CHAPTER VIIIN THE FOG
The day before we sailed I spent an hour aboard theArgosarranging my things in my cabin. While returning in one of the yacht's boats I caught sight through the fog of two figures standing on the wharf.
I had a momentary impression that one of these was our chief engineer, George Fleming, but when I scrambled ashore only one of the two was in sight. The one I had taken to be our engineer had sheered off into the fog.
The outline of the other bulked large in the heavy mist, partly because of the big overcoat, no doubt. I had a feeling that I ought to know the man, but it was not until he stepped forward to me that I recognized him.
"A pleasant evening if one doesn't object to fog, Mr. Sedgwick," he said, lifting his hat and bowing.
"It's you, is it?" I answered, coolly enough.
"Thought I'd drop down and see how you aregetting along. TheArgoslooks like a good sailor. I congratulate you."
"Thanks."
"You sail to-morrow, I understand."
"Since you know already I'll save myself the trouble of telling you."
"Sharp work, Mr. Sedgwick. I needed only one good look at you to know you were a first-class man for this sort of thing."
"I am delighted that my work pleases Captain Bothwell."
He passed my irony with a laugh.
"Oh, I didn't say it pleased me. I'm after the treasure myself, and I'm going to get it. But I'm not a fool. I can appreciate even an enemy when I find him on the job."
"And of course your appreciation won't keep you from sticking a knife in him if you find it necessary."
"Of course not. I said I wasn't a fool," he admitted easily.
We were standing on the edge of the wharf, shut out from the world by a fog bank that left us to all intents alone. It was an uncanny place to meet one's dearest enemy. Faintly I could still hear the splashing of the oars as the boat that had brought me ashore moved back to theArgos.Otherwise no sound but the lapping of the waves at the piles broke the silence.
Our eyes met straight as a plummet falls. Each of us had his right hand in his overcoat pocket. I can't swear to what was in his fingers, but I felt a good deal safer for what was in mine. My back was still toward the bay, for I had a vision of the man who had disappeared—whoever he might be—slipping up through the white fog and sticking a knife between my shoulder-blades.
The captain gave me his friendliest smile.
"But you needn't be afraid. What would it profit me to get rid of you here? I don't suppose you have the map with you?"
At the last words his black eyes stabbed at me a question.
I shook my head.
"No, it wouldn't be worth while murdering me now to get the map. I'm not a fool either, captain. It isn't on me."
"So I judged. Then you may make your mind easy—for the present."
"I'm not so sure about that. Wouldn't it pay you to put me out of the road, anyhow? You'll not get the treasure so long as I'm alive, you know."
"There you touch my vanity, Mr. Sedgwick.I'm of a contrary opinion. Dead or alive you can't keep me from it."
"Have you never noticed, captain, that in this world a man's opportunities do not always match his inclinations?"
"I've noticed that a man gets what he wants if he is strong enough to take it."
"So far as I know you have made four attempts to get the map. Have you got it?"
"Not yet. Plenty of time though. When I need it I'll get it."
My skeptical laugh must have annoyed him.
"Then you'd better get busy if it's true that we sail to-morrow."
"Hope you'll have a pleasant trip."
"Thanks. Sorry we can't ask you, captain. But there really isn't room and our party is full. No doubt you'll be starting on a little jaunt of your own soon?"
"Yes, to-morrow, too, as it happens. Perhaps we may meet again. It's a small world after all, Mr. Sedgwick."
"We'll look out for you."
"Do. And go prepared for squalls. One never knows what may happen. The Pacific is treacherous. Likely enough you'll meet dirty weather."
"I'm thinking you're right. But the yacht is good for it."
"And the yacht's passengers?" he asked with angled brows.
"We're all good sailors."
"But isn't there a good deal of yellow fever in Panama?"
"Not now. There used to be."
"Haven't I heard of pirates in the Isthmus country?" he asked, smiling with superb impudence.
"That's in the past too, captain; but if we meet any, the vermin will be glad to sheer off. I'll promise you that."
The villain drew a breath of mock relief.
"That makes my mind easier, Mr. Sedgwick. I'll confess I've been a little troubled for you."
"Thanks for your kind thoughts, but I'm confident we can look out for ourselves."
Our words had been light enough, but be sure there was no laughter in the eyes that fastened each pair to the other. For me, I never was more vigilant in my life—and Bothwell knew it.
"Going up-town, captain? If not I'll say good evening."
