FRONTIER BOYS

IN THE

SOUTH SEAS

BY

CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT

ILLUSTRATED BY

RUDOLF MENCL

NEW YORK

HURST & CO., INC.

PUBLISHERS

THE FRONTIER BOYS

By CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT

This series tells the adventures of Jim, Jo, and Tom Darlington, first in their camp wagon as they follow the trail to the great West in the early days. They are real American boys, resourceful, humorous, and—but you must meet them. You will find them interesting company. They meet with thrilling adventures and encounters, and stirring incidents are the rule, not exception.

Historically, these books present a true picture of a period in our history as important as it was picturesque, when the nation set its face toward this vast unknown West, and conquered it.

Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth
Price per Volume, 50 Cents

COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY
THE PLATT & PECK CO.

CONTENTS

FRONTIER BOYS IN THE
SOUTH SEAS

CHAPTER I.

AN ENCOUNTER.

Juarez was sleepy, very sleepy. He had been traveling on a railroad train for several days, and while ordinarily he could adapt himself to circumstances, traveling by car instead of having a soothing influence as it does with some, seemed to keep him awake. He was thoroughly tired out, and was standing, just now, when our story opens, on dark and lonesome dock in San Francisco.

He was awaiting the return of Jo and Tom Darlington, his comrades in many trying and nerve-racking ventures, and he did not observe, or at least he did not give heed to a single, tall, sturdy figure quietly approaching him from the back, but keeping the while in the shelter of the warehouse roof which cast a heavy shadow upon the floor of the dock.

Juarez, as we have said, was sleepy, so sleepy that it seemed to him that the most desirable thing in the world would be to lie down upon the rough and knotty planks upon which he was standing and give himself up to the drowsiness which was overpowering him.

For the time he had entirely forgotten Jo’s last admonition:

“Remember, Captain Bill Broome is in town, and he’ll sure get you if you don’t watch out.”

He had smiled grimly at the warning, visions of some of his experiences with the redoubtable captain passing through his mind, but he had in no other way shown any evidence that the words of Jo had made any impression upon him. Nevertheless he had mentally promised himself to be on his guard, but the sleepy spell that he could not shake off put old Bill Broome and everything else out of his mind.

Beside, how could the captain know that he was in town? It would seem that if he, the captain, knew anything at all about the whereabouts of the boys, he would place them, Jo and Tom in New York, and Juarez in Kansas, for they had arrived in San Francisco only a few hours before and their visit too a most unexpected one.

Juarez, the reader should know, was a youth of eighteen, and although the son of American parents, he had been stolen by Indians when a child and had been brought up by them. He and his sister had been rescued by Jo, Tom and their elder brother Jim.

He had many of the traits and habits peculiar to the wild life he had led so long, and ordinarily could be depended upon to be watchful and alert. But to-night, after the long railroad journey, he found himself in a large city where safety was seemingly assured. With the insistent desire for sleep he relaxed his vigilance, and was only recalled to wakefulness and a recognition of his surroundings when he felt himself suddenly seized and his arms pinned fast to the rough wall of the building against which he had been carelessly leaning.

We have made some mention of the early life of his comrades, the Frontier Boys, and the reader will likely wish to know more about them. Jo and Tom were twins; however, the former was the most active and go-ahead, but the real leader in their adventures was James, the elder brother. It would be difficult to find anywhere a finer specimen of young manhood than James, better known among his friends as Jim Darlington.

Tall, rather slender in build, but well proportioned, with muscles as hard and strong as though they were wrought of steel, he had the strength and quickness of a catamount, and was afraid of nothing, but even more than this, he was manly, honest, resourceful, and to be depended upon to the last. He was not exactly handsome, but the self-reliant way in which he carried himself made him conspicuous even in a crowd. With it all he was in no way assertive or aggressive, but calmly ready to meet whatever might happen to come whether it were good or ill.

From his home town in New York State, Jim had been suddenly called to the Far West to look after his yacht, the Sea Eagle, an ocean going boat equipped for propelling power with sail and engine. He had bought the boat fairly enough, but on enforced conditions, which Captain Bill Broome, the former owner, had recently found a way to override, illegally, of course, but he was in possession, which is generally said to be nine points of the law.

Juarez had known nothing of the Sea Eagle complication, but one day a stranger had come to the Kansas Town where he lived, enquired for him and had promptly laid before the youth a proposition to join in a venture to search for lost treasures in the South Seas. The professor, for so he introduced himself, had all the needed funds for the venture, but lacked experienced assistants. He wanted them not only with experience, but honest as well, for naturally, if success attended his efforts, and the sought for treasure was found it would prove an ever present temptation to an unruly crew, or one disposed to evil.

Juarez had accepted the offer as soon as made. The quiet life of the farm, and even the occasional visits to the small, nearby country town were dull indeed. To one of his active nature this life was very monotonous. He had promptly wired, at the professor’s request, to James Darlington, and Jo, receiving the message in his brother’s absence, had, after consulting Tom, wired acceptance of the very liberal offer made.

So it had come about that Jim being in San Francisco on one mission, his brothers and their friend had arrived to take part in another enterprise.

Reaching San Francisco, effort had been made by the three boys to locate Jim, but so far unsuccessfully. The reader of the [“Frontier Boys in Frisco”] is fully conversant of the episode which had taxed Jim’s time and attention.

The boys had arranged to sleep aboard the professor’s boat, and Juarez was awaiting the return of Jo and Tom, who had gone upon some errand.

