There was nothing else in the box except a handful of small bones.
"I think," Tony said grimly, "that our friend Adan was a practical joker."
Just then, the earth shook again and some of the dirt they had removed dropped on the grinning skull.
For Chico, it was the last straw of the unnerving night. He fell back, choking, and began to gibber hysterically as he turned to run. Tony grabbed his arm and shook
him roughly until the babbling subsided into half sobs.
"Don't be a fool," Tony said curtly. "Sit down over there and keep quiet, while Pedro and I cover this up. We can't leave it like this."
Chico, too unmanned to have a mind of his own, obeyed him. Tony and Peter pushed back the earth which they had excavated with such pains.
As he silently shoveled damp dirt into the hole, it seemed to Tony that he was covering up his last hope.
He tried to tell himself that he had known all along that there wouldn't be anything. But it wasn't true. Toward the end he had really believed. And the disappointment now was crushing.
"Tony, I'm sorry." They were the first words Peter had uttered since they found the skull, and his voice was uneven.
Tony nodded without speaking. He hardly knew whether it was sweat or tears that ran down his face as they pushed some brush over the filled-in excavation and then started wearily back along the cruel trail beside the lagoon.
Aboard the Albacora
"Pedro, the more i think about it," Tony said slowly, "the more absolutely certain I am that we didn't find just the right spot—or the right treasure chest."
It was three days after the disastrous treasure hunt and the two boys were sitting on the edge of the dock, with their legs hanging over. They had fishing lines in their hands but they were much more interested in their private counsel of war than they were in the small bait fish they were catching.
Peter looked at Tony rather anxiously. "You're not letting this thing get you, are you, Tony? I mean—" He hesitated. "It can get to be a kind of fever, you know, like hunting for gold mines. People get delusions—you know what I mean?"
Tony put his hand on Peter's shoulder in reassurance. "Yes, I know what you mean. I thought it was something like that with Chico, at first. It can get to be a kind of madness. But it isn't that, with me. I've been thinking hard about this whole thing, the last three days."
He pulled in a small fish and threw it on the dock. Peter waited, still looking doubtful.
144
"Did you feel that?" Tony asked suddenly. "Another tremor. They keep on and on!"
Acapulco had been shaken by several small quakes since the big one the night the boys were digging in Puerto Marques. Most of the tremors were very small, but they were driving some of the tourists away and were getting to be nerve-racking to the townspeople. Even Uncle Juan, always so cool and composed, had seemed jumpy and paler than usual, lately.
"Never mind the tremor," Peter said impatiently. "What have you been thinking these last three days?"
"That we were foolish to give up so easily. You see, Pedro, you didn't know Adan. I did. What I said that night—about his being a practical joker—was just because I was disappointed. He wasn't that kind of person at all. He was an honest, serious, kindly old man. He wouldn't have given that map to Chico unless he'd really thought there was treasure there. We've got to try again, Pedro! I have a feeling—a very strong feeling—that we'll find something the next time!"
"Well, I'm sure willing." Peter's eyes sparkled. "When do we go? Tonight?"
"No. We've got to wait." Tony sighed. "I haven't told you yet what I was doing yesterday—when you came to the house and I wasn't there."
"No, you were very secretive about it." Peter's voice was a little hurt.
"Well, I'll tell you now. I went to Puerto Marques by bus and looked up a boy I know. Armando, his name is. He used to live here in Acapulco and I knew him pretty well. He's the only person in Puerto Marques I can trust
to really keep our secret. He told me they've set a round-the-clock guard on Adan's property. They must have found out we were there—though I was sure we'd covered that hole up too well for anybody to notice it."
Peter's face fell. "Then how are we going to do it?"
"They won't keep that up very long," Tony said confidently. "I know those people. They're lazy. If nothing happens for a few nights, they'll forget all about the guard."
"How are we going to know?"
"Armando's going to watch for us. When they take the guard off, he'll let us know. I've promised him a percentage of whatever we find."