He nodded genially.
"Pleasant voyage. Anddobe careful of the squalls and the fever and the pirates. Do youknow I can't help thinking you had better leave Evie at home for me to take care of."
"But you're leaving, too, I understood you to say. No, we'll take good care of her. I give you my word on that."
I had been edging round him with the intention of backing away. He held out his hand, but—well, my fingers were otherwise engaged. They still caressed a knobby bit of metal in my overcoat pocket.
At the last moment, so it appeared, he yielded to an impulse.
"Must we really be in opposite camps, Mr. Sedgwick? Come! Let's arrange a compromise. Neither of us alone has enough to go on. You need me and my scrap of map. I need you and your bit of chart. We'll consolidate forces and go to Panama together."
"Afraid you're a little late, captain. You play your hand and we'll play ours."
I had been increasing the distance between us. Now I turned sharply on my heel and walked away almost at a run, for I did not like the idea of taking with me a bullet in the small of my back.
At the end of the wharf a figure brushed past me. Night had begun to fall, and in the gray dusk I could not make sure, but again I was oddlystruck by its resemblance to our engineer, Fleming. I slued around my head to look a second time, but the fog had already swallowed him. Strange, I thought, that he had not recognized me; but perhaps, if the man was Fleming, he had found me too indistinct to know.
At any rate it was a matter of no great importance. I pushed past the warehouse to take an up-town car.
CHAPTER VIIIABOARD THE ARGOS
Blythe and I had agreed that an attempt would be made to relieve us of the map while we were carrying it from the safety-deposit vault to the ship. So far as we could see it was Bothwell's last chance to gain possession of the coveted chart, and he was not the man to leave a stone unturned.
At half past three we drove in the car of a friend to the International Safe Deposit Company's place of business. He waited outside while we went in to reclaim the document.
Five minutes later we reappeared, the paper in the inside pocket of my tightly buttoned coat. My eyes explored to right and left.
The thunder of trolley cars, the rumble of wholesale wagons, the buzz of automobiles, all made their contribution to the roar of the busy cañon up and down which men and women passed by hundreds. That Bothwell would make an attempt at a hold-up here seemed inconceivable. But if not here, then—where? He had to have the map or give up the fight.
Blythe followed me into the tonneau and our car swept out into the stream of traffic. Less than a quarter of an hour later we stepped down from the machine, shook hands with our friend, and took the boat which was waiting for us at the wharf. Even now we were alert, ready for any emergency that might occur.
Nothing happened, except our safe arrival at theArgos. Miss Wallace and her aunt were on deck to welcome us. Sam and I exchanged rather sheepish glances. Nobody likes to be caught making a mountain out of a mole hill, and that was apparently what we had done. Our elaborate preparations to defend the map during the past half hour had been unnecessary.
"Tide right, Mr. Mott?" Blythe asked.
"All right, sir."
"Then we'll start at once."
I retired to my cabin, disposed of a certain document, and presently returned to the deck. The engines were throbbing and theArgoswas beginning to creep.
"We're off," I said to Miss Wallace, who was standing by my side on the bridge deck leaning upon the rail.
"Yes, we're off. Luck with us," she cried softly with shining eyes.
I looked at her and smiled. The excitement that burned in her I could understand, since I too shared it. We were answering the call of the sea and its romance was tingling in our blood. Into what wild waters we were to be whirled none of us had the slightest guess. It was fortunate that the future was screened by a veil behind which we could not peep.
The quiver of the engines grew stronger. TheArgoswas walking smartly out into the bay, her funnels belching black smoke. A stiff wind was blowing and the vessel leaped as she took the waves. Behind us in the falling dusk the lights of the city began to come out like stars.
"I wonder when we'll see her again," my companion said softly, her gaze on the hill of twinkling lights.
Like a Winged Victory her fine, lithe figure was outlined by the wind, which had flung back the white skirt against the slender limbs, showing the flowing lines as she moved. In her jaunty yachting cap, the heavy chestnut hair escaping in blowing tendrils, a warmer color whipped into her soft cheeks by the breeze, there was a sparkle to her gayety, a champagne tang to her animation. One guessed her an Ionian goddess of the seareincarnated in the flesh of a delightful American girl.
It was this impression on me that gave the impetus to my answer.
"Not too soon, I hope."