Juarez, thus suddenly awakened, struggled vainly but furiously for a few moments to break the iron grasp that held him as in a vice. Then, with Indian cunning he apparently gave up the attempt and ceased to struggle, but resolved to renew his efforts at the first opportunity that offered.

He had been taken so unaware that he had no chance to see who it was that had stolen upon him from the back, seized him, and held him with his face to the wall of the building against which he had been leaning.

“Ho!” cried a gruff voice, “I have got you at last.”

“It looks that way,” admitted Juarez. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“You,” replied the other.

“What do you want with me?” went on Juarez.

“That you will soon find out,” was the reply, with just a suspicion of exultant laughter in the tone of the speaker, at the same time relaxing his hold a little.

With the quickness of a panther, Juarez, as he felt the other’s hold relax, slipped from his grasp, and whirling about seized his opponent in turn and a moment later the two were rolling and tumbling about on the floor of the dock. They were so equally matched in strength that it seemed only by chance or through some lucky turn in his favor that either would be able to overcome the other.

CHAPTER II.

A CONFERENCE.

Jim Darlington and John Berwick, the latter the once time engineer of the Sea Eagle, were on the morning on which our story opened, after an early breakfast, seated in a secluded part of the rotunda of the Commercial Hotel, where, safe from possible eavesdroppers, they were discussing the events of the previous day.

“Well, Jim,” asked Berwick, “what comes next?”

“I don’t know,” answered Jim. “I am just trying to think it out.”

“Well, I hope your mind is in better condition than mine,” returned Berwick, “I don’t seem to see any way out.”

“Then, we must make one.”

“I confess it’s too much for me,” went on Berwick, sitting back resignedly. “That old rascal of a Bill Broome seems to have made a clean sweep of it this time. He’s got the young senorita safe in his clutches on the Sea Eagle, and with that sister for a jailer, as far as I can see he will sail away with her and we can sit here and chew our thumbs for all we can do.”

Berwick was referring to his own and Jim’s experiences as related in a previous book, the [“Frontier Boys in Frisco.”]

“I am not so sure of that,” exclaimed Jim, shutting his teeth down with a snap. “I am not through with that old pirate yet.”

“I’m with you there, Jim,” agreed Berwick. “I owe him something on my own account, but I don’t see any prospect of an immediate payment.”

“If we only knew which way he was going.”

“That’s a pretty big if,” said Berwick.

“Maybe not as big as it looks,” returned Jim. “At any rate, I mean to find out.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know yet, but I mean to find a way.”

“I think you will, Jim. Have you no plan in view?”

“None, except to get a boat and follow him. I’d give half a fortune if I only had Jo and Tom here.”

“And Juarez,” put in Berwick.

“And Juarez, of course.”

“Why not telegraph for them? It would only take a week for them to come?”

“I’m afraid Broome would not wait for them to get here,” answered Jim with a smile. “Whatever we do has got to be done quick.”

“I wonder what he is going to do with the senorita, anyway,” went on Berwick.

“Hold her for a ransom, I suppose,” answered Jim. “I’ve got it!” he cried, springing to his feet. “Come on.”

“What now?” demanded Berwick.

“It’s all right,” replied Jim, “I’ll explain as we go along.”

“Glad of it,” responded Berwick, “but I’m blessed if I see it.”

“Why, you see,” began Jim, but as he spoke a bellboy with a yellow envelope in his hand came up to him.

“Telegraph for yo, sah,” he said, handing the envelope to Jim.

“For me!” exclaimed Jim in surprise.

“Yes, sah,” replied the boy. “Just done come.”

Tearing open the envelope, Jim read the message with an exclamation of surprised wonder.

“No bad news, I hope,” interposed Berwick.

“On the contrary, it’s more than good. Just what I was a moment ago wishing for,” replied Jim, handing him the slip. “What do you think of that? Jo and Tom are actually on their way here. Why, and for what purpose I don’t know, but so it is.”

“Of all things!” ejaculated Berwick. “What can it mean?”

“That luck is with us,” said Jim. “We will get the Sea Eagle back yet.”

“I hope so,” replied the engineer, dubiously, “but—”

“Now, John, don’t be bringing in any buts,” retorted Jim. “Don’t you believe we can do it?”

“Haven’t any doubt of it,” returned Berwick, laughing heartily at Jim’s impetuous speech. “I was only going to say that Broome is a pretty tough customer.”

“We won’t quarrel about that,” admitted Jim, with a grin. “He is about the toughest proposition we have been up against.”

“Have you any plan in mind,” went on Berwick.

“I think the first thing to do,” answered Jim, “is to go and see Senor de Cordova and learn what he has heard of the senorita.”

“Why do you think he has heard anything?”

“If Broome is holding her for a ransom, as we believe, he will send word to her father as to when and where to send the money.”

“That seems reasonable,” agreed Berwick.

“I propose to be there, and have a hand in the proceedings.”

“Oh, you do! And how do you propose to get there?”

“Can’t say yet until I know the when and where of it. It will probably be in some secluded place where they will expect to be safe from attack, which will suit us all the better, as we will give them a surprise. If we can’t do any better we will follow them.”

“Going to swim after them?”

“It isn’t as bad as that,” laughed Jim. “I think we will be able to pick up a boat somewhere that will serve us. The first thing to do is to find out where they are going.”

“That does seem to be advisable,” returned Berwick, “if we expect to be there.”

“Now, don’t be sarcastic, old chap,” replied Jim, good-naturedly. “You know what I mean. Of course, all our plans must be based on that.”

“All right, Jim,” agreed Berwick, “but how do you propose to get that information?”

