The flood of radiance from the electric light shone from Cora's room, into that where Belle was, and with the gleam of the modern illumination, Cora's bravery grew apace.
"What did you say, Belle?" she asked, now quite wide awake. "Are you ill?"
"No, but, oh! I'm so frightened. There's some one in my room! I'm sure of it!"
"Nonsense!"
"I tell you I can hear some one walking around!" insisted Belle.
"Did you get up and look?" asked Cora.
"Did I get up? Indeed I did not!" was the indignant answer. "I'm scared stiff as it is."
"And you want me to look?" murmured Cora.
"Oh, but you have your light lit, Cora dear. And really I am afraid to get up. Do come and see what it is. Perhaps it's only one of those large fruit bats that Inez told us about."
"A bat! Indeed I'll not come in and have it get tangled in my hair!" objected Cora. "I'm going to call some one of the hotel help."
But there was no need, for Jack, whose room was across the corridor from that of his sister, heard the talking, and, getting into a dressing gown and slippers, he knocked at Cora's door.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Belle thinks she hears something in her room."
"It's in mine, now," called out Bess, whose apartment was beyond that of her sister.
"Open the door, and I'll have a look," suggested Jack, good-naturedly.
"Wait a minute," Cora said, and, slipping into a robe, she admitted her brother.
"Now we'll see what's going on," he promised.
"Cover up your heads, girls," he called to Bess and Belle, as he and Cora went into the room of the latter. "If it's a villain, you won't get nervous when you see me squelch him."
"Oh!" faintly murmured Belle, as she pulled the covers over her head.Jack groped for the electric switch and found it, making lightBelle's room.
"I don't see a thing," he announced, looking carefully about.
"It is in here!" said Bess, faintly. "I can hear it walking about.It's rattling some papers in a corner of my room."
Jack and Cora went on through to the farther apartment, and Jack, turning on the light there, approached a pile of paper Bess had tossed in one corner after unwrapping some purchases made during the day.
"Look out!" warned Cora, while Bess adopted the same protective measures as had her sister. "It may be a rat—or—or something!"
"Most likely—something," said Jack. He began picking up piece after piece of paper, and then he suddenly uttered an exclamation.
"Ah! Would you!" he snapped, and, standing on one foot, he took the slipper from the other, holding his bare member carefully off the floor, while he slapped viciously at the pile of papers with his bedroom weapon.
"Got him!" he announced triumphantly, after two or three blows.
"What was it—a bat?" asked Bess, in muffled tones.
"A centipede," answered Jack. "A big one, too. About seven inches long."
"And their bite is—death!" murmured Bess, in awe-stricken tones.
"Nothing of the sort, though it's very painful" said Jack, shortly. "Just as well to keep clear of them, however. I'll throw this defunct specimen out of the window."
"Please do, and be sure my screen is down," begged Bess. "I wonder how he got in?"
"Oh, there are more or less of them in all hotels, I guess," saidJack, cheerfully enough.
"Don't you dare say so!" cried Belle. "Please look around my room, and leave the light burning. I know I'll never sleep a wink."
Jack tossed out the centipede he had killed, and then looked among the waste paper for more, standing with his bare foot raised, and with ready slipper, for the bite of this insect, which grows to a large size in Porto Rico, is anything but pleasant, though it is said never to cause death, except perhaps in the case of some person whose blood is very much impoverished.
Both Bess and Belle insisted on their lights being left aglow, though Jack made a careful search and could discover no more of the unpleasant visitors. How Belle had heard the one in her room, if it really had been that which she said made the noise, was a mystery, but the creature might have rattled paper as it did in the room of Bess.
"Call me if you want anything more, Sis," said Jack to his sister, as he started back to his own apartment. And then, as he was about to close, Cora's door Jack looked fixedly at a place on the floor near her bureau, and with a muttered exclamation hurried toward it.
"Oh! what is it?" his sister begged, alarmed at the look on his face.
"Another one—trying to hide," he murmured.
Off came his slipper again and there followed a resounding whack on the floor.
"Got that one, too!" Jack announced, and then, as Coral made brave by the declaration of the death, came closer, she uttered a cry.
"Jack Kimball!" she gasped, accusingly, "you've broken my best barrette," and she picked up from the floor the shattered fragments of a dark celluloid hair comb, which had fallen from the bureau.
"Barrette," murmured Jack, in dazed tones.
"Yes—a sort of side comb, only it goes in the back."
"Well, it looked just like a centipede trying to hide under the bureau," Jack defended himself. "Is it much damaged?"
"Damaged? It's utterly ruined," sighed Cora. "Never mind, Jack, you meant all right," and she smiled at her brother.
"Oh, dear! I don't believe I'm going to like it here, even if the waters are such a heavenly blue."
"What was it—another?" demanded Belle.
"It was my barrette, my dear," laughed Cora.
"Come, young folks! You must quiet down," came the voice of Cora's mother from the next room. "What's all the excitement about?"
"Just—insects," said Jack, with a chuckle. "We are hunting the deadly barretted side comb!"
"You'll have to get me another," said Cora, as she bade Jack good-night.
There was no further disturbance, and the hotel clerk said, next morning, that the presence of one or two scorpions, or centipedes, could be accounted for from the fact that the rooms occupied by our friends had not recently been used. He promised to see to it that all undesirable visitors were hunted out during the day.
For a week or more, life in San Juan was an experience of delight for the motor girls. They visited points of interest in and about the city, taking Inez with them. Of course Jack and Walter also went, and the change was doing the former a world of good.
The mysterious "fat man," as Jack insisted on calling Senor Ramo, had not come ashore at San Juan, going on with the steamer. His destination was another of the many West Indian islands.
As yet, Mr. Robinson had had no chance to communicate with, or make arrangements for rescuing the father of Inez. But he was making careful plans to do this, and now, being on the ground, he could confirm some information difficult to get at in New York.
The motor girls, and their party, soon accustomed themselves to the changed conditions. They learned to eat as the Porto Ricans do—little meat making eggs take the place, and they never knew before what a variety of ways eggs could e served.
The weather was growing more pleasant each day, and with the gradual passing of the hurricane season, they were allowed to take longer trips in one of the many motor boats with which the harbor abounded.
