Honolulu Bay, with its beautiful shores and white houses with red roofs, faded out behind theSeamewone sunny morning, and the two boys, up in the chart house with the captain, began to see wild visions of what lay before them. Taking a chart, Captain Hollinger traced out their future course across the Pacific.
"You see, boys, we can take a straight course east-south-east from the Islands. That brings us here, to the Philippines, but we'll not stop. Going right ahead under Mindanao, we'll round up into the Sulu Sea and cut through Balabac Straits, north of Bornea. That brings us in among the coral reefs—see how thick they're marked on the chart?—and so straight across the south China Sea to Tringanu."
"And this here's Kuala Besut, eh?" Mart placed his finger on the Malay coast, just inside the Redang Islands.
"Right you are, Mart! You see how the coast is low all along there, with lagoons? Wait a minute—here's a larger chart."
Bringing out another chart showing the Malay coasts, the captain pointed to the river mouth in question.
"You see, there's a lagoon inside the entrance, about nine miles long, and closed in from the sea by this island. Jerry says that the lagoon makes a fine harbor, and is deep enough for the yacht. There are no hills close to the coast, but there's plenty of jungle, and we'll find some tigers without trouble."
"Sure?" asked Bob skeptically. His father laughed.
"Why, until late years they used to shoot them down at the city of Singapore itself! I'll take a trip in first, to make sure it'll be all right for you to come along, and while I'm gone you can take care of the yacht. Then we'll make up a grand hunting party, and everybody will get a tiger, eh?"
"Bully!" exclaimed Mart eagerly, and departed to his wireless with a sheaf of messages to be sent off via Honolulu. Having sent them and arranged for answers to be sent at two o'clock that afternoon, he rejoined Bob and went down to mess.
That afternoon they gained their last sight of land for many days, as theSeamewentered the Kamukahi Channel, passing between the green-clad hills of Niihau and Kauai, and then struck out on her straight course for the southernmost of the Philippines, with nearly five thousand miles of sea before her and seventeen days of journeying, if all went well.
For two days all went well, indeed, and then came on what Liverpool Peters described as a moderate gale, but which seemed like a hurricane to Mart. They had had fine weather so far, and Mart had long ago dismissed all thoughts of seasickness, but now he gave up completely. Bob had long since been seasoned, of course, and poor Mart suffered alone for three terrible days.
On the third day he felt sure that he was dying, but when Bob came down to the stateroom and grinningly offered him a big chunk of raw fat pork, Mart forgot his symptoms suddenly. Flinging himself out, he caught his tormentor and bore him to the floor. Bob rose with a bleeding nose, wiped the pork from his face, and fled; and Mart found that he had recovered his health suddenly. After a good meal he was himself again, and the two boys were too firm in friendship to be shaken by a good-humored "scrap" of such a nature.
Then ensued such days as Mart Judson had never dreamed of, when they got into the doldrums, the powerful engines of the yacht forcing her ahead at a steady fifteen knots through calm and glassy waters. The sun was tremendously hot, of course, but the yacht's motion created a perpetual breeze, while her awnings kept the bridge and lower decks cool.
They were far out of the course of steamers, and saw no craft of any kind, save fleets of "Portuguese men-o'-war," as Joe Swanson and the others called the jellyfish squadrons. Indeed, there was no lack of sea life all about them. Mart ate fried flying-fish for the first time in his life, and one day the Kanakas on watch set up a yell of "Shark! Him shark!"
All hands rushed out on deck for the fun. Getting in the extreme stern, Mart and Bob thrilled at sight of the dorsal fin cutting the water twenty feet astern, while the shark could plainly be seen gobbling the refuse which the cook had just flung out from the galley. His long, dirty-white body was anything but pleasant, and when he turned over to catch a morsel and his V-shaped mouth became evident, Mart felt a repulsion that was little short of fear.
The whole crew came aft in high glee, while "Liverpool" Peters, the second officer, bore an immense hook made fast to a line. Having baited the hook with a lump of pork, he flung it over the rail; the boys craned forward eagerly, and an instant later they saw the floating pork vanish in the maw of the shark.
"Pull!" yelled Peters, and the men made fast to the line. Then ensued an hour of the wildest excitement, for the shark fought gamely, but he could not bite through the big steel shank of the hook, and was finally drawn alongside. Peters finished him with a revolver bullet, and the Kanakas dined on roast shark that night.
More than once after that they caught sharks, as well as several of the pilot fish which were continually leaping beneath the bows of the yacht, while the boys managed to get good sport with smaller fish. Best of all, however, was the shooting at porpoises.
Every morning Captain Hollinger would fetch his rifles up to the chart house, and the boys would join him. There, sitting in their deck chairs beneath the awnings, they would load up the rifles and sit watching.
Suddenly, leaping out of the sea abruptly, perhaps half a mile off and perhaps fifty feet away, something would break the water. Up would shoot the great dark body, the whole fish darting clear in the air to fall back with hardly a splash, in a graceful curve. When he first saw the sight, Mart could hardly contain himself; the thrill of seeing that great body swirl up into the air in plain sight was wonderful. Over and over again it would be repeated, as the huge fish circled the vessel; then it would vanish as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come.
"But s'pose we wounded 'em?" asked Bob hesitatingly the first morning.
"Nonsense!" laughed the captain, taking a quick shot at one of the flashing bodies a hundred yards away. "In the first place, you're not likely to score a hit, Bob. In the next place, these are little twenty-two caliber bullets; unless it happened to penetrate a vital part, one of these little pellets won't bother a ten or fifteen-foot porpoise. It might sting him a little, if it penetrated his hide, but that's all. It'll give you the best kind of shooting practice, too."
Reassured by this speech, the two boys pitched in. There was no lack of ammunition aboard theSeamew, and there seemed to be no lack of porpoises anxious to serve as moving targets. And, indeed, Mart soon found that he need spend no worry over leaving wounded fish to flounder out their lives.
So rapidly did he have to shoot, so quickly did he have to meet the unexpected risings of the porpoises, that it was several days before he could begin to come anywhere near the mark. Bob did better, having had more practice in shooting, and the captain proved himself a past master. But at no time did any thought of cruelty occur to either of the boys again, since it proved to be exactly as Captain Hollinger had said, and they saw no sign of dead or wounded fish in their wake.
"I wouldn't mind shooting a shark," declared Mart one morning to his chum. "Do you s'pose one of these rifles would kill one?"
"What—twenty-twos? Not much!" and Bob laughed scornfully. "They can stand an awful lot o' bullets, Mart. I tell you—next time you sight a shark after us, I'll get a couple o' dad's thirty-thirty rifles and we'll have some real shooting."
Two days after this, indeed, a shark was attracted under their counter, and each boy got a shot at him. What effect the bullets had, they never knew, for the shark turned and disappeared rapidly. Mart had missed, not allowing for refraction, while Bob's shot had gone true, but they had learned their lesson. The next time a shark showed up, they hooked him first, then began target-practice with the heavy rifles.
The shark, while having comparative freedom of action, was forced to follow the ship, and the two boys pumped bullet after bullet, while the crew cheered or mocked their efforts in impartial criticism. Mart was amazed to find that after scoring twenty or thirty hits, the shark still plunged and leaped as strongly as ever, although a red trail was seeping out into the water behind him. Finally Captain Hollinger took a hand in the game and with three well-placed bullets killed the shark.