Miss Berry joined us. I tucked her arm under mine and the three of us tramped the promenade deck. Mott went down to his dinner and Blythe took the wheel. My friend was an experienced sailor, and he had that dash of daring which somehow never results in disaster. We could see the men scurrying to and fro at his orders. The white sails began to belly out with the whistling wind.
Blythe roared an order down the speaking tube and swung round the spokes of the wheel. Straight toward the Golden Gate we sprang, bowling along with increasing speed. Past Tamalpais we scudded and through the narrows, out to the fresh Pacific like a bloodhound taking the scent.
"By the way she's going theArgossmells treasure at our journey's end," I laughed.
"Oh, I like this! Isn't it glorious?" the girl murmured.
"You come of sailor blood," I reminded her. "Many a girl would be in the hands of the ship's doctor already."
"Didn't know we had a doctor on board."
"Morgan will have to serve in lieu of one. But there goes the dinner gong. We must go and get ready."
"I suppose so," she sighed regretfully. "But it's a pity to miss a moment of this. Do you see that glow on the water? Is that why it's called the Golden Gate?"
"I fancy the argonauts called it that because it was the passage through which they passed on their way to the gold fields. And for the same reason we can give it that name too."
We moved to the stairway, which was in the pavilion, and descended to our rooms on the main deck.
As soon as I had entered mine I switched on the light and threw off my coat. Collar and tie followed the coat into the berth. I passed into the bath room and washed. At the moment I flung the towel back on the rack a sound came to me from my bedroom. I turned quickly, to see a diminutive figure roll from the back of the bed and untangle itself from my coat.
"Please, I'm awful sick, Mr. Sedgwick," a voice lugubriously groaned.
I stood staring at the little yellow face. The forlorn urchin was our office boy, Jimmie Welch.
"You young cub, what are you doing here?" I demanded.
"I'm a stowaway," he groaned. "Like Hall Hiccup, the Boy Pirate, you know. But, by crickey, I wouldn't a come if I'd a known it would be like this."
"Didn't I tell you that you couldn't come? How did you get here?"
"Golly, I'm sick! I'm going to die."
"Serves you right, you young rascal."
I didn't blow him up any more just then. Instead I hurriedly offered first aid to the seasick. He felt a little better after that.
"I told Mr. Mott you had sent me on an errand. He thought I'd gone ashore again, mebbe."
"That's where you'll go as soon as we reach San Pedro."
"Yes, sir. Hope so." He groaned woefully. "Thought you'd need a cabin boy, sir, but I'll never do it again, s'elp me."
"I'm going to give you a licking as soon as you get well. Don't forget that. Now I have to leave you. I'll be back after a while. Go to sleep if you can."
By reason of Jimmie I reached the dinner table as the soup was being removed. Only four of us messed in the cabin. Mott, the engineers,and Morgan had a separate table of their own aft.
"Late already, my boy. This won't do. Ship's discipline, you know. Make a report and clear yourself," Blythe called out as I entered.
"My patient seems a bit better," I announced, sitting down opposite Miss Wallace.
"Your patient?" that young woman repeated.
"Yes, I find I have a guest to share my cabin with me, and he has begun by yielding to an attack ofmal-de-mer."
"Is this a conundrum? I'm not good at them." This from Miss Berry.
"No, it's a stowaway. The conundrum is to know what to do with the little rascal."
"Meaning who?"
"James A. Garfield Welch. I found him tucked away in my berth, very much the worse for wear."
The Englishman helped himself to asparagus tips and laughed.
"He's certainly a persevering young beggar. He hung around me for three days trying to persuade me to take him. Now he's here on French leave."
"He'll have to make himself useful, now he's here. The little idiot imagines himself a sort of boy pirate, so he explained to me. I'm going to try to introduce a little sense into his system by means of a strap applied to the cuticle."
"Oh, I wouldn't," Evelyn begged quickly. "Poor fellow! I daresay he wanted to come as badly as we did."
"He happens to have a mother," I added dryly. "She's no doubt worrying her life out about the young pirate. I really think we owe him a licking on her account."
"Poor woman! She must be feeling dreadfully. Isn't there any way of letting her know that he is safe?" Miss Berry asked.
"We'll have to call in at San Pedro, though that means the loss of a day. We can send the youngster home from Los Angeles," Blythe suggested.
"If his mother is willing, Jimmie might go on with us. He would be useful to run errands," Evelyn proposed.