Sometimes they spent whole days on the water, their dusky captain keeping a sharp watch out for hurricanes. These can be detected some hours off, and a run made for safety. Some of the whirling storms are very dangerous, and others merely squalls.
It was when they had been in San Juan about a month, and Mr. Robinson had promised, in the next few days, to take some measures regarding the liberation of Senor Ralcanto, that something occurred which changed the whole aspect of the visit of the motor girls to waters blue.
Mr. Robinson found that he would have to go on business to a coffee plantation near Basse Terre, on the French island of Guadeloupe, and as he had heard there were also rare orchids to be obtained them, he wanted to stay a few days after his trade matters had been attended to.
"But I did want to start for Sea Horse Island, and begin my plan to liberate your father," he said to Inez.
"It can wait, Senor,"' she said, softly. "A few days more will not make much of ze difference, as long as he is to be rescued anyhow. I would not have you disappointed in ze orchids."
"Then I'll go when we come back," said Mr. Robinson. "I'll go to Guadeloupe, and take my wife and Mrs. Kimball with me. I want them to see the place."
"And leave us here alone?" asked Bess.
"Certainly, why not? You are in good hands at the hotel, especially as the boys are with you. And Inez is as good as a guide and European courier made into one."
The weather, which had been fine on the evening when Mr. Robinson and the two ladies went aboard the steamer, underwent a sudden change before morning, and when Cora and her chums awoke in the hotel, and looked out, they found raging a storm that, in its fury, was little short of a hurricane.
"Oh, Jack!" his sister exclaimed, as she listened to the roar of the wind and the sharp swish of the rain, "I'm so afraid!"
"What about? This hotel is a good one."
"I know. But mamma on that ship—they're out at sea now, and—"
She did not finish.
"That's so," spoke Jack, and a troubled look came over his face.
How the wind howled, and how the rain beat down! Outside the window of Cora's room, the gutters were flush, and running over with seething water. In the street below there was a river, along which bedraggled pedestrians forded their way, envying the patient donkeys drawing the market venders' carts.
At times the wind rose to a fury that rattled the casements, and fairly shook the solid structure of the hotel. Then Cora, who, with Jack, had come up from the breakfast room, clung to her brother, and a look of fear came into her eyes. Nor were Jack's altogether calm.
"What a storm!" murmured the girl.
The door, leading into the next room, opened, and Bess came out.
"Oh, Cora!" she gasped, putting the last touches to her hair, which she had arranged in a new Spanish way she had seen, and then, tiring of it, had gone to her room to put it back in its accustomed form. "Isn't this just awful!"
"Terrible, I say!" came from Belle, who now entered from her apartment.
"It certainly does rain," agreed Jack. "Five minutes ago there wasn't a drop in the street, and now you could float your motor boat there, if you had it, Cora."
"And we may wish we had it, before we're through," chimed in the voice of Walter. They had made of Cora's room, which was the largest of the suite, a sort of gathering place.
"Why so, Wally?" demanded Jack.
"It looks as though we'd be flooded," was his answer.
"Oh, these storms are common down here" put in Bess. "I spoke toInez about it, and she said the natives here were used to them."
"Such storms as this?" asked Cora, as a fiercer dash of rain, and a sudden blast of wind, seemed about to tear away the windows and let the fury of the elements into the room.
"Well, I suppose that's what she meant," said Bess. "But it is awful, isn't it? And mamma and papa, and your mother, Cora, out on that steamer."
"Oh, they'll be all right," declared Jack. "It's a big steamer, and the captain and crew must be used to the weather down here. They'll know what to do. Probably they ran for harbor when they saw the storm coining. They say skippers in the West Indies can tell when a storm's due hours ahead."
But that brought little comfort to the girls, and even Walter looked worried as the day wore on and the fury of the storm did not abate. Inez, as one who had lived in the region, was appealed to rather often to say whether this was not the worst she had ever seen.
"Oh, I have seen zem much worse," was her ready answer, "but zey did terrible damage. Terrible!"
And, on talking with some of the old residents of San Juan, and with the hotel people, Jack and Walter learned that the storm was a most unusual one.
It was of the nature of a hurricane, but it did not have the sudden sharpness and shortness of attack of those devastating storms. The real hurricane season, due to a change of climatic conditions, was supposed to have passed, and this storm was entirely unlooked for, and unexpected.
It did not blow steadily, as hurricanes did, but in fits and gusts, more disconcerting than a steady blow of more power. The rain, also, came in showers. Now there would not be a drop filling, and again there would be a deluge, blinding in its intensity.
For want of a better name the storm was called a hurricane, though many of the real characteristics were lacking. And, as the dreary day wore on, the motor girls, and the boys, too, felt themselves coming under the spell of fear—not so much for themselves, as for their loved ones aboard the Ramona, which was the name of the steamer on, which Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and Mrs. Kimball had sailed.
"Oh, if anything has happened to them!" sighed Cora.
"Can't we get some news?" asked Bess, faintly.
"Surely there are telegraph lines and cables," spoke Belle.
"There are," the hotel clerk informed them, "but there are so many small islands hereabouts, into the harbor of any one of which the ship may have put, that it would be impossible to say where it was. And not all the islands have means of communication. So I beg of you not to worry, Senoritas. Surely they are safe."
Yet even the clerk, sophisticated as he was, did not believe all he himself said. For the storm, as the girls learned afterward, was almost unprecedented in the West Indies.
There was nothing they could do save to wait until it was over—until it had blown itself out, and then to wait, perhaps longer and with an ever increasing anxiety, for some news of those who had sailed.
"Oh, if Senor Robinson should be lost!" half sobbed Inez, on the third day of the storm, when it showed no signs of abating. "If he should be lost, my father would be doomed forever to zat prison."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jack, for it was in talking to Jack and Walter that the Spanish girl gave utterance to these sentiments. "Don't go saying such things around Cora and Bess and Belle, or you'll give them the fidgets. There's no sign the steamer is lost just because it has run into a storm."
"I know, Senor Jack,"—for so she called him, "but zere is so much danger. And my father—he is languishing in prison."
"Yes, but we'll have him out. Mr. Robinson didn't take those papers with him; did he—those papers that contain the evidence?"