"That's enough for me," declared Mart disgustedly putting down his rifle. "It doesn't give the brute a fair show and it's too much like butchery. I'm satisfied."
"Here too," nodded Bob, disdaining his father's laughter. "I guess I'll stick to the twenty-twos and porpoises. Too much blood in sharks."
So that, after this, there was no more shooting at sharks. And for that matter, something occurred the very next day that served to take the boys' minds off sharks for some time to come.
Up until now there had been no trouble whatever aboard theSeamew. The crew were paid good wages, and their food was far superior to that of the ordinary forecastle galley. The engine-room crew was composed of two Scotch engineers and a gang of Kanakas, and the brown-skinned sailors were all willing and cheerful workers.
The second mate, however, did not get on well with the men who had been shipped by old Jerry Smith. Peters was an excellent seaman, and was far easier on the men than was the first mate, Swanson. Yet Swanson was obeyed with great alacrity, probably because he did not hesitate to bully the men, while Peters had some difficulty in making the men adopt what he considered their proper attitude. With Captain Hollinger there was of course no trouble whatever.
The day after they had shot the shark, the boys were waiting for mess-call, and were looking over some magazines in the library saloon. Suddenly they heard voices in altercation on the deck, and the tramp of feet, while the angry tones of Peters rose deep and vehement.
"Something wrong!" exclaimed Mart, springing to the companionway.
"Hold on," cried Bob hastily, joining him. "Don't get mixed up in any row, Mart."
"No danger," chuckled the other. "Hello! By golly, Liverpool's mad for fair!"
And so he was. Looking out the door of the companionway on to the starboard deck-alley of the yacht, they saw that the awnings were up and the decks were being holystoned. Outside the door stood a bucket of water, a big holystone beside it, while the one-eyed seaman Birch was just rising to his feet from the deck. Peters was standing over him, his face dark.
"Don't go to sleep, there," commanded the mate sharply. "If I catch you again with a pipe alight aft of the fo'c'sle, you'll get worse than that. Move lively!"
Birch wiped his cheek, where the second officer's fist had evidently landed, his one eye flamed angrily and his hand dropped to his sheath knife.
"Blast you!" he muttered thickly. "I'll have the law on you—"
Without a word Peters' fist shot out, caught the evil-faced seaman full on the jaw, and Birch went back with a crash. Peters looked calmly at him as he rose.
"Say 'sir' when you talk to an officer, an' no back talk either," ordered the mate. "And you get gay with that knife again, Birch, and I'll give you what-for! Now move lively with that work, you lazy dog."
Birch stooped over his holystone, and Peters turned to go forward again. As he did so, Birch straightened up suddenly. Gazing malevolently at the broad back of the retreating mate, the one-eyed seaman whipped out his sheath knife, a wild spasm of fury contracting his wrinkled face.
Instinctively Mart took a step forward, but Bob caught his arm and held him back with a muttered word. Before Birch could move, a shadow fell across the deck and old Jerry Smith came padding along in his bare feet, his white hair flying in the wind. He caught Birch's arm, and for a second the two men stared into each other's faces. And when Mart saw the features of old Jerry, he did not wonder that Birch paused, for the quartermaster's face was absolutely livid with mingled fear and anger, while his blue eyes shone out clear and baleful.
"You fool!" muttered Jerry, as Peters disappeared forward. "You fool!"
"Mebbe I'm a fool an' mebbe I ain't," responded Birch sullenly. "But I'm goin' to git that bucko mate yet, Shark Smith!"
"Stow your jaw and get to work!" snapped Jerry, and passed on like a shadow.
Mart drew back and looked at his chum. Bob's face was white.
"That's no way to treat men," exclaimed Mart softly. "If I was Birch—"
"Oh, shucks—what's the matter with you?" Bob's eyes blazed excitedly. "That's nothin'—you've got to handle sailors like that. But did you hear what he said to Jerry? Called him 'Shark Smith'—and Jerry heard him make threats and said nothing!"
"It's funny discipline," admitted Mart slowly. "But a quartermaster ain't an officer, remember. And I don't blame Birch for being mad."
So the incident passed, for indeed it was a mere incident in the sea-routine. Officers are quick to exact instant obedience, and the least show of rebellion or "back talk" is answered with a blow. But even so, the evil face of the one-eyed seaman flitted through Mart's dreams for many a night thereafter, although Birch seemed doubly respectful toward the second mate, as indeed did all the crew.
TheSeamewhad passed through Balabac Strait and was standing out into the reef-strewn South China Sea, on the last leg of her course, when it happened.
That afternoon the diving suits and pumps had been broken out and put in order, after which the grinning Kanakas and Jerry Smith had given Mart and Bob some practical lessons in dressing up in the cumbersome water-tight outfit, and in working the pumps. In the evening they had sat up late with Captain Hollinger, talking rifles and ammunition, and they were weary enough to sleep soundly.
Mart's porthole was open that night, as usual. He woke up suddenly to find the setting moon streaming in across his face, and got up to hang a towel across the open port, in order not to exclude the fresh air. As he did so, he heard the ship's bell forward strike eight bells, and knew that it was midnight.
There came a faint pad of bare feet forward—the watches being changed. Then, as he stood for a moment gazing out at the moonlit sea, he heard the deep voice of the second mate, Liverpool Peters, who had apparently just taken charge of the deck.
"All right, Mr. Swanson. I'll keep a sharp eye on that chart. Sou'-sou'-east by a half east it is."
Mart went sleepily back to bed and thought no more of it. He knew that they were in dangerous waters, but the yacht had a splendid outfit of charts and there was no danger for her among the coral reefs. He was wakened at dawn, however, to find Bob pounding on his door.
"Hey, Mart!" came the voice of his chum excitedly. "Tumble out here."
Mart growled out an unintelligible reply, but Bob resumed his pounding, so the wireless operator reflected that there must be "something doing." Hastily flinging on his clothes, he opened the door and gained the deck.
"Well, what's up, Holly? Why, it's hardly dawn yet!"
"Shut up an' come along to the bridge!" exclaimed Bob. "Dad's up there—Joe Swanson came an' roused him up just now. That's what woke me up."
"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Mart vigorously. "We ain't struck a reef, have we?"
"I'm not quite sure myself, Mart. Swanson said something about Liverpool, so mebbe he's had another scrap. I heard dad tell him to call all hands, then he was out on deck like a house afire, and I came after you."
"Much obliged, old scout," chattered Mart, for the dawn was cold. While they talked, they had been hastening forward, and now they scrambled hastily up to the bridge deck, where they found everyone but the engine-room crew assembled. Jerry Smith was at the wheel, and he wagged his head solemnly at the boys, but they were too excited to notice him.
Pushing through the crowd, they entered the chart house. Captain Hollinger was seated at the table, but merely glanced at them with a nod. Swanson and the old rheumatic seaman Borden stood before him.
"Yes, sir," the mate was saying, and Mart noticed that his burly, rugged face looked queer. "He was all right at eight bells, sir. Borden was at the wheel when the port watch came up, an' Liverpool put Birch there in his place."