"Jimmie has a staunch friend in you, Miss Wallace. We'll think it over. There's plenty of time before we reach Los Angeles," our captain answered. "He can take the upper berth in the cook's cabin. Have him moved after dinner, Morgan."
We lingered after dinner till the second dog watch was over, when Blythe excused himself to go on deck. I soon followed him, for though I am no sailor I was rated as second officer on theArgos, Mott being the first.
I had not yet had a good view of the crew andI looked them over carefully as Blythe divided them in watches. They appeared a lively enough lot, though it struck me that one or two showed sullen faces.
Caine, the boatswain, was a villainous looking fellow, due in part to the squint of his eyes that set them at different angles. But he turned out a thoroughly capable man with a knack of getting out of the men all that was in them.
Under Mott's supervision I took a turn at the wheel, for I did not intend, if I could help it, to be deadwood throughout the whole cruise. I could see Miss Wallace pacing the deck with Blythe for hours, his cigar tip glowing in the darkness as they advanced toward the wheel house. I would have liked to join them, but I had set out to make of myself enough of a sailor to serve at a pinch, and I stuck to my task. It was late when I reached my cabin. I must have fallen asleep at once, for it was day again before I knew anything more.
We met at breakfast, the four of us, and not one but was touched by the loveliness of which we were the center. It was not a new story to Blythe—this blue arched roof of sky, this broad stretch of sea, this warm sun on a day cool enough to invigorate the blood—but he too showed a lively pleasure in it.
Miss Berry took some fancy work and a magazine with her on deck and spent the morning placidly in a steamer chair, but her niece and I were too full of our pleasure to rest so contentedly.
To any who have sailed on the glassy breast of the Pacific day after day, knowing all the little pleasures of life aboard a well-found turbine yacht, a description would be superfluous; to one who has never known it, such an attempt would be entirely futile. By either alternative I am debarred from trying to set down the delight of our days, the glory of our nights of stars.
CHAPTER IXBOTHWELL MAKES A MOVE
We put into San Pedro in the early morning and tied up opposite theHarvard. Blythe and I ran up to Los Angeles on the electric, taking Jimmie Welch with us.
No matter how well one may be equipped for an expedition, every port touched finds needs to be satisfied. After I had wired Mrs. Welch that her hopeful was safe and would be returned to her or retained as ship's boy at her desire, I spent the morning executing commissions for the ladies and attending to little matters that needed looking after.
We made an appointment to lunch at one of Los Angeles' numberless cafeterias. I went out of my way to the telegraph office to get the answer from Mrs. Welch, for which reason I was a few minutes late to luncheon.
A stranger to me was sitting opposite Blythe. My friend introduced him as Mr. Yeager, known all over Arizona as Tom Yeager. It appeared thathe had come to the coast with a couple of carloads of steers, having disposed of which, time was hanging heavy on his hands.
Anybody who has lived in the cattle country knows the Yeager type. He was a brown, lithe man, all sinew, bone and muscle. His manner was easy and indifferent, but out of his hard face cool, quiet eyes judged men and situations competently.
Over many straight and crooked trails his thirty-five years had brought him without shame. No doubt he had often skirted the edge of law, but even when he had been a scamp his footsteps had followed ways justified by his code.
I gathered from their talk that Blythe and he had served together in the Rough Riders during the Spanish War. They were exchanging reminiscences and Jimmie Welch was listening open-mouthed to their conversation.
"Say, ain't he a peacherino, Mr. Sedgwick," whispered my young hopeful. "Get onto those muscles of his. I'll bet he's got a kick like a mule in either mitt. Say, him and Teddy Roosevelt must 'a' made the dagoes sick down in Cuba."
More jokes and stories of camp life passed back and forth.
"Do you reckon he ever killed a Spaniard?" Jimmie murmured to me.
"Better ask him," I suggested.
But at thought of this audacity to his hero the young pirate collapsed. I put the question for him.
The cowman grinned.
"Only one, Jimmie. And he ain't all mine. Me and a fellow called the Honorable Samuel Blythe was out scouting one day while we were pushing through the tangle of brush toward Santiago. I reckon we got too anxious. Anyhow, we bumped into an ambush and it was a swift hike for us back to the lines. The bullets were fair raining through the leaves above us. Recollect, Sam?"
Blythe nodded.
"Rather. Whenever I think of it pins and needles run down my back."