"And Chico?"
Tony shrugged. "He was so scared the other night that he doesn't want anything more to do with it. He's still sick from the fright he got."
The two boys were silent for a few minutes, thinking.
Then Tony said, "I still feel kind of guilty about this whole deal, Pedro. I'm sure Uncle Juan wouldn't like it, if he knew about it. But there are only three weeks left before the family goes. I've got to get that money before then. I doubt if they'll watch that property even a week. We'll just have to take the chance—and wait."
Peter nodded. "I wish—" he began.
But Tony motioned him to silence. A heavy-set man had come up behind them. They looked up.
"You're Tony Castillo, aren't you?" the man asked.
"Yes, Captain Ruiz." Tony got to his feet. "At your service."
"I see you know me." The captain smiled.
"Everyone knows the captain of the Alhacora, sir." Tony's admiring eyes found the big fishing cruiser which was moored a Uttle distance away down the docks. "She's my favorite boat."
"Well, that's good. How would you like to be mate on her for a couple of weeks? My regular mate went on a business trip to Chilpancingo."
"I'd like it fine!" Tony's eyes were bright. "How did you—I mean, who—?"
"I happened to mention to Julio, on Caletilla Beach, that I was looking for a temporary mate. He said you were doing odd jobs until you moved to Mexico with your folks."
"Julio is a good friend," Tony said gratefully.
"He recommended you highly," Captain Ruiz answered. "My mate gets twenty-five per cent of the day's receipts. But we don't go out every day, of coinrse. Is that all right with you? Sure.
"Very well. I'll expect you on the Alhacora tomorrow morning, about seven. We already have a passenger for tomorrow."
"I'll be there. Captain! Thanks!"
When the man was gone, Tony sat down on the dock again, looking much happier than he had looked for the last three days.
"What a stroke of luck!" he breathed. "Julio is a friend. The Alhacora is first class and gets top prices. If this had happened a couple of months ago, I'd probably have been able to earn the whole amount, by this time."
"It's silly to figure like that," Peter pointed out, in his
common-sense way. "If the captain has a regular mate, you couldn't have. Might as well wish you'd found a fortune in the street. But anyhow, you'll be making some money while we wait for this Puerto Marques thing. And it'll be fun," he added enviously. "Wish I could go out with you."
"After I've been working a day or two, I'll see if I can get the captain to take you sometimes," Tony promised. "And meantime I'll let Armando know he's to get in touch with you, if I'm not home. Or maybe he could paddle out to the mouth of Puerto Marques bay and give me a signal on the Alhacora. Pedro, I have a feeling that everything is going to work out, after all! Being offered this job right now seems like a good sign!"
"Tony, how would you like to get up here on the flying bridge and see if you can spot a sailfish for Mr. Sutton? I've stared so long my eyes are watering!"
"Si, Capitdn, con mucho gusto!"
Passing Peter, who was in the cabin uncapping a Coca-Cola for Mrs. Sutton, Tony said, "You having fun, Pedro? How do you like being a deck hand?"
Peter looked around to see that no one was listening, and answered in a low voice, "I love it, Tony! Bu
t I'm getting worried—about time."
"You and me, too! But our chance will come soon, Pedro."
The words echoed in his head as he stationed himself at the controls on the flying bridge and began scanning the too-quiet waters for sign of an emerging sailfish tail or a dark shadow.
He had decided, now, to make the chance come soon. He was tired of waiting.
Two whole weeks had passed since the first treasure hunt. Armando had reported faithfully, always with the same bad news that the guard on the Puerto Marques property had not been relaxed. One evening Tony had risked going over to confirm the fact for himself. Time was getting short now, and he was more and more concerned, although he tried to forget it during his working hours.
He loved the job on the Albacora and he did it with conscientious thoroughness; taking his turn at the wheel, searching the waters for big fish, baiting the hooks, and in general keeping the fishing clients happy.