“Ask Senor de Cordova.”

“Don’t believe he will tell you,” said Berwick laconically.

“Why not?”

“Well, if he has had word from Broome, he has probably been warned not to say anything about it.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Jim, “but still I think he will tell us. It fairly makes me wild when I think of that girl in the hands of those ruffians.”

Jim clenched his hands as he vowed to himself that it would go hard with them if any harm came to her.

“Same here,” responded Berwick heartily.

Jim was pondering deeply, and sat gazing through the windows.

“Do you know where to find the Senor?” Berwick went on a few minutes later.

“I suppose he is stopping at the Palace. That is where we saw them the other day.”

A few minutes walk brought them to the hotel, where, on inquiry, they learned that the Senor had been stopping there, but that he had gone away that morning.

“No, he did not say where he was going,” the clerk informed them. “He went away on horseback and his man on another mount.”

“Then he will probably return to-day?” suggested Jim.

“Who knows?” the clerk answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “No, he did not say where he was going or when he would be back. No, he hasn’t given up his room. If it is anything of importance about which you wish to see the Senor, you might interview his lawyer, Mr. Reynolds at No. 10 Court street, who, perhaps might know where he has gone.”

“Were they his own horses?” went on Jim.

“Couldn’t say,” replied the clerk. “Perhaps the porter can tell you. He went for the horses, I believe. Here, Pedro,” calling the porter, who was standing nearby, “you got the horses for the Senor this morning, didn’t you?”

“Si, Senor,” answered the porter, a swarthy Mexican.

“Where did they come from?” asked Jim.

“From Ross and McLanes,” replied the porter. “The Senor told me to tell them to send around the best horses they had in the stable, no matter what they cost. They were mucho hermosa, very handsome. He paid for them right down. Never questioned the price.”

“Sorry I can’t give you more information,” added the clerk, “but I think if you want to find the Senor, you had better see Mr. Reynolds.”

“Thank you,” replied Jim. “We will go there.”

“Hem!” commented Berwick when they were on the street again. “We didn’t find out very much.”

“I don’t know,” answered Jim. “At least we have found that he has heard from Broome.”

“How do you make that out?”

“He went away unexpectedly or he would have made more preparation, and he left no word where he was going or when he would be back, which shows that he was going on some secret mission.”

“You are probably right,” admitted Berwick, after a moment’s thought. “We won’t be able to get any information from him.”

“But we may get something from his lawyer,” replied Jim cheerfully. “He probably knows where he has gone.”

“What shall we do to get there, walk or ride?”

“Better ride, I think,” said Jim, hailing a cab. “We haven’t any time to lose.”

It was only a short distance, and in less than fifteen minutes they were in the office of Mr. William Howard Reynolds, who was better known to the shady side of San Francisco than he was to the reputable inhabitants of the town. The office was in an old, rather dilapidated building, not far from the city hall.

“Mr. Reynolds is in,” so the clerk in charge of the outer office informed them, “but is particularly engaged at this time. If the gentlemen will be seated, I will learn if Mr. Reynolds will see them.”

Going into an inner office, he returned a moment later to say that Mr. Reynolds was very busy, and that he would not be able to give them any time unless their business with him was of importance.

“Tell him,” directed Jim, “that I wish to see him on a matter of much importance to Senor de Cordova.”

The clerk, a man of about forty, with an expressionless face, except for a cunning twinkle about the eyes, took the card Jim handed him, and again disappeared into the inner room.

At this moment Jim, who was standing by the windows looking upon the street, happened to glance down and caught a glimpse of the familiar figure of Captain Broome, who had apparently just emerged from the building.

“I wonder what he was doing here,” muttered Jim to himself.

“Who? What?” asked Berwick.

“Sh!” whispered Jim, “I will tell you later.”

“Mr. Reynolds will see you for a few minutes,” announced the clerk, holding open the door to the inner office for them to pass through.

CHAPTER III.

PICKING UP THE ENDS.

The room which Jim and the chief engineer entered was furnished in marked contrast to the outer room, which was plainly, even meagerly equipped with a few chairs and a table or two and a desk. The inner room was luxuriously and lavishly fitted up with a handsome mahogany desk, easy chairs, fine paintings upon the walls and costly rugs upon the floor.

Motioning to them to be seated with a sweep of his hand, upon which glittered a serpent ring of peculiar design with ruby eyes which seemed to glow as if alive, the lawyer eyed them coldly for a moment through half closed eyes.

“You wished to see me upon business connected with the Senor de Cordova,” he said, without any preliminary greeting.

“Yes,” replied Jim quietly, “I have been referred to you as being in charge of his affairs.”

“By whom?”

“The clerk at the Palace Hotel.”

“Ah, indeed. What is the nature of your business with him?”

“That I will communicate with him personally,” answered Jim, who had conceived an instant distrust of the man. “What I wish to know is his present address.”

The lawyer leaned back in his chair and softly whistled for a moment with a sort of hissing sound.

“He’s concocting some sort of a scheme now,” thought Jim, who was regarding him critically.

“I cannot inform you of his exact whereabouts,” remarked the lawyer, “but he is somewhere in the northern part of the State. He was called away on some important business.”

“Was it in connection with the abduction of his daughter?” asked Jim, rising to his feet and standing beside the desk looking directly into the eyes of the lawyer.

“Eh, what is that?” asked the lawyer, hastily shuffling the papers on his desk, but not before Jim had caught sight of the words “San Mat—” in a familiar handwriting.