"All right, Borden," returned the captain quietly. "You may go. Tell Birch to step in here."
The boys glanced at each other, pale-faced. Each was exceedingly anxious to know what had happened, but at sight of Captain Hollinger's tight-lipped mouth and drawn face, they dared ask no questions.
The one-eyed Birch came in, ducking his head respectfully.
"When did you last see Mr. Peters, Birch?" asked the captain.
"At six bells, Cap'n. Mr. Peters said he was goin' below for a drink, but he didn't come to the bridge again, sir."
"You heard nothing suspicious?"
"Nothin', sir."
"Who else was on the bridge?"
"The quartermaster, sir."
"Send him in here. You may go."
Birch left. The two boys again met each other's eyes, hardly able to believe what they had heard. Then old Jerry shuffled in.
"Quartermaster, did Birch leave the wheel about six bells?"
"No, sir—he wasn't off the bridge at all, sir."
"Hm!" Captain Hollinger leaned forward, fixing his eyes on the old seaman. "Look here, Jerry. What do you think happened to Mr. Peters? Did he meet with foul play?"
Jerry hesitated, glancing at the open door. Swanson moved forward and closed it.
"No, sir, I don't think as he did," returned Jerry slowly. "The men didn't like him, Mr. Hollinger; I will say they fair hated him, but not so bad as that, sir. Take Birch there—he's threatened Mr. Peters' life before now, sir, but that's no more'n fo'c'sle talk, sir, as you know very well. No, sir, I think that Mr. Peters went below to get a drink, as Birch said, and in some way fell overboard. Me and Birch was on the bridge, and the rest in the port watch are Kanakas."
There ensued a brisk discussion, in the course of which the horrified boys learned that some time during the night the second mate had vanished. The ship had been searched, but he was not aboard her, nor had there been any sign of struggle. Remembering the scene which they had witnessed between Peters and Birch, Mart immediately suspected the one-eyed seaman, while Swanson openly announced his belief that the second officer had met with foul play; but in no long time all such thoughts were sent flying, when the engine-room crew came up for questioning.
Two of the Kanaka stokers, both of them simple, frank-faced fellows who were above all suspicion, stated that they had come up on deck for a breath of air shortly after six bells and had seen Peters standing by the stern rail, looking down at the swirling waters as they rose from the churn of the propeller. Having no business in that part of the ship, they had gone forward again.
"I think there's no doubt of it," exclaimed the captain at last, even Swanson nodding gloomily. "Poor Peters must have either committed suicide, or else he fell overboard. Stand by for another hour, Mr. Swanson, then put the ship on her course again."
Only then did the boys become aware that the yacht was retracing her course in the vain effort to pick up her lost second mate. Later on that morning, when all hope had been given up, Bob and Mart sat in the wireless house and talked over the matter in sober earnest. As gladly as they could have suspected Birch, however, they agreed that there was no foul play involved.
"Your dad's no fool," declared Mart positively. "He sized up everything pretty square, and Swanson didn't overlook anything either. Joe is sore at Jerry for something—prob'ly suspects him of being a pirate."
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised myself," asserted Bob. "Poor Liverpool! He was a fine chap, for all his rough ways. Still, there's no doubt that Birch was innocent. I shouldn't wonder if Liverpool got moonstruck and just pitched overboard. I've heard of that happening before, Mart. Look out—there's old Jerry coming aft now."
Sure enough, Mart looked out to see the slightly stooping figure of the old quartermaster coming aft to the wireless house. Jerry entered, ducked his head in silent greeting, and said nothing for some moments. After his pipe was filled, he looked out at the ocean, glittering in the morning sun, and then turned to glance solemnly at the two boys.
"Mystery o' the sea, lads—wave after wave! Fish down below, lads, and us up above. Fish tell no tales, fish tell no tales! Poor Liverpool Peters, he's—"
"Look here, Jerry," exclaimed Mart, breaking in abruptly on the old man's talk and forcing the bleary blue eyes to meet his. "I'd like to know just how much stock to take in your talk. How long is it since you and the rest of 'em were shipmates together aboard theCoralie, eh?"
Mart fully expected that Jerry would break out into vehement denial, and might even be surprised into making some admission. Bob, also, while no little astonished at his chum's unexpected attack, nodded his support and craned forward as he watched the quartermaster.
But to their mutual disconcertion, old Jerry's face did not change, save for a slight widening of his blue eyes as they met the hard gray ones of Mart. When he replied to the question, it was with a little chuckle as of inward amusement.
"Well, well! So you lads have heard about the oldCoralie, hey? There ain't many in these seas as haven't, 'cause why, men are bound to talk. Only fish tell no tales, lads. Aye, the oldCoraliewas a sweet little schooner, she was! But that was all years ago—and now she's lyin' ninety fathom deep, lads, off the South Lyconia reef. Not very far from here, neither, where she went down."
Mart sent a blank gaze at his chum, as Jerry replaced his pipe in his mouth and gazed calmly out at the ocean. This cool reception of his bomb was dismaying to say the least; but Bob came promptly to the rescue, and more successfully.
"Why do they call you Shark Smith, Jerry?" he asked carelessly.
This time the boys scored visibly. The quartermaster's position did not change, but his bleared eyes suddenly flashed out quick and keen and bright, while his wrinkled old face lost its gently benignant expression as his firm mouth snapped shut on his pipe. This was not the first time the boys had seen that swift alteration of his features; and now it passed as quickly as it had passed before. Jerry turned slowly and looked at them, a slow smile crinkling up his eyes.
"Why, lads, ye main surprised me, ye did that! How come you to learn that old Jerry was called Shark Smith, now?"
"Oh, we heard about it," laughed Mart carelessly. "What's the reason, Jerry?"
The quartermaster chuckled again, tapped down his pipe, and replied frankly.
"Well, lads, I like both o' you, so I'll tell you. You mind me tellin' you about that there Pirate Shark, one day?"
They answered his questioning look with a nod.
"Well, when we was in the oldCoralie, tradin' among the islands and doin' a bit o' pearl-fishin' on the side, we met up wi' that there Pirate Shark. He nipped two of our men, he did, and I been chasing him ever since, lads. I'm goin' to get him, an' I'm goin' to lay him out where he won't kill no more men, lads. My mates know this and that's why they call me Shark Smith, 'cause why I've been after that there Pirate Shark for a long time. Now I'm goin' to get him this cruise."
Mart's eyes flashed suddenly. He thought he understood everything now.
"So that's why you've got that dynamite aboard!" he cried accusingly. "You lied to Captain Hollinger about that river having gold, just to get—"
"Tut, tut, lad!" Under Jerry's reproachful glance his words died away. "No, I told no lies, lad. That river has gold in it all right. I'm goin' to get the Pirate Shark, and the cap'n gets the gold concession. Ain't that fair, lads? Ain't that fair, I asks you?"
Mart looked into the reproachful blue eyes an instant, then nodded. He suddenly felt ashamed of suspecting this gentle, half-crazy old man of any wrong. It lay plain before him now—the Pirate Shark had killed two of Jerry's shipmates, years before, and ever since that time the old quartermaster had been pursuing his enemy, until it had become a fixed mania with him. After all, he did not blame old Jerry so very much, he thought.