He found that he enjoyed working with tourists when there were only two or three of them, all intent on catching fish. It wasn't at all like the glass-bottomed boat venture, when he'd had to make speeches to an audience and put on a rehearsed act. Besides, there was no belligerent Lencho to contend with here. Tony sincerely liked Captain Ruiz and was doubly grateful to him when he good-naturedly allowed Peter to go with them sometimes.
Tony hadn't told Peter yet that he had made up his mind that if nothing happened within the next forty-eight hours, he was going to try somehow to get around that guard himself and do some more digging.
He hated to have Peter involved in a second expedition—which might be even more dangerous than the first one. Yet he didn't see how he could keep it from him, either. Peter was the most loyal friend he had ever had,
sticking to him through everything. And Peter would be brokenhearted if he were not allowed to take part in the second treasure hunt—the treasure hunt that would solve all Tony's problems, or end all hope. . . .
"Strangest looking water I've ever seen!"
Tony turned, startled from his worrying thoughts, to see the captain standing behind him, frowning down at the lacquer-smooth sea.
"In the twenty years I've been in the fishing business, I've never seen the water so quiet this far out. Nor the air so still, at this time of day. What do you make of it, Tony?"
"I don't know, sir. It is strange. Almost like the calm before a hurricane. But we wouldn't be having a hurricane in January!"
"Not likely." The captain's voice was thoughtful. "But it probably has something to do with the earthquakes. I'll confess I don't like it!"
"There certainly have been a lot of temblores," Tony agreed.
"Over a hundred in the last two weeks, the papers report," the captain said grimly. "Of course, most of them have been quite small. Nothing like that jolt fourteen days ago."
Tony was silent, thinking of that long tremor that had frightened off Lencho and his pals. It had been lucky for him that it had happened just then! Nevertheless he, too, wished the small quakes would let up.
"I'd hke to go back to port right now," the captain said uneasily. "Partly because of this strange-looking sea, and partly because my wife hasn't been at all well.
the last couple of days. But these Suttons are such nice people, and they want a sailfish so bad, I hate to cut the trip short."
Tony nodded. He hated to disappoint the Suttons, too. They were the nicest of all the passengers the Albacora had taken fishing in the last two weeks. This was their third trip without even a strike, and although they were cheerful and uncomplaining, they did have their hearts set on catching a big fish.
"Let's try for a little while longer," Tony suggested. "Maybe they'll get one quickly and then we can go back."
"All right, boy. Keep a sharp lookout. Your eyes are younger than mine and they can see farther."
Continuing his watch alone, after the captain had returned to the cabin, Tony thought how fine it would be to work for Ruiz if the treasure hunt yielded enough money to satisfy his uncle, and if the captain didn't already have a regular mate, and if—
Just at that moment he saw it! An enormous black shadow, not far astern.
"It's a big one!" he yelled down, his skin prickling with excitement and his own worries temporarily forgotten. "Behind yotu bait, Mr. Sutton! Drop your line back! Give him more line!"
The American tensed as he saw the fish strike the moving bait with its bill, and he released enough line to make the big fish think it had stunned its prey. But this fish was wary. It followed the bait for several seconds before it struck again, viciously, knocking the fine out of the clothespin on the outrigger.
"Be careful!" Tony called, hardly daring to breathe.
"Wait!" A few seconds later he shouted joyously, "He took it right in! Hook him now—hard! It's a marlin—a. whopping marhn!"
The captain leaped up the ladder. "I'll take over, Tony. You go down and give him some pointers—if he needs them. Your English is better than mine when I get excited!"
Tony jumped into the cockpit, not bothering with the ladder.
"Put the reel on free-spool and let him have lots of line," he cautioned the American. "This is an awfully big fish for the size tackle you're using, and if the hne is tight, it'll break."
Feeling the tension of the hook now, the marUn took off like a streak of lightning. Some distance away it suddenly erupted like Mount Vesuvius, leaping wildly into the air, twisting, writhing and throwing spray as it fell. It was a spectacular and thrilling sight in the afternoon sun.