“I said, has his journey any connection with the abduction of his daughter?” repeated Jim.

“What do you know about the abduction of the Senorita de Cordova?” asked the lawyer, sharply. “Perhaps you had something to do with it.”

“I haven’t anything to do with it,” answered Jim, “but I know who did, and I know where the Senorita is.”

“Indeed, you seem to think, young man, that you know a good deal. Suppose I were to put the matter in the hands of the police?”

“Just as you like,” responded Jim, “there is my address if you want me. You can find me there any time. I think,” turning to Berwick, “there is nothing more to be gained here.”

“There doesn’t seem to be,” replied Berwick.

“Then don’t waste any more of my time,” said the lawyer sharply. “Wickham,” to the clerk, “you can show these gentlemen,” with a sneering emphasis on “the gentlemen,” “out.”

Thus curtly dismissed, Jim and his companion made their way to the street.

As soon as they had gone, the lawyer hastily wrote upon a sheet of paper:

“Look out for a young fool who calls himself James Darlington, and knows more than is good for him,” to which he added the initials W. H. R. and calling Wickham into the room gave it to him with orders to see that it be delivered at the address given, where it would come into the hands of Captain Broome at once.

This done, Mr. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, and began whistling softly.

“I think, Mr. James Darlington, that a voyage with Captain Broome might teach you not to meddle in other people’s affairs,” he said to himself, with an ugly expression on his face.

The message reached its destination within a few minutes after it had been sent, and was in the hands of Captain Broome in less than half an hour.

“Ha!” snorted Broome, when he read it. “I think I can take care of him. Hey, Manuel,” to a swarthy Mexican dwarf, who was with him. “That Jim Darlington is making trouble again. Get on his trail so I can catch him.”

“Si, Senor,” replied the Mexican with an ugly grin. “Shall I give him the knife?”

“No,” responded Broome, vindictively, “I want him alive.”

CHAPTER IV.

BUFFETED.

“I don’t know how you feel, chief,” remarked Jim, when the two were out on the street again, “but it strikes me that, as we have something of a busy day ahead of us, and don’t know just where we shall bring up, it wouldn’t be a bad plan to make sure of some lunch now.”

“I don’t see any objection to it,” replied the engineer.

“Didn’t think you would,” answered Jim with a laugh. “Never knew you to refuse a meal yet. If I remember rightly there’s a restaurant just around the corner where we can get something to eat and get a chance to map out our plans. The cooking isn’t quite up to the Delmonico standard, but it is good and there is plenty of it.”

“Well, that means there’s enough of it such as it is,” said the engineer, “but I guess I can stand it if you can. Lead on, Jim.”

Jim led the way around the corner, not, however, without casting a glance back and walking for several doors past the place he had spoken of. Then, after looking about him, he retraced his steps and entered the restaurant, which was an unpretentious place on a side street.

“There’s a table over there,” he said, indicating one in the rear of the room, “that will suit us. We can see all who come in and won’t be conspicuous ourselves.”

“What’s all this mystery, Jim?” asked the engineer, when they had taken their seats and given their order.

“I have a feeling that that Mexican imp of deformity, Manuel, isn’t far away, and we can’t afford to take any chances.”

“You are right there, Jim,” responded Berwick heartily. “That chap gives me the shivers. He’s more like a snake than a man.”

“That’s just it. He’s so confoundedly slippery, it almost seems that you never can get a hold on him, and if you did, what can one do with such a miserably deformed body? Ugh!”

“One never feels easy when he’s anywhere about,” admitted Berwick.

Jim made no further comment, but he was evidently thinking deeply.

“The next thing to do,” began Jim, when the meal had been served and the waiter gone to attend to other duties, “is to see if we can get a ship—”

“And follow them,” put in the engineer.

“I’d like to get there ahead of them if we could.”

“If we only knew where the place was.”

“Oh, I know that,” said Jim quietly.

“You do!” exclaimed the engineer in astonishment. “Where is it?”

“San Matteo Bay—”

“San Matteo. Where is that?”

“About seventy-five miles down the coast.”

“How did you find it out?”

“Mr. Reynolds told me.”

“Mr. Reynolds!” echoed the engineer, “When?”

“When we were there,” replied Jim laughing at the look of astonishment on his companion’s face. “You remember that he told us that the Senor had gone into the northern part of the State.”

“But you just said that San Matteo was ‘down’ the coast.”

“Of course,” responded Jim, a trifle impatiently. “Don’t you see that he wanted me to think that he went the other way from what he did?”

“I see. Then when he said he went north—”

“It was then,” broke in Jim, “that I happened to catch a glimpse of a paper on his desk with a name on it. I wouldn’t have noticed it only for his anxiety to cover it up when I was standing there, and I just caught this much—‘San Mat—’”

“Why do you think it meant San Matteo?”

“Because San Matteo is just the place that would suit Broome for his purpose. There is scarcely anyone living around there. It’s about three or four days’ journey by land and about two by water, so Broome can give the Senor a couple of days start and see if he makes any attempt to evade the conditions, and still be there to meet him on time.”

“I see, you have a long head, Jim, but what is to prevent Broome from getting the ransom and still keeping the girl?”

“You and I.”

“Humph!” returned the engineer, “that looks to me like a pretty big contract we are taking up.”

“It is,” responded Jim, “but we have got to carry it through.”

“It looks to me,” went on the engineer, “as if we were going to be pretty busy for the next few days.”

“And the sooner we get started, the better,” added Jim.

