more distinct. For three or more hours the race went on, but the Marjorie regained and then maintained her relative distance, and the professor reluctantly directed the captain to slow down.
“It is no use,” he said. “We cannot shake her off that way. We might as well resume our regular course.”
The following morning the same conditions were found to prevail. The distance between the boats seemingly never changed.
“She is a good boat and jolly well sailed, don’t you know,” remarked the mate, who was a typical English sailor.
“What is that flag for?” asked Tom suddenly.
“What flag is that?” asked the captain in return.
“Why, that one there,” replied Tom, pointingto a square of red bunting flying from a davit of their own ship.
“That,” laughed the captain. “Well, you ought to know better than I do.”
“Why?” asked Tom.
“Really,” said the captain, “didn’t some of you boys put it there?”
“Why, of course not,” disclaimed Tom. “I thought maybe it was some kind of a signal.”
“Well, I’ll be blowed,” exploded the captain, “if I didn’t think you did it for a lark.”
“There is one like it on the Marjorie,” said Jim, who was using the binocular.
“Well, what do you think of that!” burst out the captain.
“What does it mean?” asked Tom.
“It means that someone on board is exchanging signals with the Marjorie,” replied the professor.
“I wish I could catch them at it,” muttered the captain, grimly.
“Let us take turns in watching,” suggested Jim.
“I am going to do a little watching on my own account,” growled the captain, making a dash for the supposed signal.
“Don’t pull it down,” advised the professor, “perhaps we can see who puts them up.”
“I think you are right.”
“They are doing some kind of signaling on the Marjorie now,” went on Jim. “I can see some one waving a flag.”
“There isn’t anyone here who could see it,” said the captain, looking over the deck. “Let me have a look,” taking the glass. “There is some kind of signaling going on, but who can it be to?” Jo walked quietly to the stern of the boat, and leaning over the rail looked down. The stern windows of the cabin afforded a view of the pursuing vessel, and where the signals could be observed, but he could not see if anyone was there.
Something did attract his attention, however, though it only impressed itself on his mind as an odd chance. A keg was floating in the wake of the Storm King, but most unusual things are sometimes seen on the surface of the ocean, hundreds of miles from land.
“Perhaps there is someone in the cabin,” he suggested, as he came back to where the captain was standing.
“By jove!” gasped the captain, making a dashfor the companion way, “I believe you have it.”
At this moment the steward came on deck.
“See here!” roared the captain, “What is the meaning of this?”
The steward smiled complacently, and said, “Why, sir, I know nothing about the flag. I have finished my tasks in the pantry, and came on deck for a breath of air.”
The captain, debating the matter in his mind, concluded he would say no more at that time, and turned his attention again to the others. The steward went about his duties.
“They have quit signaling,” reported Tom.
“What do you make of that other ship’s continued interest in us, captain?” asked the professor.
“I’m blessed if I know,” he replied. “It’s too deep for me. They have been following us ever since we left the bay, and I’m blessed if I don’t think they are after us. But I cannot imagine for what purpose.”
“I suspect,” said the professor, “that they have some knowledge of the fact that we are after a treasure.”
“Oh,” said the captain, “but they can’t expectto keep us under observation for a long trip like this. It would be ridiculous.”
“What they want most likely is the chart. Only with its aid can anyone locate the island or the treasure.”
The captain sat for a few moments in thought. “There must have been somebody on board getting the signals. Now who could it be?”
“One of the crew,” suggested Tom.
“Quite likely,” agreed the captain, “unless—”
“What?” said the professor.
“It was the steward.”
“No,” said the professor. “You can leave him out. He has been with me for years.”
“All the more reason,” returned the captain. “He’ll jolly well stand watching. What we have got to do is to watch out, and perhaps we can trap them.”
“I think—” he added. With a sudden thought he got up and went to the companion way, returning slowly to his seat. “I may have a clue.”
“What is it?” cried Tom.
“It is only an idea, don’t you know, and I won’t say anything until I work it out. You say the chart is aboard?”
“Yes.”
The captain whistled softly for a minute. “Better put it away somewhere.”