"No, I have them—he has only ze copies."
"Well, then you needn't worry. When this storm blows over, we'll all get busy on this rescue business!" and Jack spoke with a return of his old energy. He was becoming more like himself every day now, and even the stress and danger of the storm had no hampering effects on him.
"Oh, you Americans!" exclaimed Inez, with a pretty pathetic gesture. "You speak of such queer English—to rescue is no business—it demands intrigue—secrecy."
"Well, we'll make it our business," said Walter, grimly, "But, Inez, don't scare the other girls. We have troubles enough without that, you know, with Mr. Robinson away. Just make a bluff at feeling all right."
"A bluff, Senor—a bluff—a high hill—I am to make a high hill of feeling good?" and she looked puzzled.
"Translate, Jack," begged Walter, hopelessly, and Jack, nothing loath, took Inez off into a corner of the hotel parlor to explain.
But with all their assumed right-heartedness, the boys were finally genuinely alarmed. Indefinite reports came to the hotel of much danger and damage to shipping, and several large steamers were said to have gone on the reefs which abounded in that region of islands. No direct news came of the Ramona. In fact, she had not been sighted, or spoken to, since leaving San Juan.
"Oh, if anything has happened to her!" sighed Cora.
"There's just as much chance that nothing has happened, as that there has," declared Jack. "She might have gone into any one of a dozen harbors."
"I suppose so, but, somehow, I can't help worrying, Jack."
"I know, little girl," he said, sympathetically.
"But I oughtn't to trouble you," Cora went on.
"Are you really feeling any better, Jack?"
"Heaps; yes. Water and I are going out to have a look at the water to-day. We're tired of being cooped up here."
"Oh, I wish I could go!"
"Why not? Come along. It will do you girls good."
So it was arranged. The girls, including Inez, donned rubber coats, and, well wrapped up for it was chilling with the advent of rain, they set forth from the hotel.
They made a struggling way to the sea wall, and there looked out over a foaming waste of waters. In one place where a sunken reef of coral came close to the surface the waves beat and tore at it as though to wrench it up, and cast it ashore. There the sea boiled and seethed in fury.
"A ship wouldn't last long' out there," said Walter, quietly.
"I should say not," agreed Jack.
On the beach the waves pounded with sullen fury, making a roar that drowned the voices of the motor girls. Cora and her chums clung to one another as they leaned their bodies against the blast, and peered through the mist.
"Isn't it awful," said Cora, with a shudder.
"Yes—for—for those who have to be out in it," spoke Bess, and, though she mentioned no names, they all knew what she meant.
Cora, with an impatient, nervous gesture, laid aside the piece of lace upon which she was engaged. The long, breathing sigh which followed her rising from the chair, was audible across the room.
"What's the matter?" asked Bess, who, seated near a window, where the light was best, was industriously engaged in mending a hole in one of her silk stockings. She held it off at arm's length, on her spread-out hand, as if to judge whether the repair would show when the article was worn.
"I just can't do another stitch!" Cora said. "It makes me so—nervous."
"It's beautiful lace—a lovely pattern," spoke Belle, as she picked it up from the table. "I don't see how Inez carries them all in her head," for Cora was working out a model set for her by the Spanish girl.
"Nor I," said did Bess, "It's perfectly wonderful."
She glanced at Cora, who had gone to stand by another window to watch for signs of clearing weather, that, of late, had come with more certain promise.
"There! I think that will do!" announced Bess, as she cut off the silk thread. "I wonder if we shall ever get to the point where we can go without stockings, as the Spanish ladies do here."
"Do they?" asked Cora, absently. "I hadn't noticed."
"They do indeed, my dear," answered her chum. "I read about it, but I didn't believe it until Inez took us to call on Senora Malachita the other day—Belle and I—you didn't come, you know."
"I remember."
"Well, my dear, positively she didn't have any stockings on—only slippers, and she received us that way. Belle and I had all we could do not to laugh, and I wondered if she could be so poor that she couldn't afford them, though her, house, was beautiful, and the plaza, with its fountain and flowers, a perfect dream.
"But Inez told me that often even the well-to-do Spanish ladies here don't wear stockings, unless they go to church or to a dance. Even then they don't put them on, sometimes, until just before they go into the church. We saw one, riding in on a donkey. She stopped just outside the church, and put on her stockings as calmly as though they were gloves."
"Fancy!" cried Cora.
"Then you aren't going to follow that fashion?" asked Belle.
"No, indeed!" exclaimed the plump Bess, as she carefully inspected the other stocking for a possible worn place. She did not find it, and sighed in content.
"Aren't you going to finish that lace, Cora?" asked Belle.
"Not now, at any rate. I just can't sit here and—wait! I want to be doing something."
"But there's nothing to do, dear," objected Belle. "We can't do anything but wait for news of them. And no news is always good news, you know."
"Just because it has to be!" retorted Cora.
"But, girls, positively, I believe the weather is clearing! Yes, there's a blue patch of sky. Oh, if this storm should be over!"
Her two chums came and stood by her at the casement. Off to the west the dark and sullen sky did seem to be clearing. The rain had ceased some time ago, but the wind was still blowing half a gale, and the boys, who had come back from the docks a short while before, reported that the sea was still very high, and that no ships had ventured to leave the harbor. Then Jack and Walter went out again, saying they were going to the marina, the water plaza.
"Oh, but it is going to clear!" cried Cora, in delight, an hour or so later. "Now we shall hear some news of them!"
"Won't it be lovely!" exclaimed Bess. "Oh, I have been so worried!"
"So have I," admitted her sister. "But of course they are safe!"
"Of course," echoed Cora, and yet there was a vague fear within her—a fear that, somehow or other, in spite of her effort for self-control, communicated itself to her voice.
"Let's go out,"' suggested Belle. "I'm tired of being cooped up here."
"Where are the boys?" asked Cora. "Really we oughtn't to go out so much without them. We'll become talked about!"
"Never!" laughed Bess. "We are Americans, and everything is possible to us."
The others laughed. Before coming to Porto Rico, they had read books about the island, in which stress was laid on Spanish customs, especially about ladies going about without a male member of their family, or some one to serve as a duenna. But our friends were too sensible to be hampered by that custom, save at night.