Leaving the restaurant, Jim and the chief engineer walked leisurely to the corner, where they stood for a few minutes, ostensibly watching the hurrying crowd of people on the street, but nevertheless keeping a watchful eye for anyone who might be dogging their footsteps.

“Seen anything of that imp of darkness?” asked the engineer.

“No,” replied Jim, “he isn’t anywhere in sight, but I don’t believe he is very far away.”

“Can’t we shake him off some way?”

“That’s rather doubtful, but we can lead him a merry chase.”

“That’s something. What’s the plan?”

“We will walk down the street,” explained Jim, “as if we had no particular purpose in view, then we will separate, and you will go one way and I the other. Then, unless, as Tom says, ‘he is two gintlemen in wan,’ and can go both ways, he won’t know which one of us to follow.”

“Trust him for that,” said the chief engineer, “he’s sure to follow you.”

“So much the better,” returned Jim. “I think I’ll manage to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You can go down to the maritime exchange, and see if you can learn of something in the way of a yacht that will serve us until we can get the Sea Eagle back. One to buy or hire, whichever is offered. You know what we want.”

“All right. I guess I can locate something.”

“Meantime,” continued Jim, “I will go up the bay and look over anything in the harbor. That will puzzle Manuel if he is after me.”

They separated, and the engineer sprang into a passing street car, and with a “so long, Jim,” disappeared. Jim reached the wharves through another street, secured a rowboat and started on his quest, which occupied his time for several hours.

It was a little after the appointed time when Jim arrived at the designated meeting place coming from across the bay in his boat.

“Call this five o’clock?” grumbled the engineer, when he joined him a moment later. “I was beginning to think that gorilla Broome had gobbled you at last. I have been hanging around for the last hour waiting for you. Well, what luck?”

“Found some makeshifts, but not just what I want. How was it with you?”

“Failed entirely.”

“Well, get into the boat,” directed Jim, “and we will talk things over as we go along.”

“Where are you going now?”

“Out to take a look for the Sea Eagle, and see if she is still there.”

“You haven’t told me what you found,” persisted Berwick.

“One thing I am sure of, I lost that fellow Manuel.”

“See anything of him?”

“Not a thing. Maybe he was after you instead of me.”

“Heaven forbid,” ejaculated Berwick, with a half glance backward.

“So you did not find a ship for us?” repeated Jim.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything in port that we can get. Just missed getting one, though. Martinex sold a ship this morning that would have just suited us.”

“That’s tough,” sighed Jim. “We have got to have one before Broome gets away.”

“Don’t know where you are going to get it.”

“Neither do I,” returned Jim. “But we are like the boy and the hedgehog, ‘We have just got to get one.’”

By this time they had come within sight of where the Sea Eagle lay riding quietly at her anchor, but not going close enough to be recognized by any on board who might be on the watch.

“There isn’t any signs of their getting ready to sail,” decided Jim, after a few moments study of the yacht. “So I think we are safe for another day.”

“There is something that would suit us to a T,” remarked Berwick on their way back, indicating a trim looking schooner-rigged yacht. “She’s a beauty,” he observed enthusiastically.

The yacht seemed to rest as lightly upon the water as a sea bird. Long, low, with not too much freeboard, it rose and fell on the waves, tugging at the anchor chains as though impatient to slip her leash and bound away on her course. It was painted in a pale metallic yellow that glittered in the rays of the setting sun like gold.

“The owner of that boat won’t hire her,” declared Berwick. “I bet he thinks more of her than he does of his wife.”

“I don’t believe he has one,” declared Jim. “Almost as good as the Sea Eagle, isn’t she?”—which was high praise from Jim. “Perhaps we could hire her. We might take a look at her.”

“The Storm King!” he exclaimed, when they came near enough to read the name on the bow. “Why that is the boat the old captain told us about when he had the brush with Broome.”

“Brush with Broome is good,” said Berwick, with a laugh, “but I thought he said that boat was in the South Seas.”

“Must have come in. The captain said Singleton owned her. Maybe he would like to charter her. We’ll try him anyhow. Storm King, ahoy!” hailed Jim pulling up to the side of the yacht.

“Boat ahoy,” answered a sailor on deck.

“Is the captain on board?” asked Jim.

“D’ye mean Captain Wilkins?”

“I guess yes,” answered Jim, “I would like to speak to him.”

“I admire your nerve, Jim,” said Berwick, in an undertone.

“Coming on board, sir?” asked the sailor, making ready to heave a small line.

“Yes,” returned Jim, “heave away.”

Catching the line the sailor had thrown, Jim and Berwick climbed the gangway ladder to the deck where they were met by Captain Wilkins, a grizzled old seaman, attired in an undress uniform. He was tall, stoutly built, with an alert air about him that impressed both Jim and Berwick favorably at the start.

“How do you do, gentlemen?” The captain greeted them with punctilious politeness, “glad to meet you.”

“And we are very glad to meet you, Captain Wilkins,” returned Jim. “This is a fine boat you have.”

“Isn’t she,” returned the captain with enthusiasm. “There was never a better come out of a shipyard. Look at her lines. Why she sets on the water like a duck. And roomy, too. She ain’t one of the slim waisted kind where you don’t have room to turn around. Why, Lord love you, lads, ye could be no more comfortable if you put up at the Palace Hotel.”

“You’re right there, captain,” agreed Berwick, “I never saw a prettier boat. I can see you carry quite an armament.”

“Oh, that was for use in the South Seas. She was engaged in trade down there, and we used to have a brush occasionally with the pirates. Not of late, however, for they learned to leave her alone.”