Bob also was quite satisfied now, as appeared after Jerry had slouched away below again and the two boys talked over the matter.
"By juniper, Mart," exclaimed Bob, "I guess dad was right. We were foolish to suspect old Jerry. He's got a bug about killing that Pirate Shark, see?"
"Sure he has," agreed Mart at once. "He's a little bit touched in the head, Holly, but that's about all. Did you notice that he never budged an eyelash when I shot out theCoralieat him?"
"Uh-huh," nodded Bob thoughtfully. "So theCoraliewas just a trading schooner among the islands, eh? That straightens out things pretty well, Mart. I s'pose she was a pretty tough craft, like most of 'em were in the old days, and prob'ly she did a little pirating on the side. But just as dad says, there aren't any pirates any more. Especially on theSeamew. Believe me, we've been knocking at the wrong door."
"Looks like it to me," assented Mart. "Let's just forget the whole thing, Holly, and call it square. I guess there's no doubt that poor Liverpool fell overboard, either. But if Jerry got that dynamite put aboard to kill the Pirate Shark, I see where we're going to have some fun, Holly!"
"Say, that's right!" Bob sat up suddenly, looking at Mart. Then they both grinned.
"We'll let your dad get off after his tigers, an' when he gets back we'll have some surprising news for him, eh?"
"You bet!" agreed Bob, chortling.
But if Mart had been able to look into the future, he would hardly have greeted the prospect with such unalloyed delight. For old Jerry Smith was not quite so crazy as he was credited with being.
"Land ho!"
Early one morning the two magic words had thrilled theSeamew, and since breakfast the two boys had been perched on the upper bridge with their binoculars. They were different from the pair that had left San Francisco, weeks before; sun and salt wind had tanned them, self-confidence and energy had filled their hearts, and Mart in particular had gained an added air of resoluteness that became his strong features well.
And they had met with strange sights—unwieldy Chinese junks with matting sails, island trading schooners, slimmer craft containing natives, and even immense canoes which came from distant islands with fish and fruit to barter at sight of the yacht's smoke.
But now Asia itself lay before them—and the most uncivilized part of Asia, which nevertheless was held by the flag of England. They had passed the Redang Islands, and were now standing in for the wide river mouth which denoted their goal, Kuala Besut. On the right lay a low, palm-grown island some two miles long, which Jerry Smith declared uninhabited, as it was often awash at the rainy season. Directly ahead of them, the harbor deepened in to meet the river, and to right and left the long lagoons slowly opened out.
"By juniper!" exclaimed Bob delightedly, as the captain and Jerry joined them. "Let's you and me run over to that island some time, Mart! I'll bet we'd pick up some great old shells there!"
"That you would, lads," said the quartermaster, wagging his white hair in the breeze. "There be some fine shells hereabouts! Cap'n, we'd best not run up the river."
"Looks pretty good sized to me," returned Captain Hollinger, as he swept the harbor with his glasses. Although the river was still two miles away, they could see that it was large and apparently of good depth. "Had we better send out a boat to make soundings first, do you think?"
"No, sir—it ain't that. It's the natives, sir. They'll be off in boats as soon as they see us slip our anchor over into the mud, and I'll talk to 'em. They'll remember me, 'cause why I've been in here before, trading."
"Very well, then. You'd better go to the wheel."
Jerry shuffled to the wheel house and took the steam steering-gear in hand, his blue eyes sweeping over their course. The shores ahead and on either hand were low and thickly overgrown, but rose into hill-slopes behind. All was a tangle of dark green jungle, and as the brown river opened out before them, the boys saw that it was very sluggish and appeared to merge its waters with those of the lagoon.
The lagoon proved to be curious in this respect, for to the northeast of the river mouth, on the starboard side of the yacht, it ran far up inside the island, and its waters were here distinctly sea-green, owing to the channels beyond the island. Where the yacht was, however, and to the south, the water was of a muddy brown color, proving that the river-current tended to empty toward the southward instead of diverging generally into the entire lagoon.
Captain Hollinger had barely pointed out this fact when Jerry ordered their speed slowed down, and turned their course to the northeast. TheSeamewslowly ran into the lagoon, turned inside the island, where the green water narrowed into a half-mile stretch, and there the engines were stopped. The anchor plunged over and the cable roared out, then a leadsman forward gave their soundings.
"Six fathom, sir!"
Captain Hollinger, who had the deck, went to the chart house for his sextant. It was just noon, and he wished to log their exact position. Mart gave Bob a meaning glance and the two boys went to the wheel house, where old Jerry was leaning on the idle wheel and gazing at the shore.
"Well, Jerry," said Bob, "where's the wreck of that old galleon, eh? The one where the Pirate Shark hangs out, I mean."
Jerry chuckled, and pointed with his pipe to the northern end of the lagoon.
"Up there, lads, up there inside the channel beyond the end o' the island. Eight fathom down, she is—down there among the rocks, and us up above. Fish tell no tales, lads, fish tell no tales! Old Jerry's the only man who knows—"
"How soon will any boats come out?" asked Mart, who had resolved to bother no more about the Pirate Shark, as he had a shrewd notion that Jerry was not quite right in the head. "Will they bring fruit?"
"Aye, lads, plenty o' that. But they'll not be out for an hour or two yet, not they! Time for mess, lads—eight bells, time for mess!"
The captain got his sights, to be worked out later, and joined them. As he did so, Jerry made the request that he be given shore leave, as he might want to go ashore with any boats that came out. He had been here before on a trading trip, he said, and knew the natives in the village at the river mouth; so if he spent a day ashore he could arrange for their hunting trip and make firm friends of the Malays.
"Why, of course!" smiled Captain Hollinger, as they went down to mess. "You're a guest as far as I'm concerned, Jerry, so do as you please."
The old quartermaster nodded and no more was said on the subject. To the boys, it seemed that Jerry's desire to go ashore was a good sign. Since he was willing to trust himself alone to the natives, it showed that on his previous visit he must have made friends with them. The boys had read and heard a good deal of how the more unscrupulous trading schooners treated the natives, and they perceived at once that Jerry's previous visits must have been made in peace and good will.
Mart Judson, indeed, inclined strongly to the opinion that the white-haired old quartermaster was slightly "bughouse," as he expressed it. As to the dynamite on board, he concluded that whether the Pirate Shark was an hallucination of the old man's brain or not, the explosive might come in useful in their diving operations. He gave no credence whatever to the story of the wrecked galleon out in the lagoon "eight fathom down."
What Bob thought in the matter did not appear, for although the freckled, blue-eyed chap seemed careless enough, in reality he was cautious in giving vent to any opinion whatever. He merely grunted in reply to Mart's arguments, that afternoon, and waved a hand beyond the island, to the place Jerry had indicated.
"Six fathom here, Mart, and Jerry says it's eight up there. There's a channel to the sea, there, and rocks pointing up. The channel would be apt to cut it out deeper, and twelve feet makes a lot o' difference."
Beyond that he would say nothing at all, though indeed he got small chance, for a few moments later they made out two Malay fishing boats reaching out from the mouth of the river.
Behind them came others, approaching cautiously, and an hour later the yacht was surrounded by a dozen craft. All hands were on deck, but there was no need for any fears. When the leading boat approached cautiously, Jerry Smith stepped up on the rail, shouting something in a strange tongue, and without further hesitation the boat darted up to the ladder and gangway, which had been put over the side, with a large floating platform.