"The boys are probably off enjoying themselves," said Cora. "Jack is so much better. It has done him a world of good down here. We may meet them. Come on, let's go out. Oh, there's the sun!"
It was shining for the first time since the storm began, and the girls hastened to take advantage of it.
"Where's Inez?" asked Belle.
"Lying down, she had a little headache," explained Bess. "We won't disturb her, and we won't be gone long."
There was a great outpouring of the inhabitants, all anxious to take advantage of the clearing of the storm, and the streets were soon crowded. The girls went down to the sea wall, at a point where Jack and Walter had made a habit of taking observations from time to time, and there they found the chums.
"Welcome to our city!" laughed Walter, as he greeted the girls. "Won't you come and have something cool to drink? It's going to be insufferably hot!"
And so it promised after the storm, for the sun, coming out with almost tropical warmth, after all the moisture, was fairly sizzling now.
"It sounds nice," spoke Cora. "Oh, Jack, do you think we can get any news of the steamer soon?"
"I think so, Sis. Let's go round by the Morro, and see what the semaphore says."
At the ancient Spanish fort flags were displayed to signal the expected arrival of steamers.
The little party found a refreshment booth and enjoyed the iced and flavored cocoanut milk, which made a most delightful beverage. Then, going on to the fort, they saw, fluttering in the breeze that had succeeded the hurricane, the flags that told of the approach of a steamer.
"I—I hope it brings news," said Cora, softly.
"Good news," supplemented Belie.
"Of course," added her sister.
They strolled back to the marina, the business quarter of the town, fronting directly on the water. There, in the activities of the owners of several motor launches, was read the further news of the approach of the first steamer since the storm. The lighters were getting ready to go out to bring ashore the passengers and freight.
As it would probably be some time before the ship came to anchor out in the harbor, the boys and girls went back to the hotel, for it was approaching the dinner hour.
In spite of their anxiety to receive any possible news of the Ramona, which the incoming steamer might bring, the girls went to their rooms for a siesta after the meal—a habit that had really been forced on them, not only by the customs, but by the climate of the place. It was actually too warm to go about in the middle of the day, and especially now, since the sun had come out exceedingly hot after the storm. Jack and Walter, however, declared that they were going down to the marina to get the earliest possible news.
As it chanced, the girls remaining at the hotel were the first to hear that which made so great a difference to them.
Cora, Bess and Belle, with Inez, whose head had stopped aching, came down about four o'clock, dressed for a stroll. There was to be a band concert in one of the public park—the first in several days.
As they went up to the desk to leave their keys, they saw standing talking to the clerk a very stout man, at the sight of whom Inez drew back behind Cora.
"It is him—him again," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Zat man—Senor Ramo—I do not like zat he should see me."
"Oh, you mustn't be so timid," declared Jack's sister. "He won't harm you."
"No, but my father—"
"I think you are mistaken, Inez!" went on Cora. "At any rate, he has seen us—he remembers us as from having come out on the same steamer with us," for Senor Ramo was now bowing, and is smile spread itself over his oily and expansive countenance.
"Ah, Senorita Kembull!" he mispronounced. "I am charmed to see you again. Also the Senoritas Sparrow—er—I am so forget—I know it is some kind of one of your charming birds—ah!—Robinson—a thousand pardons! I am charmed!" and he bowed low to the twins.
Then his eyes sought the face of Inez, but he showed no recognition, though the significant pause indicated that he expected also to address her. Clearly, if he had seen her on the steamer coming from New York, he did not remember her. There was a questioning look in his eyes.
Inez pinched Cora's arm, and murmured something in her ear. Cora understood at once. Inez did not wish to meet this man, for reasons of her own. He might, or might not, be of the political party opposed to her father, and he might, or might not, have had a hand in placing Senor Ralcanto in prison. Of this Cora could only guess, but there was no mistaking the fear of Inez.
Cora thought of the easiest way out of it. This was to allow Inez to assume the character she had been given—that of a maid.
"Inez, I think I left my fan in my room—will you please get it for me?" requested Cora, at the same time giving the Spanish girl a meaning look.
"Yes, Senorita," was the low-voiced answer, as Inez glided from the foyer.
Senor Ramo seemed to understand. He turned, once more, with a smile to Cora.
"And when may I have the pleasure of paying my respects to your honored mother?" he asked, "and to Senora—er—Robinson, and your father?" he inquired of the twins. "I have but just arrived, after a most stormy passage, from Barbados. Truly I thought we were lost, but we managed to weather the hurricane."
"And we are hoping our folks did, too," said Cora. "We have heard nothing of them since they sailed on the Ramona, nearly a week ago. Did your steamer hear of that vessel, Senor Ramo?" she asked, eagerly.
"The Ramona did you say?" he inquired, and there was that in his manner which sent a cold chill of fear to the hearts of the motor girls.
"Yes," answered Cora, huskily. "Oh, has anything happened? Have you heard any news? Tell me! Oh!" and she clutched at her wildly beating heart.
"The Ramona—a thousand pardons that I am the bearer of ill-tidings—the Ramona was shipwrecked!" said Senor Ramo. "We picked up some of the sailors from it! Ah, deeply do I regret to have to tell you such news!"
"Cora, what's the matter? Has this man—?"
It was Jack who spoke, as he suddenly entered the rotunda of the hotel, with Walter, and saw his sister faintly recoiling from the shock of the news brought by Senor Ramo. Jack had a bit of fiery temper, and it had not lessened by his recent nervousness. Then, too, he seemed to have caught some of the Spanish impetuosity since coming to Porto Rico.
"Hush, Jack!" begged Belie. "It is bad news," and there was a trace of tears in her voice.
"Bad news?" chorused Jack and Walter together.
"Yes, Senor Kembull," again mispronounced the Spaniard, "I deeply regret to be the bearer of ill-tidings. I was just telling your sister, and her friends, that the Ramona has been wrecked."
"The Ramona—the steamer mother sailed on—wrecked?" cried Jack."How did it happen—where?"
"As to where, I know not, but it happened, I assume, in the recent hurricane. Indeed, we barely escaped ourselves. I am just in from the Boldero. We picked up some refugees near St. Kitts. I did not hear their story in detail, but they said the Ramona had foundered with all on board!"