"Well, we cut a blue streak for camp, those fellows after us on the jump. I used to think I was some runner, but the Honorable Samuel set me right that day. He led good and strong, me burning the wind behind and 'steen Spaniards spread out in the rear. A fat little cuss was leading them, and the way he plowed through that underbrush was a caution. You want to remember, Jimmie, that the thermometer was about a hundred and fifty in the shade. I went till I was fit to drop, then looked round and saw Don Fatty right close. Ihadn't invited him to my party, so I cracked away at him with my gun."
"And you killed him," Jimmie breathed, his eyes popping out.
"Killed nothing," answered the Arizonian in disgust. "I missed him a mile, but he was so plumb discouraged with the heat and with running his laigs off that he up and laid down and handed in his checks. He's the only Spaniard I've got to my credit and Mr. Blythe here always claimed half of him because he ran faster."
"You're kidding me," announced Jimmie promptly.
"Well, I've always had a kind a suspicion myself that mebbe he had just fainted. But I like to figure it out that I destroyed one of my country's enemies that day, with a leetle help from my friend here."
While Yeager was joyously fabricating this yarn Blythe had been writing on the back of an envelope. This he now shoved quietly across to me.
He's as well-plucked as they make them, Jack—and straight as a string. Want to make him a proposition to join us?
Those were the lines he had penciled on the envelope. Beneath them I wrote two words: "Suits me."
Jimmie's mother had consented to let him go on with us. Now I took him away to get some necessary wearing apparel, leaving Blythe to make a proposition to Yeager.
"Your mother says I'm in full charge of you. That means I'm to lick you whenever you need it," I told Jimmie, for I had already discovered that my young sleuth needed considerable repressing from time to time.
"Yes, sir. I'll do whatever you say," agreed Young America, who was long since over his seasickness and was again eager for the voyage.
The Englishman nodded when I saw him an hour later.
"Tom's in with us."
"He understands this ain't a pleasure excursion, doesn't he?" I asked.
"Folks take their pleasure different, Mr. Sedgwick," drawled the cowman. "I shouldn't wonder but I might enjoy this little cruise even if it gets lively."
"My opinion is that it may get as lively as one of your own broncos," I explained.
"I'll certainly hope for the worst," he commented.
I turned Jimmie over to my friends and spent the afternoon with a college classmate who wasdoing newspaper work on theHerald. In looking up a third man who also had belonged to our fraternity, time slipped away faster than we had noticed. It was getting along toward sunset when I separated from my friends to take the interurban for San Pedro at the big electric station. Before my car reached the port, dusk was falling.
Whistling as I went, I walked briskly down the hill toward the wharf. As I passed an alley my name was called. I stopped in my stride and turned. Then a jagged bolt of fire seared my brain. My knees sagged. I groped in the darkness, staggering as I moved. About that time I must have lost consciousness.
When I came to myself I was lying in the alley and a man was going through my clothes. A second man directed him from behind a revolver leveled at my head. Both of them were masked.
"I tell you it ain't on him," the first man was saying.
"We want to make dead sure of that, mate," the other answered.
"If he's got it the damned thing is sewed beneath his skin," retorted the first speaker.
"He's coming to. We'll take his papers and his pocketbook and set sail," the leader decided.
I could hear their retreating footsteps echo downthe alley and was quite sensible of the situation without being able to rise, or even cry out. For five minutes perhaps I lay there before I was sufficiently master of myself to get up. This I did very uncertainly, a little at a time, for my head was still spinning like a top. Putting my hand to the back of it I was surprised to discover that my palm was red with blood.
As I staggered down to the wharf I dare say the few people who met me concluded I was a drunken sailor. TheArgoswas lying at the opposite side of the slip, but two of our men were waiting for me with a boat. One of them was the boatswain Caine, the other a deckhand by the name of Johnson.
"Split me, but Mr. Sedgwick has been hurt. What is it, sir? Did you fall?" the boatswain asked.
"Waylaid and knocked in the head," I answered, sinking down into the stern on account of a sudden attack of dizziness.
Caine was tying up my head with a handkerchief when the mists cleared again from my brain.
"All right, sir. A nasty crack, but you'll be better soon. I've sent Johnson up to have a lookout for the guys that done it," the boatswain told me cheerily.
"No use. They've gone to cover long since. Call him back and let's get across to the ship."
"Yes, sir. That will be better."
He called, and presently Johnson came back.
"Seen anything of the scoundrels, Johnson?" demanded Caine.