Contrary to the ideas which the boys had formed, the Malays looked anything but savages. They wore fez-like round caps, bright shirts, and sarongs or wrapped skirts of gay cloth, while all wore krisses of various patterns, and a few carried old flint-lock muskets.
"Tell them we'll let only ten at a time on deck," said Captain Hollinger to Jerry. Swanson was up forward, looking on with the men. Jerry repeated the order in Malay, and a moment later he was surrounded by a group of grinning, chattering, excited natives who plainly recognized him as an old friend.
Captain Hollinger had already ordered a case of trading goods broken out, and a few moments later the yacht was well supplied with bananas, pineapples, cocoanuts, rice and fresh fish. One of the Malays, who wore a resplendent sarong of crimson silk, Jerry introduced as the headman of the village; he was a rather dried-up looking man, but his face was intelligent and bright, and he shook hands all around in a hearty manner.
As Jerry was interpreting the captain's address to him, Mart noticed that one of the men next to him wore a kris without any sheath. Glancing at the weapon, he drew Bob's attention to it; the blade was flame-shaped, about three feet in length, and was inlaid with silver lines. Bob jerked the quartermaster's arm and pointed at the kris.
"Ask him if he'll sell it, Jerry!"
"Aye, lad, he'll sell it right enough. I'll ask him, and you get something he'd like—say, some kind o' weapon."
Bob darted off, returning with an old-fashioned Colt cap-revolver, which he had hanging on his stateroom wall as a souvenir. Mart laughed at sight of it, but to his surprise the Malay eagerly made the trade, and the kris was Bob's. Captain Hollinger examined it with some interest, and promptly made an offer through Jerry for a dozen more of the weapons, to keep as souvenirs.
"Better let that wait, sir," said the quartermaster. "It ain't best to be in too much hurry, Cap'n. When you've gone ashore, after that there huntin' trip, sir, then's the time to trade for such stuff. Wait till they know as they're goin' to lose you, and you'll get bargains."
The wisdom of this was quite evident, so Captain Hollinger nodded. Then the quartermaster turned to the headman and spoke for some moments at length, after which he announced that he was going ashore and would return to report to the captain in the morning. He said it would be necessary to consult men from other villages as to where tigers might be found, as well as to arrange for beaters and a party of hunters, but that all would be arranged that night or in the morning.
With this, Jerry went below, got some of his things together in a duffle-bag, and went over the ladder into the fishing-prau, with a farewell wave of the hand at the boys and his other shipmates. The Malays put out their long oars, shouted a farewell to which the crew responded with cheers, and the dozen boats swept back toward the river.
"Well, we've got a pretty good crew now!" laughed the captain looking around at the decks. Their duties being over for the time being, the engine-room crew had come on deck, fraternizing with their brother Kanakas, and everyone, from old Borden to Mart and Bob, was busy stowing away fresh fruit, of which the supply was bountiful.
The boys examined Bob's silver-inlaid kris, with its carven handle of bone, and it was indeed a trophy worth carrying home. At mess that evening Bob's father announced his desire to take Joe Swanson with him on his initial hunting-trip, at which the burly mate was no little astonished.
"Well," he said, with a slow grin, "I'm not much on shootin', Cap'n, but I'll be mortal glad to stretch my legs ashore. Who'll take charge o' the ship?"
"Well," smiled the captain, "I'll leave the boys in charge, with Jerry. The quartermaster is capable, and he's going to start diving operations up the river. I want to see what things are like in the jungle before I'll take the boys hunting, as it's apt to be pretty dangerous."
"I dunno, sir," and Swanson frowned, staring at his plate. "I've heard a good bit about Jerry, and I wouldn't leave him—"
"Oh, nonsense!" Captain Hollinger laughed out, and the boys remembered the mate's protest before the voyage began that Jerry was "unlucky." "I've heard about his piratical tendencies, but don't you worry, Mr. Swanson. He's all right."
The mate shrugged his shoulders heavily and said no more. That evening the boys proffered a request that they be set ashore on the island in the morning. Both were anxious to set foot on the sands, and to prowl about the place at their leisure, and as the island was clearly uninhabited, Captain Hollinger assented willingly. Mart decided to take the motion-picture machine along in order to try it out, and Bob later confided to him his intention to take along a rifle in case they saw anything to shoot at.
"Shucks, there's nothin' around here to shoot," returned Mart scornfully. "And 'specially on the island. Besides, your dad wouldn't stand for it."
"That's all right," grinned Bob. "I'll get one of those thirty-thirties out of the rack and slip her into the boat. Maybe we won't use it, and maybe we will. We might meet that Pirate Shark, you know!"
"Oh, shucks!" ejaculated Mart.
They breakfasted early the next morning, and as the captain wanted a message relayed to San Francisco, the boys sought the wireless house while Dailey and Borden and Yorke were getting a boat over the side. After some persistent efforts, Mart finally raised an answer, and after looking it up in his blue-bound book, found that it came from a Dutch steamer of the Nederland line, and promptly got rid of his messages, which would be relayed by more powerful instruments to Manila and Honolulu. During this labor, Bob slipped away, and after Mart had reported to Captain Hollinger and secured his motion-picture camera, he found his chum waiting in the boat, where Dailey and Yorke, Borden and Birch were at the oars. Waving farewell to the ship, they moved away; Bob nudged Mart and pointed to a tarpaulin under the stern.
"There she is," he said mysteriously.
"What?"
"That rifle," reported Bob, chuckling. "We're off, old scout! I wish we'd meet that Pirate Shark o' Jerry's. I guess a thirty-thirty bullet would make him sick!"
"Huh!" grunted Mart, his eyes sweeping across the sunlit waters. "No chance!"
The boys had fully intended removing their shoes and going ashore in their bare feet, but as they started to do so, the men grinned and stopped them. Yorke, with his twisted mouth leering and his gray head streaming with perspiration, lay on his oar and gave them some advice.
"Young gem'men, don't go for to do them foolish things, not in these here seas! First place, that 'ere sand on the island will be hotter'n blazes. Then if ye go wadin' around ye'll get poisoned wi' coral, or ye'll step on little crabs ye can't see, but they'll get under your skin, like; or else ye'll find animiles what'll bore little round holes in your flesh, an' them kind o' things. It ain't safe, young gem'men."
At first the boys thought he was joking, but a glance at old Borden showed that Yorke had been in earnest.
"Don't ye do it," added that soft-voiced seaman, who was so much like Jerry in his ways. "Yorke's tellin' ye true, lads. Things ain't so nice as they looks on these islands, you can take your davy to that!"
At this juncture Daily and Birch also paused to rest. The boys had desisted from their object, and Birch spoke up, his one eye flaming queerly.
"Beggin' your pardon, young sirs, but be you a-goin' to hunt tigers wi' the cap'n?" At the question all four men looked aft at the boys.
"Sure," rejoined Bob happily.
"Not right away, though," added Mart, wondering at the looks and the question. "We're goin' to see the diving first. Later on we'll go ashore after a tiger."