“That has already been done,” admitted the professor, looking at the boys. “It is hidden away, and I don’t think anyone can find it.”
“Even if they could find it, how could they get away with it?” inquired Tom.
“That’s easily done,” explained the captain, “when they find it.”
“When!” interrupted Tom.
“Maybe only a matter of days,” returned the captain. “They will signal to the other ship, put it in a keg, drop it over and the others will pick it up.”
“A keg,” queried Jo. “I saw a keg floating in the wake of our ship just a little while ago.”
“Indeed! Then you had better investigate your hiding place and see if your chart is secure.”
Jo acted immediately upon the suggestion, and went below. Closing the door of his room, he pressed the spring that should open the adjoining panel. It did not respond readily to the pressure of his hand. Evidently it had been tampered with. With feverish haste he tried again and again, and finally his efforts were rewarded with success. The door flew open. The box was raised, but the chart was not within.
Jo had so long been detained that the others had meantime descended to the cabin.
“The chart is gone,” cried Jo.
Unobserved by all but Jim, the steward had entered the cabin from the aft companionway. There were exclamations of astonishment, but the steward gave not the slightest heed, going about his duties without apparent interest.
The captain now noticed his presence, and questioned him closely, but with no result. Meantime, Jim took the professor aside, and together they went to the deck above, and then climbed quite away up into the ship’s rigging.
When they were absolutely alone, Jim said, “Whom do you suspect, professor?”
“I can think of only one person,” was the answer. “Beside you boys and myself, only four people have access to the cabin. I do not suspect the captain or the steward. Berwick you have confidence in. May it not be the mate?”
“I know who it was that took the chart,” said Jim, “and I called you up here where no one could possibly overhear, to tell you.”
“Then it is not lost beyond recovery?”
“On the contrary, it is safe, and you and I will be the only ones knowing where it is.”
“I am all anxiety.”
“It is here in my pocket.”
“You certainly surprise me. What prompted this move on your part?”
“I felt that someone was after the chart, and I thought of a way to mislead them.”
“Go on. I am all interest.”
“I made a copy of your chart and substitutedit for the original, then I put the copy in the hiding place.”
“And the copy was stolen?” the professor inquired ruefully. “What about that? Won’t it disclose our secret?”
“The copy, if you may call it such, that I made,” laughed Jim, “had the descriptions and instructions altered so that it will be misleading rather than helpful.”
“Good!” said the professor. “You are an assistant after my own heart. Our chances of searching undisturbed are greatly improved.”
“If we keep this secret to ourselves,” continued Jim, “the others will be constantly on the lookout, and we may yet run down the one guilty of the theft.”
“Yes, even if they only get a fictitious chart, we would like to know who it is and for what purpose it was taken.”
Their conference over they returned now to the deck.
The day passed without event worthy of record, and it was growing dark when the captain again joined the others.
“Going to have a blow,” he said, looking to the west where a mass of dark clouds were pilingup. “The barometer is falling. It is just the time to try a little experiment.”
“What is that?” asked Tom.
“I am going to try and give our friends the slip,” replied the captain. “There are no other ships in sight,” sweeping the horizon with his glass.
“How are you going to do it?” asked Tom.
“Wait and see,” replied the captain.
In the west it was growing darker. The storm brewing clouds, as they piled up blotted out the stars. There was scarcely a breath of air. The sea rose and fell in long, slow undulations. Away in the distance the roar of the storm was audible.
“Double reef the sails,” the captain commanded at the same time changing the course so as to steer directly toward the approaching storm.
The party at the captain’s suggestion had donned their oilskins and were now crouched in the shelter of the cabin top watching with fascinated interest the coming of the storm.
“Better get a good strong hold,” advised Tom, “It’s going to blow great guns.”
Higher and higher rose the clouds until all of the west was of inky blackness through which there ran, now and again, a streak of light thatwas blinding in its intensity. The storm broke now with a flash as if the whole firmament was aflame, and with a roar that drowned the thunder a solid wall of blackness enveloped them, blotting out everything except the ship’s lights, and there came down apparently a deluge of water.
“Put out the lights,” commanded the captain, in the first lull of the storm. The vessel was still rolling and pitching, and the wind was howling through the shrouds.