"Oh!" gasped Belle, as she sank against Cora. The latter, meanwhile, had somewhat recovered from the shock. Again she was the quick-thinking, emergency-acting Cora Kimball.
"We must find out exactly what happened," she said. "Belle, pull yourself together. Don't you dare faint—everyone is looking at you!"
Perhaps this information, as much as the bottle of ammonia smelling salts, which Cora thrust beneath the nose of her chum, brought Belle to a realization of what part she must play.
"I—I'm all right now," she faltered. "But, oh! It is so awful—terrible.Oh—dear!"
"Hope for the best," said Walter kindly, leading her to the ladies' parlor, which was screened, by a grill, from the public foyer. "Often, now a days, in shipwreck, nearly all are saved, even if the vessel does founder."
"Of a surety—yes!" Senor Ramo hastened to put in. "I am a stupid to blurt out my news so, but I did not think! I ask a thousand and one pardons."
"It doesn't matter," said Jack. "We had to know sometime. The sooner the better. We must get busy."
"Always busy—you Americans!" murmured the Spaniard. "If I can be of any service, Senor Kembull—"
"You can take us, to where those sailors are that were picked up by your vessel, if you will," interrupted Jack. "I'd like to hear their story, and find out exactly where the Ramona went down. That is, if it is true that she completely foundered."
"Why, if I may ask?"
"Because, this is only the beginning. There may be a chance of saving some—our folks—if, by any possibility they reached some of the smaller islands. I must see those sailors."
"They will most likely remain aboard the Boldero—the vessel on which I arrived," spoke Senor Ramo. "They lost everything but the clothes they wore. Doubtless you could see them on the steamer."
"Then I'm going with you!" cried Cora. "I can't wait, Jack!" she pleaded, as he looked a refusal at her. "I must go!"
"Oh, poor mamma and papa!" half sobbed Bess, for they were now in the seclusion of the ladies' parlor. "Oh, what will become of us?"
"You mustn't give way like this!" objected Jack. "Now, if ever, is the time to be brave. There is lots to be done!"
Jack was coming into his own again. The trip had worked wonders, but just this touch and spice of danger was needed to bring out his old energetic qualities.
"What can be done?" asked Cora.
"I don't know, yet. I'm going to find out. Maybe it isn't so bad as it sounds after all," replied Jack.
"It sounds bad enough," sighed Cora. "But, Jack, I am with you in this. I simply won't be left out."
"And no one wants to leave you out, Sis. Walter, just see if we can get a carriage, or a motor, to the marina. We'll take a boat from there out to the Boldero."
"I will give you a letter to the captain," said Senor Ramo. "He knows me well, and he will show you every courtesy."
"Surely," thought Cora, "this man cannot be a political plotter, who would put innocent men in prison. Inez must be mistaken about him. He is very kind."
Some little excitement was caused by the advent of the bad news to our party of friends, and it quickly spread through the hotel. A number of the guests, whose acquaintance the motorgirls had made, offered their services, but there was little they could do. What was most needed was information concerning the wreck.
Inez, who had made the getting of Cora's fan an excuse to go to her room, to escape Senor Ramo, heard the sad tidings, and came down. By this time the "fat suspect," as Jack had nicknamed him, had gone, having scribbled a note of introduction to the captain of the Boldero.
"Oh, what is it, Senoritas?" gasped Inez. "Is it zat you are in sorrow?"
"Yes," said Cora, sadly. "Great sorrow, Inez. We have had very bad news," and there were tears in her eyes.
"I sorrow with you," said the impulsive Spanish girl, as she put her arm about Cora. "I was in sorrow myself, and you aided me. Now I must do ze same for you. Command me."
"There is little that can be done until we learn more," Cora made answer. "The steamer has been wrecked."
"With Senor Robinson, and with the Senoras Kimball and Robinson?" gasped Inez.
"So we hear."
"Ah, zat is indeed of great sorrow. I weep for you. My own little troubles are a nothing. My father may be in prison, but what of zat—he is living—and your mother—"
She did not finish. Walter came in to announce that he had secured a large auto that would take them to the marina, whence they could get a boat to go out to the steamer.
"I only hope those sailors haven't disappeared," murmured Jack. "Now then, are you girls ready?"
"Yes," answered Belle. She, as well as Cora and Bess, had somewhat recovered their composure, after the first sudden shock. Hope had sprung up again, though they were presently to learn on what a slender thread that hope hung. Jack had regained some of his former commanding manner in the emergency.
Inez went with her new friends to the docks. She seemed to have forgotten her own grief in ministering to the girls, and much of her former timid and shrinking manner had disappeared.
They found a large and powerful motor boat that would take them out to the ship, and, indeed, a staunch craft was needed, since there was still a heavy swell on, from the recent storm.
"Are there many boats like this in San Juan?" asked Jack of the man at the wheel, who spoke very good English.
"Not many. There's only one as good, and that's much larger. She's the Tartar—and she's a beauty!"
"For charter?"
"Well, maybe. The same man owns her as owns this one, but only large parties engage her."
"Fast and seaworthy?"
"None better."
"That's good," Jack said.
"What are you thinking of?" asked his sister.
"Tell you later," he announced briefly.
"Oh, if it wasn't for the terrible news, how lovely this trip would be!" exclaimed Bess.
They were gliding over the deep, blue waters of the bay, and the golden setting sun now shone aslant the harbor, pouring its beams over the tops of the distant mountains, and through the palm branches. A promise of fair weather followed on the wings of the storm.
Whatever Senor Ramo might, or might not be, he certainly procured a welcome for our friends at the Boldero. Or, rather, the note Jack presented to the captain did.
"Ah, yes, you desire news of the shipwrecked sailors. Well, they are still here on board. One of them is hurt, but the other can talk. But they speak no English—I had better translate for you."
"First tell us what you know yourself, Captain," begged Cora.
"I know little, except what I have heard, of the foundering of theRamona," was the answer.
"Then you think she did go down?" asked Bess.
"I fear so—the sailors we picked up so affirm. All I can tell you is that, a day or so ago, as we were staggering along through the stress of the storm, the lookout sighted a small boat. No signs of life aboard were seen, but we stopped and picked it up. In the craft, which was one of the lifeboats from the Ramona, were two sailors, nearly dead from exposure, and one from hurts received."