“Do you own her?” asked Jim.

“Haven’t such good luck. Wish I did. No, she belongs to a professor with a long name, though I’m blessed if I know what he’s going to do with her. Just bought her a couple of months ago, and fixed her all up. Overhauled the hull and rigging, put in new tackle and fixed up the engines as good as new.”

“Do you think he would sell her?” asked Jim.

“Not him,” responded the captain. “He has just got her fixed to suit him. She’s fit for a queen now. Just come below and take a look around.”

Accepting the invitation, Jim and Berwick went below and inspected the staterooms and found that they fully justified the captain’s praise.

“Ye gods and little fishes!” exclaimed Berwick, “it looks more like a lady’s boudoir than a ship’s cabin.”

“I fancy you’ve hit it, don’t you know,” agreed the captain, “I kind of fancy that he’s going off on a bridal tour.”

“Where is the professor now?” asked Jim.

“He’s off East somewhere,” replied the captain. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone after the lady.”

“Much obliged to you, captain,” said Jim, when they had gone up on deck again, “I’m awfully sorry she can’t be bought. I think she would have just suited us.”

“You can’t never tell,” observed the captain, philosophically, when they were leaving, “you might hunt up the perfesser when he gets back. Perhaps the lady might change her mind. Such things have happened.”

“So I have learned,” laughed Berwick. “Well, goodbye, captain. We may act on your advice.”

CHAPTER V.

WHEREIN ARE SEVERAL SURPRISES.

John Berwick had taken the oars on leaving the Storm King, and had pulled for some time in the direction of the city. Without speaking, he gave undivided attention to his task, while Jim seated in the stern sheets, was also silent, lost in thought.

“Well, Jim,” began Berwick, after a time, as they were nearing the city wharves, “have you decided on your next move?”

“Yes,” responded Jim, rousing himself. “The next thing I am going to do is to get dinner.

“Then,” continued Jim, “I am going to bed and get a good night’s sleep and make a fresh start in the morning.”

“A most sensible thing, Jim,” agreed the man at the oars.

“That’s what Broome is going to do, too.”

“What?” asked Jim.

“Make a good start in the morning.”

“Can’t help it if he does,” growled Jim. “Have you anything better to suggest?”

“No, I suppose that we have done all that we can.”

“But not all that we are going to do!” snapped Jim. “I’ll find some way of squaring our accounts.

“Hallo!” he cried in an undertone a moment later. “Now what do you think of that?”

“What is it?” asked Berwick in alarm.

“Look there on the wharf.”

“By the beard of Neptune! You’re right!” exclaimed Berwick, dropping his oars in his surprise, and nearly capsizing the boat as he grabbed for one.

“Easy there, old fellow,” cautioned Jim, “remember I haven’t got my bathing suit on.”

“What in the name of all that is wonderful is he doing there?”

“Looks as if he was taking a nap,” said Jim. “Sh! Don’t wake him!” as Berwick with his hand to his mouth was about to call. “We’ll crawl up on him and take him by surprise.”

“Make him think old Broome has got him,” chuckled the engineer.

Berwick pulled the boat gradually up to the wharf, and after making fast, the two conspirators climbed up on to the wharf and crept toward the unsuspecting Juarez, as has already been told in the opening chapter of this book.

Juarez had not recognized his antagonist, and struggled furiously. The two rolled and tumbled about on the floor of the wharf, there being no time or opportunity for any explanation. Berwick, who had watched the outcome of the “surprise” with amusement, thinking it had gone far enough, was about to interfere, when Jo and Tom, who had come up unobserved, threw themselves into the melee, and in a trice had Jim secure and powerless to move.

“Whew!” panted Juarez. “That was a close call.”

“I told you to watch out!” declared Jo. “But it isn’t Broome.”

“Jo! Tom!” called Berwick, who was shaking with laughter at the turn the affair had taken. He stepped out of the shadow where he had been hiding.

“Hallo!” cried Tom, suspiciously. “Who is it?”

“It is I, John Berwick,” responded the engineer, between peals of laughter. “Better let your captive up, but keep out of his reach. It’s Jim.”

“Jim!” exclaimed Jo and Tom together. “What is Jim doing here?”

“Just giving Juarez a little surprise party,” explained Berwick.

Promptly while still talking the boys had released Jim, who got on his feet sputtering and angry.

“Hold on, Jim,” expostulated Berwick. “It’s all your own fault. You brought it on yourself. But, I say, Juarez, where did you come from?”

“Just came on from home,” said Juarez. “Thought I’d give you a surprise.”

“You did all right,” laughed Berwick. “It seems to have been a surprise party all around.”

“Ho!” cried Jo, “that ain’t all, we’ve got a bigger surprise yet.”

“What is that?”

“What do you say to a trip to the South Seas and a search for a treasure island?”

“For a what?”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Jim, who had been slowly recovering his good humor.

“A trip to the South Seas,” reiterated Jo.

“I say,” interposed Berwick, “I thought you said, Jim, that the first thing you were going to do was to get dinner. I begin to feel a hollowness in my interior that needs attention. Suppose we postpone explanations until we have had something to eat.”

“Now, you’re talking sense,” agreed Tom. “And we’ll hunt up the professor and have him, too.”

“The professor!” exclaimed Jim. “Who is he?”

“Oh, the professor with a name as long as the alphabet,” replied Jo. “He can explain better than we can.”

“The professor with the long name!” cried Jim and Berwick simultaneously. “What do you know about such a man?”

“Nothing,” replied the boys, “except that he has engaged us to go on the Storm King for a treasure hunt. What is the matter with him?”

