by Van Powell
CHAPTER XIII THE MYSTERY BOYS DECIDE
“What do you wonder?” asked Tom, when the chums were herded into thesmall forecastle in the bow, vacant at the moment.
“The man who owned that boat, back in Jamaica—the _El Libertad_—wasnamed Senor Ortiga,” Nicky answered. “I wonder if this one is the samefellow.”
“But this isn’t the _Libertad_,” Tom objected. “It’s a bigger boat andit isn’t white.”
“And that fellow called this man ‘Don’ and not ‘Senor,’” Cliff added.“They may be relatives. Mr. Neale saw the man in Jamaica—he would know.I wonder where he is!”
As he expressed this wondering about their chief, the latter was holdinga conference with a Government Revenue Officer in the tiny cabin of avery swift little revenue cutter which was cruising among the reefs andkeys, in search of the very hi-jackers and rum-runners among whom thechums were quartered.
The revenue cutter was on patrol duty, but so far its quarry had, byvirtue of a system of signals from allies on shore, eluded capture; withits gray hull, its absence of lights, its quiet and speedy engines, thelight-draught craft had been able to slip into hiding while its cargowas transferred to shore, whence the Indians in the extensive gang wouldconvey it in their canoes to a northern point in Florida where truckscould receive the cases of illicit liquor.
“I wish there was some way for us to capture these fellows,” said Tom.Now that he knew that there was nothing ghostly or unnatural about theband, he was his usual, cool, calm self. Nicky and Cliff echoed hiswish, in low tones. But they had no time for speculation or planning.The ape-like man appeared in the forecastle companionway and beckonedabruptly.
They followed him along a narrow deck to the dark cabin and went in.After passing through heavy sacking, double-thick, which served to blockthe passage of the least rays of light to the outer world, they foundthemselves in a long, quite roomy cabin, with a small electric domelight giving enough light to show the heavy black curtains tightlyfastened over the circular ports, or windows. Well furnished withseveral easy chairs of rattan, with bunks that folded into the woodworkof the side walls and left a cushioned seat for use when they were notopen, and with a veritable arsenal of automatic revolvers, rifles andknives of many shapes on the shelves of a cupboard at one end, the cabinlooked both comfortable and dangerous.
A tall, slender man was replacing some weapon in the cupboard.
He turned as the chums entered; their guide stood blocking the doorwaybehind them.
The occupant of the cabin was of a Spanish type, with dark skin andsharp, black eyes, as black as his smoothly brushed hair. His movementswere abrupt and nervous and his voice, when he spoke was curt and ratherhigh in pitch, though kept at a low level of volume.
“Sit!” said the tall man, motioning toward the wall benches; the chumsobeyed while the tall one dropped into a rattan chair and regarded themsteadily.
“You came here to get buried treasure,” said the man in the chair. “Whotold you there was treasure here?”
Nicky became the spokesman and related the story; he told how they hadbeen cruising toward the Ten Thousand Island Archipelago.
“For why?” demanded their inquisitor sharply.
Nicky was about to open his lips; his eye caught a gesture of Tom’s.While leaning forward, chin on hand, elbow on knee, as if listeningalertly, Tom was scratching his left ear absently. Cliff was folding hisarms.
It was the secret sign-manual of their order—the Mystery Boys—by whichTom signified a call for a communication by gesture and Cliff, byfolding his arms, indicated his agreement. Nicky folded his arms at thesame instant, and then saw Tom grasp his coat lapel in his left hand.
That sign meant the third section of their secret oath—“Telling all, Itell nothing!”
Nicky clasped his hands on his knees, a sign that he agreed.
It all took place without apparent meaning and in a very brief time sothat, although he made a sign of impatience, the tall man and hiscompanion, leaning against the wall by the companionway, seemed todiscern no hidden meaning in Nicky’s delayed answer.
“Come! Answer! Why were you among the islands?”
“I was trying to figure out why we were there,” Nicky replied, a candidlook on his face. “You see, we had the ‘flu’ back at our school and wewent to Jamaica to join this boy’s father—” he made a gesture towardCliff and continued. “A young fellow was helping Cliff’s father collectold relics of the Indians and he brought us up to those islands in asloop with a colored pilot—just for a lark on our part. I think he meantto get a canoe and maybe take us with him up the Harney River to theedge of the Everglades—or into them, to collect some things from theSeminoles.”
That was a part of Mr. Neale’s plan, if they did not find the treasure,or, perhaps, even if they did; so Nicky told the truth, though not allof it. Cliff unclasped his hands as if signifying that Nicky had donewell.
“Si—yes, that is reasonable,” commented the tall man. “What then?”
Tom made no gesture, which Nicky correctly judged to mean that as longas he had told the man by the companionway about the can and theparchment he might as well repeat the story.
He did.
“Does that agree, Tew, with what they told you?”
At the name, Tew, Nicky started a little. In the early days of piracy,as his studies had told him, one of the most notorious of the old seabarons, Thomas Tew, had made piratical history; could this man be adescendant? Could he be filled with the same daring and ferocity?
“It agrees, cap’n,” responded Tew. Don Ortiga leaned back, tapping thearm of his chair nervously while he thought.
The chums sat in silence, their three pairs of arms folded in sign thatthey were still in secret communion and waiting. After a long silenceduring which he considered them shrewdly, the Spaniard spoke.
“I do not believe it! Do you, Tew?”