"The camera, Beth, the camera!" shouted Mr. Sutton.
But before his wife could get the camera in focus, the fish went down. It raced underwater for some distance, to come up far astern and begin jumping toward the boat, two thirds of its great silver-purple body out of the water, leaving a wake of foam behind it.
Tony heard Mrs. Sutton click the camera several times, but he wasn't looking at her. His attention was divided between the acrobatic fish and the reel in Mr. Sutton's hands.
The fish submerged again, then came up, leaping
several feet out of the water. The ghttering head shook savagely before it fell back with a resounding crash.
"Man, oh, man, just look at that blue dynamite!" Peter whispered in awe, to nobody in particular.
"It's the biggest marlin I ever saw!" Tony breathed. "A lot bigger than the one Mr. Williams brought in."
Suddenly the fish began to skitter on its tail toward the boat and Mr. Sutton reeled in madly. The captain speeded the motor, to help keep the line taut. Then the marlin raced away at right angles. Finally it bored straight down again, taking practically all the line off the reel.
Mr. Sutton fought valiantly, his eyes bright, his face streaming perspiration. Mrs. Sutton was busy taking pictures. Peter, too, was getting in some shots with the captain's camera, now that he had recovered a little from his first excitement.
"I believe that marlin is over four hundred pounds," the captain called down with satisfaction. "Might set the season's record—if you bring it in."
The caution in his last words seemed prophetic. Five minutes later, when the big fish seemed at last to be tiring a little, and Mr. Sutton had slowly worked it closer to the boat, the marlin unexpectedly came to life, made its most spectacular leap of all—and the line snapped.
"Caramha!" the captain exclaimed sadly from above.
"Oh, Bill, you lost it!" Mrs. Sutton's voice was a moan.
Tony took one look at the American, whose face was a picture of tragedy as he numbly held the rod with the broken line dangling in the water. Then Tony peeled off
his shirt and soared from the rail in a shallow dive that carried him far out. Catching hold of the floating loose end which was attached to Mr. Sutton's rod, he swam furiously to where the other end was trailing just below the surface.
The marlin, fortunately, was now headed toward the boat, unaware that it was free. So there was no tension on the line as Tony quickly tied the two ends together
in a strong knot.
"Now!" he yelled, treading water. "Take up the slack-quick—before he jumps again and throws the hook."
Mr. Sutton, paralyzed with surprise at the speed with which he had lost his fish and recovered it again, obeyed automatically, a big smile gradually dawning on his face.
The captain maneuvered the boat cautiously to help Mr. Sutton and to keep the line from tangling in the propeller.
"Watch it, Tony!" he yelled. "The marlin's headed straight toward you! We'll be back to pick you up!"
Tony struck off at an angle in a fast crawl, out of the path of the oncoming fish and its dangerous, spearlike bill.
The boat pulled away quickly and in a few seconds the line was taut again.
Left alone in the ocean, Tony turned over on his back and floated. The water was warm and still. It was like floating in a quiet pond. He felt very peaceful for a few minutes—as though he would like to stay there forever, lying on the still water, unthinking. . . .
But as he lay looking up at the sky, an eerie orange light seemed to obscure the afternoon sun. There was
something strange about this day! Something almost ominous. He just hoped that if anything was going to happen, it wouldn't be serious enough to upset his plans for a second visit to Adan's property.
His mind began working over the details again. Actually, it should be easy, this time. Armando could distract the guard. He could say he had heard someone digging far down the lagoon. With the guard off on a wild-goose chase, Tony and Peter would have a clear field. And without Chico's panic hampering the operations, they could dig all night, if they had to.
That first experience had taught him a number of things. This time they'd take a bus and go straight to Armando's house, where the tools were already hidden —more efficient tools than they'd had the first time. Then, instead of that torturing walk along the lagoon, they would go by water in Armando's canoa. That way they'd arrive at the site fresh and ready for work—not exhausted like the last time.
Treasure of Acapulco Page 11