by Ross Kay
CHAPTER IV
A CODE
The breeze held strongly and the _Josephine_ made splendidprogress. The life on shipboard had endless attractions for the fouryoung boys. They learned the parts of the ship, the names of the sailsand how to navigate. Sailors taught them to splice ropes and how to tiethe hundred and one knots familiar to those who follow the sea. Theweather was ideal and as everything went well, all on board were inexcellent spirits.
"I guess Sam was wrong about this hard luck business," remarked JohnClemens one day to Grant Jones. The two boys were standing near the bowof the brig, watching two of Mother Carey's chickens, those friendlylittle birds that follow and play around boats even out in the middle ofthe ocean.
"It certainly looks so, String," said Grant. "We can't hold much againstthe Finn so far, can we?"
"I should say not. Let's hope it keeps up."
"I don't see how it can," said Grant. "So far it has been almost toogood to be true, and I don't see how it can last."
"I think it will though."
"Sam says not. He says that maybe we have escaped so far but he stillinsists we're going to have something happen to us before we'rethrough."
"He's cheerful, isn't he?" laughed John. "I'm not worrying though."
"Mr. Johnson says that we're almost bound to strike bad weather when weget into the gulf-stream."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know except for what he said. He says that sometimes you cansee the low banks of clouds over the gulf-stream and that you may runfrom a clear sky and light wind, with all sail, into a heavy sea andcloudy sky where you'll need double reefs."
"Isn't that queer," exclaimed John. "I wonder when we'll reach it."
"Fairly soon, I should say," said Grant. "We must be getting pretty farsouth by now."
"We are. Captain Dodge told me we'd be in the West Indies before long."
"I wish we could stop."
"You want to see everything," laughed John. "We're going to SouthAmerica, aren't we? What more do you want?"
At that moment Fred and George Sanders approached the two boys.
"We ought to be Sons of Neptune in a few days," exclaimed George gaylyas he and Fred came up to the place where their two friends werestanding.
"What do you mean by that, Pop?" asked John curiously.
"Just what I say, String, my boy," said George. "You don't mean to tellme that you don't know what a Son of Neptune is! Every man that sailsany of the seven seas ought to know that."
"Don't be funny, Pop," warned John, assuming a threatening attitude."Tell me what it means and be quick about it."
"You swear you don't know?"
"You heard what I said, didn't you?"
"Yes," grinned Pop, "but you know I don't believe half what you say."
"Throw him overboard, String," urged Fred. "Don't fool with him anylonger."
"That's just about what I had decided to do," said John.
"Wait," cried Pop, stepping forward and holding up his handdramatically. "Spare my life and I will tell all."
"Be quick about it then," warned John. "I shan't fool with you muchlonger."
"I know it," said Pop, pretending to be greatly alarmed. "I know it,String, and I must say I am awfully frightened."
John stepped forward and raised his hands as if he was about to seizeGeorge W. Sanders by the neck. He had no opportunity to do so, however.
"I'll tell. I'll tell," cried Pop quickly.
"I'll give you till I count three," said John. "One, two--"
"A man becomes a Son of Neptune," said George, "when he has crossed theequator on a boat. Now will you promise not to hurt me? Not that youcould do it if you tried," he added, but he muttered the words so softlyto himself that no one else heard him.
"Is that what a Son of Neptune is?" exclaimed John.
"Yes, String, that's what a Son of Neptune is," said George, imitatingas nearly as possible his friend's tone of voice.
"Who told you?" demanded Grant.
"What has that got to do with it?"
"Who told you?" repeated Grant sharply. "We'll have to take some of thisfreshness out of him pretty soon, String," he added.
"We surely will," agreed John readily. "I'm ready at any time."
The four friends loved to tease and banter one another and oftentimes anoutsider might have thought from their conversation that they had losttheir tempers. Such, however, was never the case. They knew one anothertoo well and all had too much sense for any such foolishness. Inparticular they all liked to tease and threaten Pop Sanders, though inany contest of wits he usually held his own and the threats of hiscomrades had no effect upon him whatever.
"For the third and last time, who told you?" demanded Grant.