"Not a thing."
I had been readjusting the handkerchief, but I happened to look up unexpectedly. My glance caught a flash of meaning that passed between the two. It seemed to hint at a triumphant mockery of my plight.
"Caine is a deep-sea brute, mean-hearted enough to be pleased at what has happened," I thought peevishly. Later I learned how wide of the mark my interpretation of that look had been.
A chorus of welcome greeted me as I passed up the gangway to the deck of theArgos. One voice came clear to me from the rest. It had in it the sweet drawl of the South.
"You're late again, Mr. Sedgwick. And—what's the matter with your head?"
"Nothing worth mentioning, Miss Wallace. Captain Bothwell has been trying to find what is inside of it. I think he found sawdust."
"You mean——"
"Knocked in the head as I came down to thewharf. Serves me right for being asleep at the switch. Think I'll run down to my room and wash the blood off."
Yeager offered to examine the wound. He had had some experience in broken heads among the boys at his ranch, he said.
"Perhaps I could dress the hurt. I had a year's training as a nurse," suggested Miss Wallace, a little shyly.
"Mr. Yeager is out of a job," I announced promptly.
The girl blushed faintly.
"We'll work together, Mr. Yeager."
She made so deft a surgeon that I was sorry when her cool, firm fingers had finished with the bandages. Nevertheless, I had a nasty headache and was glad to get to bed after drinking a cup of tea and eating a slice of toast.
CHAPTER XANOTHER STOWAWAY
Southward ho! Before the trade winds we scudded day after day, past Catalina Island and San Diego, past Santa Margarita lying like a fog bank on the offing, out into the warm sunshine of the tropical Pacific.
We promised ourselves that after the treasure had been lifted and we were headed again for the Golden Gate, our sails should have a chance to show what they could do alone, but now Blythe was using all his power to drive theArgosforward.
What plans Bothwell might have we did not know, but we were taking no chances of reaching Doubloon Spit too late. If we succeeded in getting what we had come after there would be plenty of time to dawdle.
No days in my life stand out as full of enjoyment as those first ones off the coast of Lower California and Mexico. Under a perfect sky we sailed serenely. Our fears of Bothwell had vanished. We had shaken him off and held the winning handin the game we had played with him. The tang of the sea spume, of the salt-laden spray was on our lips; the songs of youth were in our hearts.
Every hour that I was not on duty, except those given to necessary sleep, I spent in the company of Evelyn Wallace. Usually her aunt was also present, and either Blythe or Yeager. That did not matter in the least, so long as my golden-brown beauty was near, so long as I could watch the dimples flash in her cheeks and the little nose crinkle to sudden mirth, or could wait for the sweep of the long lashes that would bring round to mine the lovely eyes, tender and merry and mocking by turns.
Faith, I'll make a clean breast of it. I was already fathoms deep in love, and my lady did not in the least particularly seem to favor me. There were moments when hope was strong in me. I magnified a look, a word, the eager life in her, to the significance my heart desired, but reason told me that she gave the same friendly comradeship to Blythe and Yeager.
It is possible that the absorption in this new interest dulled my perception of external matters. So at least Sam hinted to me one night after the ladies had retired. Mott was at the wheel, a game of solitaire in the smoking room claimed Yeager.Blythe and I were tramping the deck while we smoked.
"Notice anything peculiar about the men to-day and yesterday, Jack?" he asked in a low voice.
We were for the moment leaning against the rail, our eyes on the phosphorescent light that gleamed on the waves.
"No-o. Can't say that I have. Why?"
He smiled.
"Thought perhaps you hadn't. When man's engaged——"
"What!" I interrupted.
"—— engaged in teaching a pretty girl how to steer, he doesn't notice little things he otherwise might."
"Such as——" I suggested.
He looked around to make sure we were alone.
"There's something in the wind. I don't know what it is."
"Something to do with the crew?"
"Yes. They know something about the reason why we're making this trip. You haven't talked, of course?"
"No."
"Nor Miss Wallace? Perhaps her aunt——"
"It doesn't seem likely. Whom would she talk to?"
"Some of the men may have overheard a sentence or two. The point is that they are talking treasure in the f'c'sle. Morgan got it from Higgins."
"From the cook?"
"Yes. Afterward the man was sorry he had spoken. He's the type that can't keep a secret. Some of it is bound to leak out in his talk."
"Couldn't Morgan find out where Higgins learned what he knows?"