"How was he hurt?"' asked Jack.
"He was shot, Senor."
"Shot!"
"Yes, it appears there was mutiny aboard the Ramona, as well as the horrors of the storm and shipwreck."
"Mutiny!" murmured Cora, a look of horror in her eyes. "Poor, poor mother!"
"You had better hear the story directly from the sailors," suggested Captain Ponchero. "I will summon the unwounded one. You will find that more satisfactory."
He came, a sorry and unfortunate specimen of a Spanish sailor. There followed a rapid talk, in the Castilian tongue, between him and the captain, and the latter then said:
"His story is this. They ran into the storm soon after leaving San Juan, and could not find, or, rather, did not dare to try, for the nearest harbor, as the seas were running too high to make it safe to go through the narrow entrance. They had to keep on, and this caused discontent among some of the crew.
"There was an uprising—a mutiny, and some of them tried to leave in the boats. The brave captain would not let them, but he was overpowered, and the mutineers, in the face of certain danger, turned the ship to put back to a harbor which the captain had passed because of the danger of trying to enter it in the storm."
"But how did the sailor get shot?" asked Jack.
"He worked against the mutineers—he and his comrade here," the captain answered. "Then those who had revolted, and seized the ship, ordered into small boats all who would not throw in their lot with them. So these two, with only a little food and water, were put adrift in the storm. It was almost certain death, but the boat lived through it, and we saved them."
"But what of the ship—the passengers?" asked Cora.
"The ship most certainly foundered," declared the captain. "The next morning bits of wreckage were found by these two survivors."
"Then all are lost?" half-sobbed Belle.
"I fear so, Senorita," was the answer of the captain, "unless some few reached islands in small boats."
"Is there a chance of that?" asked Jack.
"A slight chance, yes, Senor."
"Then it's a chance I'm going to take!" cried Jack.
"What do you mean?" asked his sister, wonderingly.
"I mean that we can go in search!" Jack went on, eagerly. "It's worth trying, isn't it, Walter?"
"I should say so—yes, by all means! But what sort of a craft can we get to cruise in?"
"I just heard of one!" said Jack, eagerly. "The Tartar. She's a big motor boat, and will be just the thing for us. I'm going to see about it right away. Who's with me for a cruise in the Tartar?"
"I am!" came from Cora.
"We're not going to be left behind," said Bess.
"Count on me, of course," spoke Walter, quietly.
"And, Senor Jack—may—may I go?" faltered Inez.
"Of course!"
"Senor—Senor Jack," she spoke in a tremulous whisper. "If you are successful—if you find ze lost ones, and we are near Sea Horse Island, would you leave me zere—wiz my father?"
"Leave you there?" cried Jack. "We'll bring your father away from there, if we get the chance! Now come on! We have lots to do!"
Jack's eyes glowed with the brightness of renewed health, and determination, as he looked at his sister, at Bess and Belle, and at Walter. It was like old times, when the motor girls had proposed some novel or daring plan, and the boys had fallen in with it. This time it had been Jack's privilege to make the suggestion, and the others were only too ready to agree.
"Oh, Jack, do you think we can do it?" asked Cora.
"Of course we can!" her brother cried, with a growing, instead of lessening, enthusiasm. "We'll just have to do something, and I can't think of anything better to do—can you? than going off in search of the folks."
"We simply must find them—if they're alive," spoke Bess, rather solemnly.
"We'll find them—alive!" predicted Walter, joining his cheerful efforts to those of his college chum.
"Oh, you Americans—you are so wonderful, so amazing!" whispered Inez. "I am so glad I am wiz you," and she divided her affectionate looks impartially between Jack and his sister.
"What do you think of it, Captain?" asked Walter of the skipper of the steamship. "Is it possible to go about down among these islands in a big motor boat?"
"Yes, if the boat be large enough, and seaworthy."
"I'm thinking of the Tartar," said Jack. "I heard of her from the engineer of the boat we came out in just now."
"Oh, the Tartar. Yes, she is a very fine boat, and quite safe, except in a very bad storm."
"Oh!" gasped Bess.
"But you are not likely to have bad blows now," the captain went on, "especially after this one we've just passed through. It is the last of the hurricane season, I hope. In fact, this was most unusual. Yes, I should say it would be very safe to make a cruise in the Tartar. I know the craft well."
"And what are the chances of success?" asked Walter in a low voice of the commander, as Jack, with his sister and the Robinson twins withdrew a little apart to discuss the important question of the coming cruise.
Captain Ponchero shrugged his shoulders in truly foreign fashion.
"One cannot tell, Senor," he said in a low voice. "Certainly it is a dubious tale the sailors told—a tale of mutiny and shipwreck. But the sea is a strange place. Many unforeseen things happen on it and in it. I have seen shipwrecked ones come back from almost certain death, and again—"
He hesitated.
"Well?" asked Walter, a bit impatiently. "Might as well hear the worst with the best."
"And again," resumed the captain, "I have seen what would appear to be the safest voyage result in terrible tragedy. So one who knows much of the sea, hesitates to speak with certainty about it. I should say, Senor, that the chance was worth taking."
"Then we may find some of them alive?"
"You may, and again—you may not. But it is worth trying. If you will come below with me, I will give you the exact longitude and latitude where we picked up the two sailors in the open boat. Then you can put for there, and make it the starting point of your search."
"Good idea," commented Walter.
By this time Jack and the others had finished their little discussion, and were eager to further question the captain concerning all the details he could give about the foundering of the Ramona. But there was little else that could be told.
The sailors had given all the information they possessed. They repeated again how the ship had suddenly run into a storm, and how the refusal of the captain to put into a port, hard to navigate in a storm, brought on the mutiny.
"But did they see any of our folks—either Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, or Mrs. Kimball?" asked Jack, while his sister and the twins hung breathless on the answer.
The sailors had not especially noticed any passengers. They had been in hard enough straits themselves, not having joined the mutineers.
"But they are certain the ship foundered? asked Cora.
"There seems to be little doubt of it, Senorita," said the captain. "It was a fearful storm. We had three boats carried away, as well as part of our port rail."