“Sounds ‘fishy’ to me,” answered the apelike fellow. “First of all, themthree trees on that little key ain’t more’n fifty years old. And myfolks, and Nelse’s folks, has lived about these waters for more time’nthat and there ain’t been no treasure buried that I ever heard of—not inthe last fifty years!”
“So! Again, Tew,” the Don ignored his young captives in the intentnessof some point he was trying to make, “again, a tin can would have rustedaway and crumbled, or sank into the soil. You know that most of thoseislets are not really built up from the coral foundation. They aremostly thickly matted vegetation, roots and so on, with a thin coveringof soil; if you stamp hard on many of them you can shake them.”
“I know that,” agreed Tew. “Besides, from what these fellows claim,there was a funny light and something knocked on their boat—if you wasto ask my opinion, cap’n, I’d say I think these lubbers is makin’ it upout o’ the whole cloth!”
“We are not!” defended Nicky sharply.
Don Ortiga regarded him steadily for a while, then nodded.
“What was the message on the paper?” he asked suddenly.
There was no help for it. All three chums realized that. If Nickyhesitated their captors would be certain that he was inventing amessage. Then there was no telling what might happen to them! The menwho had them as captives were hi-jackers, the lowest form of seafaringmarauders. One of them had a name indicating descent from the old piratestock. The truth—and the truth quickly—seemed to be the only course opento Nicky.
His glance toward his friends showed them with both hands in coatpockets—“Tell the truth!” that meant.
“This is the message,” Nicky declared without delay, all that swiftquerying and decision having occupied only the time it took for him tounderstand the question, a split second.
“This is the message,” he declared, “‘Treasure found long ago. Dig undertallest of three trees on Crocodile Key for more.’”
Tew rushed close to his captain.
“Crocodile Key!” he almost shou
ted; then he lowered his voice. “Nobodyknew that name but us—” he stopped, his face working with what the chumstook to be anger and surprise.
“Yes—yes—somebody did!” he gasped. “Cap’n—your brother——”
Nicky exchanged glances with his comrades. In their eyes he read thesame thought that was in his mind. They had given these men some cluethat proved to them that the message was a false lead and—more—had toldthem who prepared it! Don Ortiga had a brother. That must be the SenorOrtiga—or might be, Nicky thought. If the message was a false lead, thenit had been deliberately placed where they found it, to mislead them.Yes, and not only that, but deliberate methods of making it seemsupernaturally discovered had been used—the light and the raps on thehull of their sloop!
“Yes,” Don Ortiga was saying, “my brother—Rodriguez—these boys say theywere in Jamaica—that is where he gets the rum he brings to the keys in_El Libertad_.”
The whole mystery was beginning to become as clear to the chums as itseemed to their captors.
“These fellows say they left Jamaica to go to the archipelago,” Tew tookup the reasoning. “For pleasure? For relics? My eye! No! They knowedsomewhat about a treasure—and so did your brother.”
“But he didn’t—” Nicky cried incautiously in his excitement, and thenstopped, too late.
“There was a treasure!” Tew exulted, and his eyes took on a brightavaricious glitter. “Cap’n, these boys know somewhat about a treasure onthem islands. Recall? Ships has been wrecked there—in the old days therewas a story about a Spanish——”
“I know,” broke in the Don, bending forward, making jerky, excitedmovements of his fingers and with snapping eyes. “A ship laden with goldbars! It was never discovered—the gold! The ship broke up, and parts ofit were picked up in the Gulf of Mexico.”
In spite of themselves, at this verification of the old map and messageof Captain Kidd, the chums took fire from their companions.
“Senor Ortiga must have knowed about it—or learned that these lads did,”Tew went on, never questioning the chums, taking it for granted that hislogic was sound. “He must of saw them sail in a slow sloop—he had a fastcruiser. He beat them to the islands and took a chance he could sendthem somewhere else while he searched. He picked our place—But why?They’d discover us. He’d know that!”
Don Ortiga sprang from his chair; his hands were clenched, his eyessparkled with an angry light.
“He sent them here because he has a grudge for us ever since we bought afaster boat and a bigger one and took his trade away from him!” he criedin a fury, but remembering to keep his tones fairly low.
“Well,” began Tew, after a moment, “here’s how I tote it up! We can getmore out of a chest of treasure than we can from a hold full of rum, andwith no fightin’. These lads must know where the gold is—we don’t! So wecan use them! At the same time we can get revenge on your brother forsendin’ them where they might of found out about our racket and told therevenue men——”
The chums saw what was coming; their arms were folded again and theywere waiting, trembling a little with the excitement. What decision mustthey make? What decision could they make? Was there any way out? Theycould see none!
“Put it up to ’em!” urged Tew. “Will you ‘throw in’ with us, takin’ asmall share, or will we put them in the hold till we get what theyknow—we have ways!” he added with a meaning glare, “and when we get thetreasure we’ll—well, whatever you decide, Cap’n—I know you can think upsome pretty interestin’ ways to get rid of folks we don’t need——”
Nicky made a gesture; his right hand rubbed his nose, from his eye tohis lips, as if removing a smudge; Cliff and Tom answered his sign,“Shall we say ‘yes’?” by nodding.
“What’s your say?” demanded Ortiga. “Tell all or——”
Nicky stood up.
“Share-and-share-alike!” he demanded with a defiant effort that seemedto please Tew. Don Ortiga nodded, “Share-and-share!”
“Deal out our cutlasses an’ bandanas,” said Nicky with affectedferocity. “We’re with you till the last man walks the plank!”