"No. I had him try. The man was frightened about what he had already said. He wouldn't say another word. That doesn't look well."
After a moment of reflection I spoke.
"Perhaps Bothwell may have told some of the men before we started. I saw him talking to a man that looked like our chief engineer."
"When was that?"
I told in detail about my meeting with Bothwell on the wharf. Of course I had mentioned the occurrence at the time, but without referring to Fleming.
"Yes, he may have told Fleming about it, but——"
The uncompleted sentence suggested his doubt.
"You think he isn't the man to give away anything without a good reason?"
"You've said it."
"Of course it's really no business of the crew what we are going after."
"True enough, but we agreed among ourselves to tell them at the last moment and in such a way as to enlist them as partners with us. Unless I guess wrong, their feeling is sullenness. They think we're after booty in which they have no share."
"They'll feel all the kinder to us when we let them know that a percentage of our profits is to go to the crew."
"Will they? I wonder."
He was plainly disturbed, more so than I could find any justification for in the meager facts and surmises he had just confided to me.
"What is troubling you? What are you afraid of?"
"I can't put a name to my feeling, but I jolly well wish they didn't know. Seamen are a rough lot and they get queer ideas."
"You don't imagine for an instant that they'll maroon us and hoist the Jolly Roger, do you?" I asked with a laugh.
He did not echo my laugh.
"No, but I don't like it. I thought we had thegame in our own hands, and now I find the crew has notions, too."
"Don't you think you're rather overemphasizing the matter, Sam?"
"Perhaps I am." He appeared to shake off his doubts. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I am. But I thought it best to mention the thing to you."
"Glad you did. We'll keep an eye open and, if there's any trouble, nip it in the bud."
This was easy enough to say, but the event proved far otherwise. Within twenty-four hours we were to learn that serious trouble was afoot.
It was midday of a Saturday, and the sky was clear and cloudless as those which had gone before. During the forenoon we had been doing a steady fifteen knots, but there had been some slight trouble with the engines and we were now making way with the sails alone while the engineers overhauled the machinery.
Yeager and I were standing near the cook's scuppers fishing for shark with fat pork for bait. More than once I had caught the flash of a white-bellied monster, but Mr. Shark was wary about taking chances.
Dugan, our carpenter, stopped as he was passing, apparently to watch us. Glancing at him I noticed something in his face that held my eyes.
"There's trouble afoot, Mr. Sedgwick," he broke out in a low, jerky voice. "For God's sake, make a chance for me to talk to you or Captain Blythe!"
The cook came out of his galley at that moment. My wooden face told no tales.
"No chance. The beggar's too shy. I've had enough. How about you, Yeager?"
"Me to," the Arizonian laughed easily, and he hauled up the line.
I strolled forward to the pilot house, stopping to chat for an instant with Miss Berry, who lay in a steamer chair under the awning. For I had no intention of letting the men suspect that Dugan had told me anything of importance.
Blythe was at the wheel. I told him what Dugan had said. Our captain did not turn a hair.
"There's a shingle loose on the edge of the roof. Call Dugan to nail it tight."
The carpenter brought a hammer and nails. Tom Yeager meanwhile was sitting on a coil of rope talking to Caine. His laughter rippled up to us care-free as that of a schoolboy. He never even glanced our way, but I knew he would be ready when we needed him.
The captain turned the wheel over to me and stepped outside of the wheelhouse. Three or four of the men were lounging about the deck. So faras they could see, Blythe was directing the carpenter about the work and the latter was explaining how it could be best done.
"Keep cool, my man. Don't let them guess what you are saying," the Englishman advised, lighting a cigar.
"What have you to tell me?"
"Mutiny, sir. That's what it is. We're after treasure. That's the story I've heard, and the men mean to take the ship."
I thought of Evelyn and her aunt, and my heart sank.
Sam stretched his arms and yawned.
"When?"
"Don't know, sir. I've picked up only a little here and there. Caine came to me this morning and asked me if I would go in with them."
Dugan drove two nails into the shingle.
"Do you know which of the men are stanch?"
"No, sir. Can't say as I do, outside of Alderson. Tom's all right."
"What about arms?"
"They have plenty. They've been packed in a bulkhead, but Fleming and Caine gave them out to the men this morning."
"The deuce! That looks ugly. They must be getting ready for business soon. If Caine approachesyou again, fall in with his plans. Find out all you can, especially what men we can rely on. That will do."