The weather was calm enough now, save for a heavy ground swell. The waters were marvelously blue, and overhead was the blue sky. Seen against the background of the wonderfully tinted hills of palms, the city of San Juan presented a most beautiful picture.
"Well, let's get busy," suggested Jack, and it was only by keeping thus occupied, mentally and physically, that he and his sister, as well as the twins, were enabled not to succumb to the grief that racked them. Belle, rather more nervous and temperamental than her sister, did give way to a little hysterical crying spell, as they were on their way back to the marina from the steamer, but this was due merely to a reaction.
"Don't, dear," said Cora, softly. "We'll find them, never fear!"
She put her arms about her chum, and Inez slipped a slim brown hand into one of Belles. Then the wave of emotion passed, and the girl was herself again.
"Are you going out for a long cruise?" asked Walter, "or shall you come back to San Juan from time to time? I ask, because I want to send word to my folks not to worry, if they don't hear from me very often."
"I think we'll cruise as long as we can," said Cora, who had assumed as much of the burden of the search as had her brother. "If the Tartar is large enough to allow us to take a big enough supply—of provisions and stores, we'll cruise until we—well, until we find out for certain what has happened."
Her voice faltered a little.
"Oh, the Tartar's big enough, Senorita," said the engineer of the motor boat in which they were making their way to shore. "You could go for a long cruise in her."
"Then we'll plan that," declared Jack. "Notify your folks accordingly, Wally."
"I shall. But you'll have to have help along, if she's as big as all that, won't you?"
"I suppose so," agreed Jack. "I'm not altogether up to the mark, if it comes to tinkering with a big, balky motor."
"I'd like to go as engineer," said the man at the wheel. "I've often run her, and I know her ways. If you were to ask the owner, Senor Hendos, he'd let me go."
The young people had taken a liking to Joe Alcandor, the obliging young engineer of the motor boat they had engaged to go out to the steamer, and Jack made up his mind, since he had to have help aboard the Tartar, to get this individual.
"This is a strange ending to our happy holiday," said Cora, with a sigh, as they left the boat and walked up the steps at the water's edge of the marina. The outing, up to now, had been a most happy one, once Jack's improvement in health was noticed.
"It hasn't ended yet," said Jack, significantly. "There's more ahead of us than behind us."
"I hope more happiness," said Cora, softly.
"Of course," whispered Jack.
They told Joe they would see Senor Hendos, and arrange with him for chartering the Tartar. Then, in two hacks, they made their way back to the hotel. All of them were anxious to get started on the cruise that might mean so much. "Do you really mean you'll take me wiz you?" asked Inez, of Cora, as they entered the hotel.
"Of course, my dear! I wouldn't think of leaving you," was the warm answer. "And we need you with us. Besides, you heard what Jack said about your father."
"Oh, will he try to rescue him?"
"I'm sure he will, if it's at all possible."
Something of the news concerning the young Americans was soon current in the hotel, and Cora and her friends were favored with many strange glances, as they walked through the foyer.
"We must thank Senor Ramo for his kindness in giving us the note to the captain,"' said Cora, ever thoughtful of the nice little courtesies of life.
"Indeed we must," agreed Belle, who had quite recovered her composure, and, save for a suspicious redness of the eyes, showed little of the grief at her heart.
Indeed, they were all rather stunned by the suddenness of the news, and only for the fact that under it lay a great hope, they would not have been able to hear up as well as they did.
The blow was a terrible one—to think that their loved ones were lost in a shipwreck! But there was that merciful hope—that eternal hope, ever springing up to take away the bitterness of death or despair.
There was, too, the necessity of work—hard work, if they were to go off on an unknown and uncertain cruise. And work is, perhaps, even better than hope, to mitigate grief.
So, though the sorrow would have been a terrible one, and almost unbearable, were it not for the ray of light and hope, they were able to hold themselves well together—these young Americans in a strange land.
"Jack, perhaps you had better go and thank Senor Ramo at once," suggested Cora. "He may be able to give you some good advice, too, about fitting up the Tartar for the cruise. He seems to know a great deal about these islands."
"I'll see him at once," agreed her brother. "Just send up my card to him, please," he requested the hotel clerk.
"To whom, Senor?"
"To Mr. Ramo."
"But he is not here—he is gone!"
"Gone?" Jack looked at the clerk blankly.
"Yes. He left, Senor, soon after you went away. He said business called him."
"That is strange," murmured Jack.
Inez, who had heard what was said, looked curiously at Cora, and then exclaimed:
"Ze papairs—for my father's release!"
A look of alarm showed in her face, as she hurried toward the stairway that led to her room.
"What's the matter?" asked Walter, quickly, as he saw Inez hurrying away. "She see alarmed about something."
"She is—or fancies she is," answered Cora. "It's about those papers which she hopes will free her father of that political charge which keeps him locked up—poor man."
"Did she lose them?"
"No, but as soon as she heard that Senor Ramo had left suddenly, she associated it with the taking of her documents, evidently."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Walter.
"That's what I say," added Cora. "But we mustn't make fun ofInez—she can't bear it."
"Of course not. Besides, I guess none of us feel very much like making fun," went on Walter.
"Our thanks to Senor Ramo will have to wait," said Jack, as he turned away from the hotel desk to rejoin his party. "And now let's get together, see what we have to take with us, and plan our cruise. I'll look up this man Hendos, who owns the Tartar, and see what arrangements I can make with him. Where's Inez?"
"Gone to her room," answered Cora. "I fancy we'd all better get ready for dinner. It's getting late."
They went up stairs, leaving the buzz of much talk behind them, for many of the hotel guests were speaking of the news concerning our friends.
As Cora was entering her apartment, Inez came out into the corridor in front of her room.
"Zey are gone, Senorita!" she gasped.
"Gone!"
"What?" asked Cora, half forgetting, in her own grief and anxiety, what the Spanish girl had gone to ascertain.
"My papairs—for my father! Oh, Senorita, what shall I do?"
"Gone?" echoed Cora. "Do you mean taken—stolen?"
"I fear so—yes. See, my room has been entered."