“Well, that beats all!” said Berwick weakly.

“What’s all the palaver about anyhow?” demanded Jo. “I thought we were going to get something to eat before we had any more talk.”

“Come on,” said Berwick. “I know I’m dreaming, but want to get the dinner before I wake up.”

“Where is the professor?” demanded Jim.

“He’s at the Golden Gate Hotel,” answered Jo. “We all came on together and went to the hotel. Then we came out to hunt you up. We were going to get a boat and row out to the Sea Eagle.”

“Lucky you didn’t,” returned Jim. “Old Bill Broome has got the Sea Eagle again.”

“He has!” cried Jo and Tom in consternation, “what did you let him take her for?”

“That was unavoidable,” volunteered Berwick. “He has some illegal claim which Jim can’t upset, the lawyers say.”

“Can’t we get her back again?” asked Juarez.

“We certainly will,” answered Jim, “now that you are all here. I’m awfully glad to have your help.”

“Let’s go and see the professor,” suggested Juarez. “Perhaps he will help us out.”

“Of course, he will,” said Tom. “He’ll know just what to do.”

“Which is more than we do,” remarked Berwick to himself.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PROFESSOR’s STORY.

It was only a short walk to the Golden Gate Hotel, where they found that the professor was in his room. They sent to him to ask if he would see them. A moment later the bellboy returned, accompanied by a spare but sinuously built man of medium height. It was difficult to judge his age, though Jim conjectured him to be about forty. Still, he might have been either ten years older or younger. He had a sharp but pleasant face that had been warmed to a deep brown by the ardent rays of the tropic sun. His moustache and full beard in the fashion of the day, was dark brown, almost black, and was closely trimmed like his hair, which was quite gray—an individual that you would know at once as a man that had done something worth while. His movements were deliberate, but so easy and graceful that there was not a fraction of wasted effort, and much quicker than they appeared to be. His eyes were clear and penetrating, and, as Juarez expressed it, “seemed to look right through you.”

“That’s the professor,” whispered Jo to Jim as the man came into the rotunda where the boys were waiting. “There isn’t much of him, but he’s all there.”

Coming toward them, he cast a rapid glance over the group that seemed to appraise them all in one moment.

“You are James Darlington,” he said in a pleasant drawl, advancing to Jim with outstretched hand. “I would recognize you anywhere from your likeness to your brothers. I am very glad to meet you. And,” turning to the engineer.

“Mr. Berwick,” answered Jim. “He is the chief engineer of the Sea Eagle.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Berwick,” said the professor. “I suppose, Mr. Darlington, that these young gentlemen have told you about my expedition. Not yet. Oh, by the way, have you dined? No? So much the better. Neither have I, so we will have dinner first and our talk later.”

“But,” objected Jim.

“Objection overruled,” returned the professor promptly. “You are my guests to-night. I hope you are hungry.”

“No,” replied Berwick, “we are way beyond that. We’re starved.”

“Then we won’t delay any longer,” returned the professor with a low laugh that was pleasant to hear, and leading the way to the dining room.

“Shall I order the meal?” he asked, when they were seated at the table. “There are some dishes they have here that I can specially recommend.”

“All right,” said Tom. “I’m ready to tackle anything.”

When the meal, during which all reference to the purpose which had brought them together was strictly tabooed, was over, the professor invited them to his rooms and told them to make themselves at home, and he would explain the purpose he had in view.

“Now,” began the professor, settling himself in a big chair and lighting a curious looking pipe, “where shall I start?”

“That’s a queer looking pipe,” interjected Tom, who had been regarding the object with a good deal of interest.

“It is a little odd,” agreed the professor. “What do you think it is?”

“Looks like a skull of some kind,” ventured Jim.

“Not a bad guess,” replied the professor. “It is part of the skull of an ophidian.”

“An o’ what?” ejaculated Tom.

“Not an owat,” corrected the professor, “but a giant ophidian of palazoic times.”

“Gracious!” cried Tom. “I thought it was something awful, but I didn’t suppose it was as bad as that.”

“I suppose there is a story connected with it,” said Berwick.

“Yes,” replied the professor, “rather a tragic, though a common enough one in that region.”

“We would like to hear it,” suggested Jo.

“Well,” began the professor slowly, “imagine if you can the depth of a tropical jungle with a wilderness of tangled vegetation, of arching palms and giant forms whose fronds sway in the air high above a man’s head. Through this tangle there creeps a naked savage intent on the hunt for some animal upon which he can feed. In front of him, pendulous from an over hanging branch there falls a rounded body like a mighty cable, whose green and yellow colorings mix in with those of bush and tree. As the savage creeps beneath, there is a sudden motion in the cable. It comes to life and coils about the man.

“With a shrill cry of fear, the man tries to unloosen the deadly folds, grasping the slimy serpent about the throat in a desperate clutch. But all in vain. They writhe and struggle, but neither relax their hold, and they fall to the ground beneath the arching palms.

“The seasons come and go. The ferns and palms die and bury the snake and his victim beneath the fallen leaves and floods bring down the waste from the hills and cover them more completely.”

“My goodness!” cried Tom. “Did you see it?”

“Not actually,” answered the professor. “All that happened a long time, years, centuries, aeons, perhaps, ago. What I know is that one day on making an excavation we found the two skeletons, that of the man and the snake in such a position as to indicate the story I have told you. I picked up the skull and the fancy took me to have it mounted and made into a pipe. But that isn’t getting on with the business.”