In total darkness, now, the ship plunged forward through the angry waves that crashed against her bow with a force that shook her from stem to stern, while the wind played weird tunes overhead.
“We will keep her on the course she is running a half hour,” determined the captain. By that time the storm had about blown out, and when the command was turned over to the mate the ship’s regular course was resumed.
“I think,” began the captain, the next morning when the boys came on deck, “that we have seen the last of the Marjorie.”
“I hope so,” replied the professor, who was scanning the horizon with a glass. “It is almosttoo good to be true, but they do not seem to be in sight.”
It was a beautifully clear day after the storm. The wind had blown all the clouds away, and the sky was a deep transparent blue. The air was crisp, and for the latitude, cool, and the sea rose and fell in long broken swells through which the yacht was racing at the rate of a dozen knots. They were alone on the vast expanse of water; no other vessel was in sight, although way to the southwest a faint trail-like smoke showed on the horizon against the deep blue of the sky.
“Is that the Marjorie off there, do you think?” asked Tom.
“Cannot say, I’m sure,” replied the captain. “But we will just hold to our course and see if she raises. I doubt if they see us, and the Marjorie will have a hunt to pick us up again.”
“I can’t see anything of them,” said the captain, an hour later, sweeping the horizon with his glass. “We can lay over course direct for the island of Bohoola.”
Relieved of the shadow of impending trouble which the persistent trailing of the yacht by the mysterious vessel had cast over them, the spirits of all rose perceptibly and as nothing was seen ofher for the next two or three days some began to think that it was only a coincident of their sailing upon the same course, and that their fears had been unfounded.
Several days of steady progress under full spread of sail carried the voyager on beyond the equator. No incident worthy of note transpired. There was, of course, a constantly augmented desire for the sight of land and for the varieties and delicacies of food denied them. Hard tack and salt fish become very monotonous if too long persisted in.
Hopes of an early termination of the journey were beginning to run high when, as the captain determined that they had arrived at a point estimated to be less than three days from their destination. The other boys were now told the story of the chart then in Jim’s possession, and one day together with the professor, a careful study of the descriptions and instructions were gone over. They were careful to see that no one was near either cabin door, but they did not observe that both the mate and the steward, who were much in each other’s company, were seated on the cabin roof.
The instructions contained in the chart weremeagre in the extreme. The location of the island was fairly well given, but after that much seemed to be left to chance. The main and essential feature which all impressed on their memory was “an opening to a cave high up and difficult of access.” A blue stone marked in some way the entrance.
The next morning the sun rose hot almost beyond endurance to greet an atmosphere of perfect calm. Not a ripple stirred the surface of the great southern sea. The Storm King, master in a turmoil, was conquered and helpless when denied a breeze, and lay with drooping canvas, motionless.
So passed that day and the next with discomfort to the voyagers and without progress.
“There is only one thing to do,” determined the professor. “Mr. Berwick, will you start up the engine, and we will end our trip under steam?”
Everything being in readiness, the fires were lit and the generation of steam gotten under way. At a signal the engine’s mechanism responded to the movement of a lever. Almost immediately there was a crash that shook the ship from stem to stern. It was at once apparent to all on board that something serious had happened. Everyonewas at the moment on deck, except those engaged in the engine room, and to that spot all ran to investigate.
Berwick was found with a wounded hand, resulting from his efforts to stop the machinery. Juarez had accomplished this, but to the gaze of all there was offered a badly wrecked mechanism. Berwick was livid with rage and more concerned by the mishap to the engine than by the pain in his injured hand.
Someone, it was found, had tampered with the machinery. Who was the culprit?
“How serious is the injury?” inquired the professor.
Berwick shook his head and looked at his injured member, about which Jim was skilfully applying a bandage.
“I fear it will be several days,” was the gloomy response. “But we will get right at it.”
Even Berwick, however, was disappointed with the progress he could make toward repairing the distorted machinery, although he had the helpful aid of all the boys. There were exasperating delays. Essential parts of the machinery were not to be found and substitutes had to be made.
The unvarying calm and sultry heat persisted.