"Give way, there," ordered Borden quietly, but as the four oars dipped Mart caught an odd glance exchanged among the men. He wondered idly what they were thinking of, but they were close on the island now and he was too eager to be ashore to waste any time in vain speculation.
At length the boat ran up on the clean white sand, all leaped out, and she was at once pulled up. Dailey volunteered to stay with her, and the other three men started off to wander on their own account, while the two boys, arranging to be back in an hour or so, started across to the seaward side. The brief ride in the hot sun had quite cured Bob of his romantic notions regarding the rifle, which he now left in the boat, for it was a heavy weight and he had lost his desire to shoot when Mart suggested that it would only alarm those aboard the yacht.
It was ebb tide, and as they gained the opposite side of the narrow island and came out upon the long reaches of white sand, the wild delight of the boys was unrestrained. They were in a new world. Even the trees were crimson, there was no lack of wonderful but ill-smelling flowers, and among the bushes and trees fluttered butterflies of gorgeous hues. But out on the sands they forgot all this.
They found shells by the score, such shells as they had never seen, of all colors and hues. Then, in a little bay of the shore, Mart stumbled on a starfish, deep red, with rich black bosses, and Bob splashed into a pool to extricate two small but very gaudy sponges.
Then there were smaller fragments of coral, ruby red and white, and oyster shells—some brick-red, others of mixed and more gorgeous hues—while more complex shells whose names the boys could not guess lay strewn about indiscriminately with fragments of streaming seaweed. Then Bob wandered ahead, and Mart saw him turn with a cautious gesture, motioning to him.
Mart stuffed the starfish into his pocket and caught up his all but forgotten camera. When he joined Bob at one side of the little bay and looked through the bushes at the shore beyond, he understood. For there was a long stretch of mingled coral and sand exposed by the low tide, and perhaps fifty yards distant were two birds—curlews—running toward the boys with nervous, jerky motions. They were furtively picking up crabs, and Mart quickly set up his camera and focused it. But the instant he began to turn the crank, the two birds ceased their antics. With an inquiring pipe, they looked toward the slight click; then one of them desperately snatched up a crab and both flew off together.
"By golly!" exclaimed Mart. "I got 'em anyhow! Let's go see the crabs!"
They found them—big gray fellows that scuttled away or disappeared in the sand as the boys approached. Try as they would they could not catch one, and being unable to dig, they finally gave up, tired and winded.
"Say, do you like raw oysters?" exclaimed Mart, while they were resting in the hot sand.
"You bet!" returned Bob. "Why?"
"Well, look out there where that coral shows."
Perhaps twenty feet from the edge of the water protruded the low ragged edges of a coral reef, and Bob gained his feet instantly. The water inside the reef was only a few inches deep, and even from where they stood they could make out splotches against the coral that told of oysters.
Without a word Bob led the way, Mart following hastily. Getting their shoes wet mattered little, for they would dry again in five minutes of walking in the blistering sand, and when they finally stood on the coral reef they soon had torn half a dozen good-sized oysters from their perch and waded in to shore again.
"They look good," said Mart, gazing doubtfully at the tightly-closed gray-green shells. "How you goin' to open 'em?"
"With a knife," grinned Bob, pulling out his heavy pocket-knife.
He went to work, and remained at work for five minutes. At the end of that time he gazed disgustedly at his hacked knife blade and gave up in despair. Mart suggested warming the oysters over a fire.
"Good idea, Mart!" cried Bob, springing up. "We'll eat a couple, then take a mess back to dad, eh?"
They soon had a small fire of dry bush alight, and under the influence of its heat they got two or three of the oysters open. Each of the boys swallowed one—then they looked at each other blankly.
"Didn't taste right to me," declared Mart.
"Me neither. I never ate any like that in 'Frisco, by juniper!"
They unanimously decided that they would not eat any more, and before they had stamped out their fire Bob found that he wanted very much to inspect a scarlet-leaved tree a short distance back in the bush. Mart saw another tree that he wanted to look at, and after fifteen minutes had passed, two very pale and disgusted boys crawled out to the warm beach again and lay there recuperating.
"By golly, I don't want any more of those oysters," said Mart, gaining his feet after a little. Picking up the offending molluscs, he hurled them out again into the sea, and Bob grinned faintly.
"No," he agreed, "I guess Ah Sing's cooking'll do me for quite a spell. By juniper, that oyster must have gone down wrong!"
"So did mine," replied Mart, "but it come up again—right. I move we hit for the boat. I've had enough o' this, by golly! It's as Borden said; things ain't what they seem, not by a long shot!"
With that, they hit across the island for the lagoon side once more. They passed several trees which bore most attractive-looking fruits, and berry-laden bushes, but beyond pausing once or twice to consume a few feet of his reel at opportune points, Mart paid no attention. He and Bob had learned a lesson and learned it well.
By the time they emerged on the inner shore of the island, however, they were feeling perfectly recovered once more. Here the shore was flat and level, and as they looked about for the boat, it appeared a few hundred yards to their left. Dailey was lying asleep in its shadow, and out in the lagoon itself theSeamewwas swinging lazily at her cable. There was no sign of any prau bringing back Jerry Smith, and the other three men who had landed were not in sight.
"Where are the men gone?" asked Bob, as Dailey sat up at their approach. The leathery-faced seaman waved a hand toward the upper end of the island.
"They went off that way, sir. Ain't showed up yet."
"Well, let's row up and meet 'em," suggested Mart. Bob agreed at once, and all three piled into the boat as they shoved it out.
Mart and Dailey took an oar apiece, Bob reclining in the stern, and they slowly rowed up toward the far end of the island, where was a wide channel connecting the lagoon with the open sea beyond.
As they rowed, the two boys were lost in wonder at sight of the glories below them, for here the water was clear as crystal, though Dailey declared it to be a couple of fathoms deep or more. Sponges, marine fans, fish, coral, and all the under-water life lay open to them, in colors more gorgeous and magnificent than either boy had ever dreamed of. Bob declared it far ahead of the Santa Catalina sea-gardens, and Mart could hardly row for his wondering admiration; but he was finally recalled to himself by a quick exclamation from Bob.
"Hold up there, both o' you! What's that ahead?"
Mart and Dailey glanced around, and an echoing cry broke from the seaman. Fifty yards ahead of them and slowly cutting the water in their direction, was a black triangle that seemed part of some machine, so evenly and steadily did it move along. But the size of it! Mart guessed instantly that it was the dorsal fin of a shark, but he had seen no fin of such size before.
"It's the Pirate Shark, Holly!" he cried suddenly, and plunged down for the rifle. Bob stooped for it at the same instant, but Mart was too quick for him. He rose again to find Dailey looking at them, aghast.
"Where might you lads 'a' heard o' the Pirate Shark?" queried the seaman hoarsely. Mart had no time to waste on him.
"None of your business," he returned sharply. "Keep steady there—"
"You'll waste the bullet, Mart," and Bob stopped him. "It'll simply glance off the water at this angle. Hold on till we get closer!"
"Don't you do it, sir," implored Dailey, his leathery face suddenly pale. "It's the Pirate Shark, all right—don't you fire on him, sir! My word on it, Mr. Judson, it'll be a bad day for us all—"
"Oh, cut out that superstitious talk, Dailey," broke in Mart impatiently. "He's a shark, and a big one; pirate or not, if I can't get to him I'll put a bullet through that big fin of his."