"Yes, sir."
As soon as the man had gone the captain turned to me with a fighting gleam in his quiet eyes.
"Well, Jack, it's worse by a devilish lot than I had thought. We're in for mutiny. I wouldn't ask for anything better than a turn with these wharf rats if it weren't for the ladies. But with them aboard it's different. Wish I knew when Mr. Caine intends to set the match to the powder."
"What's the matter with my going down into the men's quarters and having a look around? I might stumble on some information worth while."
He shook his head.
"No, thanks. I need my second officer. If he went down there an accident might happen to him—due to a fall down the stairway or something of the sort."
"Then let me send Jimmie. Nobody would pay any attention to him. He could go into their quarters without suspicion."
"It would be safe enough for him at present. Why not? Don't tell him too much, Jack."
"Trust me."
Jimmie jumped at the chance to go sleuthingagain. I had told him a yarn about suspecting some of the men had whisky concealed in the ship. He was away less than half an hour, but when he came back it was with a piece of news most alarming.
"Mr. Sedgwick," he gasped, "you remember that big, black-faced guy you set me trailing in 'Frisco—Captain what's-his-name—well, he's on this ship sure as I'm a foot high!"
My heart lost a beat. "Certain of that, Jimmie?"
"Yep, it's a lead-pipe cinch. Saw him in the engine room talking to Mr. Fleming. When he seen me Mr. Fleming called me to come down. But not for Jimmie. He took a swift hike up the stairs."
The boy was all excitement. For that matter so was I, though I concealed it better. If Bothwell were on board the ship as a stowaway the aspect of affairs was more serious even than we had thought.
"You're sure it was Captain Bothwell, Jimmie?"
"Say, would I know me own mother? Would I know Jim Jeffries or Battling Nelson if I got an eyeful of them walking down Market Street? Would I be sure of the Chronicle Building if I set my peepers on it? Betcherlife."
"How was he dressed?"
"In sailors' slops. Didn't have on any coat. Wasn't right sure of him at first, 'cause he's run a lawn mower over them whiskers of his. But this guy's the original Bothwell all right, all right."
"Jimmie, listen to me. Don't whisper a word of this. Do you hear?"
"I'm a clam."
"And don't go exploring in that end of the ship again. Captain Bothwell would as soon wring your neck as a chicken's, my boy. Keep away from the forecastle."
Immediately I joined Blythe on the bridge and told him what Jimmie had discovered.
The captain nodded.
"That explains what was puzzling us. Bothwell has been too shrewd for us. He must have arranged it to throw his men in our way when we were selecting a crew. The scoundrel is laughing in his sleeve at us because we're taking him and his men at our expense to the treasure."
"He's diddled us beautifully," I admitted with a sour grin.
"I grant him one round. The man is dangerous as a wild beast that has escaped from its cage. But we're warned now. If he bests us it's our own fault."
"It will be a finish fight, no surrender and no quarter."
My friend nodded, his jaw gripped tight.
"You've said it."
"We've one advantage. All of us will stand together. He can't hold his riffraff long. They will quarrel among themselves. Every day that passes works in our favor."
"Right enough, but Bothwell knows this as well as we do. He'll move soon. We've forced his hand by discovering his presence. Now he can't let us get into port because he knows we would get help against him."
"That's true."
"Unless I guess wrong we'll hear from him inside of twenty-four hours."
"Since it has to be, the sooner the better."
Blythe shrugged his broad, lean shoulders coolly.
"What must be must. As for Captain Bothwell, I don't think he'll have an easy time of it. If he doesn't like the treatment he's going to get he'll have nobody to blame but himself. Nobody asked him on board."
"We must lose no time in making preparations to meet an attack."
"You're right. Tell Mr. Mott I wish to see him. Have Yeager look our weapons over and make surethat they are loaded. Tell him to guard the armory until further notice. Better give Morgan a revolver at once and slip Dugan one if you can."
The flinty resolution in his eye warmed my heart. Man for man, I was ready to back Blythe against Bothwell.
The Scotch-Russian had more of the devil in him, a starker cruelty, a more blazing passion, and perhaps greater cunning; but if I read the Englishman aright there was in him that same quiet force which carried Captain Scott to the south pole and afterward gave to the world that immortal letter, written in a bleak Antarctic waste of icy death.
Sam Blythe would play the game out steadily to a fighting finish.