"Petersen told me."
"You've been talking to the Finn, have you?" exclaimed Fred.
"Yes, and he's a nice fellow, too."
"Maybe you'll get his hard luck away from him," laughed Grant.
"I guess he's had hard luck himself all right," said Pop seriously."That doesn't mean he'll give it to others though."
"What hard luck has he had?" asked John.
"Well, his father died when he was a baby and he was left with a bigfamily of children to be brought up by his mother. She had no money andof course had an awfully hard time of it. Two of his sisters died ofscarlet fever, a younger brother was drowned and finally his mother gotpneumonia and she died. I call that pretty tough luck myself."
"So do I," agreed Grant readily.
"If Sam heard all those things he'd surely say it was because it was afamily of Finns," said Fred. "He'd say they brought hard luck to oneanother."
"He probably would," laughed Pop. "Still I feel sorry for a fellow whohas had all that trouble."
"What did his father do?" asked John.
"He was a bad character principally, I guess," said Pop. "He was also asailor at times."
"You must have had quite a long talk with Petersen, Pop," said Grant."How did he happen to get so confidential?"
"I don't know. We just got talking, that's all, and the first thing Iknew he began to tell me the story of his life."
"His father left the family no money, I imagine," said Fred.
"Certainly not. He left debts. The only thing he left was a badreputation and this thing which Petersen gave to me," and as he spokePop reached in his hip pocket and brought out what appeared to be adirty piece of old paper, folded up.
"What's that?" demanded Grant quickly.
"I don't know," said George. "See for yourself."
He handed the object in question to Grant who straightway unfolded itand glanced at it eagerly.
"It's nothing but a lot of numbers," he exclaimed disappointedly.
"I know it," said George. "Just a lot of old faded numbers written on apiece of parchment."
"What's it supposed to be?" asked John curiously.
"Petersen thinks it's some sort of a code. Maybe it is but I thinkmyself it is nothing at all, and that it might as well be thrownoverboard."
"What makes him think it's a code?" said Grant.
"Nothing much that I know of," replied Pop. "He said it was found sewedinside the lining of a coat his father used to have and so he thought itmust be valuable. He said that the neighbors used to tell some kind ofweird stories about his father having been connected with buriedtreasure or something like that, and he is sure this has something to dowith it. Personally I think he is mistaken about it."
"If he thinks it so valuable why did he give it to you?" demanded Fred.
"He didn't really give it to me to keep. He wanted me to try anddecipher the code and tell him what it says."
"Did you do it?" laughed John.
"No, you Son of Neptune," exclaimed George. "I did not. I offered toread the numbers to him, but he said he could do that much himself."
"Where's this treasure buried?" asked Fred.
"That's just what Petersen wants to find out," said Pop. "That certainlywas an awful
ly smart question to ask, Fred."
"I thought he might know the island or whatever it is where the stuff issupposed to be buried, but not the exact location of the jewels on theisland."
"How do you know it's jewels?"
"It always is, isn't it?"
"I don't know anything about it," said Pop. "For all we know Petersenmay be playing a joke on us. We're all landlubbers of course and thecrew might have decided to initiate us a little."
"Perhaps," agreed John. "The parchment looks old though."
"What are the numbers, Grant?" asked Fred. "Read them out."
"Twenty," began Grant when he was interrupted.
"Add 'em up, you fellows," laughed George. "The total tells how old Anneis."
"Let him read them, Pop," urged John. "Give him a chance."
"Twenty, one, eleven, five, one, three, fifteen, twenty-one, eighteen,nineteen, five." Grant paused. "That's a funny thing" he said. "Everynumber is distinctly separated from the next one. It certainly seems asif it must mean something."
"All right, I'll tell Petersen that you are going to solve the mystery,Socrates, my boy," laughed Pop. "Shall I?"
Before Grant could answer there was a shout. A few sharp orders weregiven and immediately everything on board the _Josephine_ wasbustle and hurry. The crew came rushing out on deck, and scatteredhither and thither all over the brig in obedience to the orders thatwere being given so rapidly. An anxious look was on the faces of all themen.