"That's the idea!" exclaimed Bob. "But quit talking or we'll scare him off. Hit the fin, Mart—don't waste time tryin' to make the bullet penetrate the water unless we get up close alongside."
Mart, quivering with excitement, got a bead on that tremendous black fin which was now turning as if to proceed across their bows. It would be futile to attempt shooting the shark at such a distance, for as Bob said the bullet would simply glance from the surface of the water.
Suddenly Mart perceived that the fin was turning away from them. Instantly he sighted for its center, made sure of his bead, and fired. He saw the fin flutter wildly, then there was a great swirl of waters, and as the heavy detonation rang over the lagoon the black fin vanished amid the foam.
"Hit!" yelled Bob. "There are the men, Mart!"
Indeed, the figures of the three seaman were visible, running down the sand, and Mart waved a hand at the yacht as he sat down, for he knew that Swanson and the captain would be watching. But the greatest thought in his mind was that black fin. The Pirate Shark was a reality! They had seen its "black flag" and he had sent a bullet through it!
None of the three spoke as they pulled the heavy boat in to the beach where the men waited. As they approached, the three seamen splashed out and piled aboard, Mart taking his place again in the stern. The first question, naturally, was for the cause of the firing.
"We saw the Pirate Shark," answered Dailey. "We put a bullet through its fin."
"Huh?" one incredulous cry broke from the other three. "Who fired it?"
"Mr. Judson done it."
Three pairs of eyes swept to Mart, who laughed at the amazement of the men. "Well, why not?" he wanted to know.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Birch. "You fired on the Pirate Shark, lad? Then I'm main sorry for you, that I am!"
"Why so, Birch?" queried Bob, leaning forward and grinning.
"Because it's bad luck, young gem'man," replied Yorke soberly enough, for all his twisted mouth. "It's mortal bad luck! If you'd put a bullet in that there Pirate Shark, you'd 'a' broke old Jerry's heart, you would—"
"Oh, shut up, Yorke!" snapped Birch. "Give way, everybody! There's a boat!"
The boys turned and saw one of the native praus coming from the river toward the yacht. The superstition of the seamen affected them not at all, and Mart felt that all bans were now off, and they could tell Captain Hollinger about the Pirate Shark whenever they chose. Jerry was no doubt aboard the native boat now approaching—and Mart did not feel half so anxious to shoot tigers as he did to get after the Pirate Shark. For the Pirate Shark really existed, beyond any doubt!
"Yes, sir, Pirate Shark is what they call him, Cap'n. Thirty-footer."
"What!" Captain Hollinger stared in amazement, then laughed. "Thirty-footer? You're tangled up, Jerry. Well, he can wait until I get back."
Jerry had arrived at the yacht almost as soon as the boys reached her, and in the course of the explanations about their shooting, Mart and Bob surprised Jerry into ejaculating the title of the Pirate Shark, which called for further explanations. Thus, without having broken their promise, the boys apprised the captain of something of the story of the Pirate Shark, since Jerry reluctantly explained the name. Captain Hollinger gave the matter little attention, but not so the mate.
"Look here, Cap'n," cried Swanson, stepping out and facing Jerry aggressively. "I warned you against this here Shark Smith afore we started, didn't I? Now, I tell you he ain't here for any good, him and the rest o' his gang! Shark Smith, they call him—don't you growl at me, you white-haired old hypocrite!—'cause he's been after that 'ere shark for ten year an' more. That's what he brung you here for, Cap'n—just so's he could get at that Pirate Shark!"
Swanson flung out this accusation boldly enough, and Jerry's blue eyes blazed up at him suddenly; but the look was fleeting, and the next instant the quartermaster flung back his white hair and gazed with mild reproach on the mate.
"Deary me!" Jerry said softly, then smiled. "Why, Cap'n, Mr. Swanson's quite right, he is. I knowed that there Pirate Shark was here, an' I wanted to kill him myself, so to speak. But I've played square, Cap'n. When you gets back from your hunt, I'll have gold to show you. Can you ask more'n that, sir?"
"Not a bit, Jerry," smiled Captain Hollinger. "Come, Mr. Swanson, no more of this suspicion, if you please. Jerry will have to rank as second officer, and take the port watch for the rest of the cruise, so I want no ill feeling among my officers. Now, what about the tigers, Jerry?"
Jerry reported that all was ready, and that the beaters were already arranged for. There were tigers a day's march away, it seemed, and the chiefs were delighted that Captain Hollinger was so willing and ready to rid them of their persecutors. The sooner the hunters started, the better pleased would the natives be.
Accordingly, the captain decided that he would go ashore with Swanson that same afternoon and get acquainted, as Jerry reported that two or three of the natives could speak a little English, and that all were anxious to put themselves at his disposal. Then for the first time Jerry found that the boys were not going ashore also, and the knowledge seemed to stagger him.
"Why—why," he exclaimed blankly, "I thought as how you were going tiger hunting too, lads. I've been an' made all arrangements wi' them chiefs—"
"No, they'll have to stay here," returned the captain firmly. "I'll not take them into that jungle till I've had a look at it, Jerry. That's final. Hold that prau down there and we'll get our stuff together and go ashore in her."
Jerry, looking decidedly blank, obeyed. Mart wondered why he was so anxious to have them go ashore, and conferred with Bob on the subject, but it seemed that Jerry was only in haste to get at his Pirate Shark, and the two boys were rather amused at the situation, together with Swanson's dislike of Jerry.
To them it seemed that the old quartermaster had wanted to get rid of everyone who would interfere with his own hunting operations, and that their shot at the shark that morning had irritated him. Mart looked on it as a huge joke by this time, and Bob was evidently inclined to the same way of thinking. Jerry was evidently quite confident, however, that there was gold in the river, as his promise to the captain showed; indeed, the boys never doubted that he was acting in good faith, more especially as Jerry had now informed the captain that he intended killing the Pirate Shark.
The preparations for the trip ashore were made hurriedly, while the prau waited at the ladder and the natives traded more fruit and fish, with some fresh meat. Captain Hollinger and Swanson dressed in khaki, with sun helmets and leggings, and at the last moment one of the Scotch engineers volunteered to accompany them. So he was given an outfit also, and the three men furnished themselves with the small-bore Austrian army rifles, whose cordite bullets possessed terrific power.
Jerry said that all arrangements were made for their welfare in the village, and that tents were unnecessary as the natives could build thatch huts in half an hour while on the trip, so the impedimenta of the party was light. Canteens and cartridge belts were donned, medicine cases, mosquito nets, binoculars and blankets stowed away, and the three men shook hands with the two boys. Jerry said that the natives were even then making ready a huge barbecue in the village, which was half a mile up-river, so without pausing for noon mess the hunters departed.
They took both trading goods and money with them, in order to make payments to the natives, and when they stepped down into the prau and the Malays shoved off, the boys led the crew in three hearty cheers. Out flashed the long Malay sweeps, and with final shouts ringing over the water, the prau swiftly moved off toward the river mouth. Mart and Bob watched the three stalwart khaki-clad figures standing erect amid the brown men, and followed the prau with their glasses until it was lost around the first projection of the river bank Bob little dreamed what would transpire before he was to see his father's face again!