There was no doubt of it. A hasty glance showed Cora that, in the absence of Inez, her hotel room had been gone over quickly, but thoroughly. A small, empty valise, which Inez had trustingly hidden under the mattress of the bed lay on the floor, open. It had contained the papers which were so precious to her. Now they were gone—that was evident.
"Oh, Inez!" cried Cora, and in such a voice that Jack, who was just coming along with Walter, hurried up, inquiring:
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"Those papers Inez had, have been stolen!" cried Cora. "And SenorRamo is missing—has fled—"
"Hold on!" exclaimed Jack, laying a cautioning finger on his sister's lips. "It won't do to make such rash statements, and draw such damaging conclusions—in such a loud voice, Sis," and he whispered the last words. "These walls are very thin, you know, and these Spanish gentlemen are very punctilious on points of honor. I don't want to be called on to fight a duel on your behalf."
"Oh, Jack, how can you! Such a poor joke!"
"Not a joke at all, I assure you. Now let's have the whole story—but in here," and Jack drew his sister and Inez into the room of the Spanish girl, Walter following. Bess and Belle had gone into their own apartments a little before, and had not heard, the talk.
"Just in time," murmured Jack, as he closed the door, having a glimpse of a servant coming along the corridor. "Now, what is it, Inez?" and, after a quick glance about the ransacked apartment, he gazed at the girl.
"My papairs—for my father—zey are gone!" With a tragic gesture she pointed to the opened valise.
"Was your room this way when you came in?" asked Walter, who rather imagined he was gifted with amateur detective abilities.
"Just like this—yes, Senor Jack."
"Never mind the senor. Just plain Jack will do. And where were the papers?"
"In the valise—in my bed. But they are gone."
There was no doubt of that—also no doubt of the fact that Senor Ramo—the man who was suspected by Inez of being in the plot to keep her father in the political prison—was likewise missing.
"Hum," mused Jack. "It may be merely a coincidence—or it may not."
"I should say it was not!" declared Walter, positively.
"And get into trouble saying it, Wally," remarked Jack. "No, the best thing to do in this case is to keep quiet about it."
"But my papairs!" cried Inez. "My father—in prison. I must get him out."
"Yes, and I think you can best do it by not letting it be known that you have discovered the theft," Jack said.
"I think that's silly," declared Cora. "Whoever took those papers can't help but know, that their loss would be discovered at once. The condition the room was left in would make that certain. I can't see what good it is to keep quiet about it."
"I'll explain," Jack went on. "The person who did the robbery of course knows he, or she, did it, and knows that we won't be long in finding it out. But the hotel people don't know it yet, nor the guests, and it's possible to keep it from them. They're the ones who will do the talking. Fortunately, the newspapers here aren't like those up home. There won't be any reporters after us, if we keep still."
"But what's the advantage of it?" asked Cora.
"To puzzle and alarm the thief," was Jack's answer. "No doubt he—for I'll assume for the sake of argument that it was a man—will be looking for a hue and cry. He'll expect it, and when it doesn't come, he'll begin to imagine all sort of things."
"I see!" cried Walter. "He'll believe we are on his trail, have a clue and—"
"Exactly!" interrupted Jack. "You're a regular 'deteckertiff,' Wally. That's my game, to puzzle the thief, make him think all sort of things, and so worry him by our very quietness, that he may betray himself."
"Well, maybe that's the best plan," agreed Cora, rather doubtfully.
"But how shall I get my papairs back?" asked Inez, falteringly. "Ze papairs are needed to get my poor father from prison."
"Maybe not," said Jack, hopefully. "Anyhow, there are copies to be had, aren't there?"
"Yes, but zese were ze originals. I need zem!"
"And we'll get them back for you, if we can," broke in Jack. "We may be able to work without them, if we have a chance to get to Sea Horse Island on our cruise. I think our first duty is to try to find the missing ones."
"Oh, of course, yes, Senor!" cried Inez, quickly. "I should not intrude my poor troubles on you."
"Oh, that's all right," said Jack, good-naturedly. "We have a pretty big contract on our hands, and one trouble more or less isn't going to make much difference. Now don't forget—every body mum on this robbery. We'll puzzle the thief!"
"Do you think it, was Ramo?" asked Cora.
"I don't know. If he had any object in getting those papers we gave him the very chance he needed by all being away from the hotel," answered Jack. "And, if it wasn't he, it was some one else who has an object in keeping Mr. Ralcanto in jail. He'd have the same chance as Ramo had to get the documents. So the person we must look for is some one who really needed the papers. But, above all, we'll have to be cautious in making inquiries."
"Yes," agreed Cora. "Could you find out when Ramo left, and if he was near this section of the hotel?"
"I'll try," agreed Jack. "Now you girls begin to sort out the things you want to take along on the cruise. Cora, speak to Bess and Belle about it."
"Why, aren't we going to take all our baggage?"
"What! Fill the Tartar up with trunks full of fancy dresses, when we'll need every inch of room? I guess not! We'll all get down to light marching equipment. Just take what you can put in a suit-case. That's what Wally and I are going to do."
"Oh, but boys are so different; aren't they, Inez?"
"It matters not to me. A few things are all I have."
The Spanish girl looked helplessly and almost hopelessly at the opened valise. And then, as Jack and Walter went out to and what they could learn by cautious questions, the two girls "tidied up" the room, and went to tell Bess and Belle the news.
Jack and Walter could learn but little. Senor Ramo had departed suddenly, alleging a business call as an excuse for leaving the island on a steamer that sailed soon after the arrival of the one he had come in on. That was about all that could be safely learned.
Little else could be done, now, toward making plans for the rescue of the father of Inez. When Mr. Robinson was located, he might have something to suggest, but now all energies must be bent on the rescue work.
The news soon spread through the hotel that the "amazing Americans" were about to undertake a most desperate venture—that of cruising about in the blue waters of the Caribbean Sea, in search of their relatives who might have been able to save themselves from the wrecked ship. After a first glance at the map, and a consideration of the situation, Jack had voted for the inside, or Caribbean route, as being less likely to offer danger from storms.
Satisfactory arrangements for chartering the Tartar were made, and the engineer, Joe Alcandor, was engaged to look after the machinery, which, on the Tartar, was not a little complicated.
"With him along we can be more at ease," said Cora.