by Unknown
"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 was doing newspaper work on the Herald. 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 down the 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. The Argos was 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 the Argos. 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 the wharf. 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 X
ANOTHER 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 the Argos forward.
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 hand in 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 the game 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 far as 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 approaches you 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 sleuthing again. 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.