The officers' mess was sadly depleted that noon, only Jerry, the boys, and the Scotch engineer remaining. By this time the old quartermaster had openly announced his intention of getting after the Pirate Shark, so the boys had no hesitation in broaching the subject and asking his plans.
"Well," returned Jerry, gazing mildly at the engineer, "first off, we'll lay the yacht over that there wreck I was tellin' you lads about—you mind that wreck, lads, eight fathom down? Rock bottom it is, coral rock, down there among the fish. When we lay over her, all shipshape an' Bristol fashion, then we'll look about for that there Pirate Shark. He's down there, lads—down there among the fish, lads, eight fathom down!"
"I'll bet he ain't," interposed Mart. "Prob'ly Bob's bullet through his fin sent him out of here into the deep water. It would me!"
"Ah, but you ain't no Pirate Shark, lad!" smiled Jerry, shaking his head. "He's a cute un, he is." With that Jerry turned to the Scotch engineer, who was no little astonished at the program, of which he had known nothing. "Now, sir, I'll thank you to get the fires up a bit, as we'll need steam to move. Best keep 'em banked, as we may finish off that there shark to-morrow and run up river after gold."
"How long will dad be ashore?" asked Bob, while the dazed engineer departed to look after his fires.
Jerry chuckled. "Oh, several days, lads, several days! Now, we'll break out that dynamite an' then we'll lay her over the wreck—eight fathoms down, and old Jerry the only man as knows. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales! You come to the bridge and watch old Jerry lay us over that there wreck!"
This invitation the boys promptly accepted. The afternoon was hot, but Jerry seemed like a new man as he assumed command of the yacht, taking charge of the steam steering gear himself. As they could not get under way for some time, he set Birch to work with a few Kanakas breaking out the dynamite in the forward hold. Jerry was needed to identify the case in question, however, and soon went down to the deck for that purpose.
Now happened an incident which in some measure served to open the eyes of both boys. Among the stores broken out from the hold was a barrel of beef which had gone bad. After Jerry had identified the case containing the dynamite, he ordered the Kanakas to fling the bad beef overboard, and started back to the bridge. The Kanakas had not fully understood the order, and thinking that the case of dynamite was indicated, they cheerfully picked it up and heaved it over the rail.
Mart let out one wild yell, which was echoed by Yorke and Dailey, but nothing happened; the dynamite simply went to the bottom, the force of the shock not being sufficient to explode it. When Jerry comprehended what had happened, however, he was changed instantly from a mild, gentle-appearing old man into a raging maniac. He ran forward, his face terrible to see, and leaping into the crowd of Kanakas began striking right and left in mad fury.
The white-faced boys saw Yorke catch hold of him, but Jerry sent the twisted-mouthed man reeling with a blow; not until Dailey and Birch flung themselves on him was he quieted. Then he once more became himself, but he had been struck a hard blow; he looked ten years older, as Mart commented below his breath.
"No wonder," said Bob commiseratingly. "Poor old Jerry—he'd been counting on that dynamite to blow up the Pirate Shark, Mart. Just the same, I guess my bullet sent Mr. Shark a-kiting out to the open sea."
Jerry climbed back to the bridge, vouchsafing no comment, but still trembling and muttering to himself. Calling down the tube, he found that the engineer had enough steam up to give theSeamewsteerage way, and without further delay he ordered the anchor tripped and rang for half speed ahead.
Slowly the yacht gathered way and swung about, pointing up past the island toward the channel beyond. Beyond this, again, the lagoon continued for a quarter-mile farther, in a rounded bay where little rock-points showed their jagged teeth. As they advanced, the water became deeper, shoaled again, then grew deeper beyond the channel; at last Jerry rang for reversed engines, the cable roared out, and the engines ceased.
"Now, lads," he said, "we're over that there wreck. Let's have a look."
They followed him eagerly enough to the deck, where already the crew were looking over the bulwarks. The water was wonderfully clear, but as it was forty feet deep here, they could make out nothing of the bottom. Just under their ladder and gangway, however, the quartermaster pointed out a deeper shadow of green, which he declared showed the position of the wreck.
"We'll send down a Kanaka in the morning," he said. "And if that there ain't the old wreck, lads, then Jerry Smith is a Dutchman!"
"But what about the shark?" objected Bob stoutly. "You aren't going to send down any men there, Jerry, with that shark hanging around. Not if I know it!"
"Well, them Kanakas lost my dynamite, didn't they?" snarled Jerry suddenly, his face sweeping into quick anger.
"That's no matter," rejoined Mart. "You needn't think we'll stand for any men going down—"
"Look ye here, lads," and Jerry faced them solemnly. "Them Kanakas ain't like us white men, d'ye see? First, they ain't afraid o' sharks. They take knives down an' kill sharks for fun, like your father kills tigers. Then they swim like fish themselves, lads. If the sea hadn't spoiled that there dynamite, they'd 'a' brought it up as quick as it went down."
"Maybe you're right," answered Bob, "but there's something about this whole business that I don't like, Jerry. That's flat. You deceived dad by not telling him about this Pirate Shark till we'd got here, and you haven't told him about the wreck yet. All I can say is, you'd better play square, Jerry. When it comes to sending down any o' those Kanakas to investigate your private troubles, and risking their lives, I'm not going to stand for it."
Jerry smiled softly, and gazed out at the sparkling waters of the lagoon.
"Lads, I'm in command o' this here ship," he said quietly. "You've got nothin' to say aboard her, by rule o' the sea. But old Jerry ain't that kind, lads—no, he likes ye both too much for that. Look here, Master Bob, we'll not send down any men but them as volunteers to go, eh? If they want to go, all right; if they don't, why, all right too! Ain't that fair, now? Ain't it?"
Bob glanced at Mart, who made answer.
"Yes, that's fair enough, Jerry. I'll tell the Kanakas myself about that Pirate Shark, and if they choose to go down after that, it's their affair. I don't think he's around here, myself; but in case that bullet didn't send him out to sea with a hole in his fin, and if he really is the Pirate Shark, we'll have to wait till the captain gets back, unless the men are perfectly willing to take the risk. You can order Dailey or Yorke to go down if you like."
At this last suggestion Jerry merely darted them a sharp look, and chuckled.
"All right, lads, all right! We'll see in the mornin', lads. Eight fathom down she is, and fish tell no tales."
That night the boys discussed the situation with growing belief that Jerry was not quite so silly as he appeared. The sight of that immense black fin had established the fact that there was at least an enormous shark here; whether the wreck was also a fact or not was quite another thing.
There might be a wreck there, indeed, and there was no good reason to doubt it. Jerry's tale about its being an ancient galleon, however, was much too improbable to be accepted. However, the diving gear was overhauled that evening, and the boys looked forward eagerly to what was to happen next day.
"I s'pose dad's watching a native dance or something about now," remarked Bob as the boys made ready to turn in. "Well, we'll be after tigers ourselves in a few days, Mart."
"Mebbe," rejoined Mart. "Wish, we hadn't eaten those oysters this morning! I haven't felt right since. Well, so long, Holly! See you to-morrow."
And if Mart felt any premonitions, he ascribed them to the oyster.