“Are you a zoologist?” asked Berwick.

“No,” replied the professor. “I suppose you are thinking of my title. I use that because people generally know me better that way, and—” he smiled broadly—“it’s easy to say. I am a mineralogist—a mining engineer. I got the title of professor from a college back East where I lecture occasionally on mineralogy and petrology. People haven’t time to write my name though it’s not so difficult to pronounce.”

“Sure enough,” said Jim. “I do not know your name yet.”

“Let me write it for you,” said the professor. And taking a sheet of paper this is what he penned.

Featheringstonehaughleigh.

“You will always be just plain professor to me,” determined Jim, and there was a general laugh.

“To resume,” went on the professor, “for the past three or four years I have been down in the South Sea Islands prospecting. Acting for an English syndicate which had an idea that there were some gold or silver mines that could be developed.”

“Did you find any?” questioned Jim.

“None that were worth while, but while I was there I came across an old sailor who had a story of a fabulously rich mine that was located on one of the islands. He didn’t know just where, and had been hunting for it for a good many years, traveling from island to island in his quest.”

“Couldn’t he find it?”

“All he had to guide him was a rudely drawn map of the island that was located somewhere in the Southern seas. He worked all alone, for he was afraid to share his secret with any for fear that they would kill him to get it all.”

“Are they as bad as that down there?” asked Tom.

“About as bad as they are made, a good many of them are,” replied the professor. “But, to get on with my story, it happened that I was enabled to do him a good turn on one occasion, and he confided his secret to me. I tried to help him to find the island, but, as the longitude and latitude were rather vague, we couldn’t locate it. I helped him all I could, and when he was taken down with the fever, just before he died he gave me the map on the condition that if I found the mine I would share with his family, which I agreed to do.”

“Do you think there was any foundation for his story?” asked Jim.

“I think there is. At least I thought there was enough in it to give up my work for the syndicate and organize an expedition to hunt for it. It seems, according to Brook’s story, John Brook was his name, that his father when a young man was a sailor on an English vessel. On one of his voyages, his ship was captured by pirates and the crew were made prisoners. They were carried to the pirates’ lair on an island away from the usual track.

“Here, those who did not join the pirates were compelled to do all the rough work about the place. As there was no means of getting away from the island except by the pirates’ vessel, they were not kept very close watch of, and were allowed the freedom of the place. This island, it would seem from his description, was of volcanic origin, and had a mountainous ridge, several hundred feet in height at one end. As this part of the island was exceedingly rough and rocky it had no attraction for the pirates, who kept to the low ground along the shore.

“In one of his rambles about the island the sailor came upon a ravine leading up into the mountain, and he followed it up to where it ended in a fissure in the rocks. He was curious to see what the inside looked like, and returning another day, entered the fissure, which lead into a large cavern, where, according to his story, the walls were glittering with gold.”

“Fool’s gold,” interjected Berwick.

“So I thought at first,” responded the professor, “but Brooks said that his father picked up a half dozen nuggets ranging in size from that of a bullet to that of a walnut. He seems, like his son, to have been a secretive sort of a man, for he kept his discovery from his shipmates. From time to time he made visits to the mine as he had opportunity, gathering the nuggets, which he kept concealed about his person until he had accumulated a considerable store, hoping that some time he would be able to make his escape, which, with several of his companions, he was finally able to do.”

“How did he manage to get away?” asked Jo.

“It seems, from the story, that he and some of his shipmates, having procured a small boat, which they secreted at the mountainous end of the island, and stocked with provisions, they set out on a dark and stormy night when there was less chance of detection. The storm developed into a gale which they ran before, and which drove them many miles, bringing them into the course of trading vessels, one of which a day or so later, picked them up and landed them in a Chilian port. Here Brooks sold a nugget and got money enough to get home. On his return he talked much of the mine, and drew a map of it for his son, who started out in search of it.”

“How did he expect to find it when he didn’t know its location?” questioned Jim.

“He had it figured out something like this. The place where they were picked up by the vessel was about latitude 9 south, longitude 129 west. Now, when they were picked up they had been driving for some thirty-six hours before a southwest wind at not less than fifteen knots an hour. This would make about five hundred and forty miles they had come from the island, which must, therefore, lie somewhere between five or six hundred miles to the southwest.”

“I should think that would be the spot where he would look for it,” said Juarez.

“That is what he did, and so have I,” was the reply, “but we were, neither of us, able to locate it.”

“Do you think it really exists?” asked Jim.

“I am quite certain of it,” answered the professor. “At any rate, I am going to make another attempt, and I want you to go along with me.”

“What do you want with us?” questioned Jim.

“Well,” replied the professor, slowly, “I need some efficient help, and I have had my eye on you boys for some time. I had heard of you, that you were thoroughly trustworthy and could be depended upon in any emergency, and I decided that you were just the kind of companions I wanted. But I may as well tell you right at the start that this is not going to be a picnic party; we are going to have our work cut out for us, and plenty of it, so if you go along you are likely to see some pretty exciting times before we get through.”

“That don’t scare us any,” put in Jo.

“I didn’t think it would,” the professor went on, “and if it turns out as I believe it will, we shall all have all the money we need for the rest of our lives.”

“But why should you take us in?” persisted Jim.

“Why, if we should succeed in finding the treasure,” the professor explained, “it would be a great temptation to those who learned of it to use any means, fair or foul, to get possession of it. That is one of the reasons I want you. I feel that I can depend upon you through and through.”

“I think you can,” responded Jim quietly, but not the less emphatically. “What we say we are ready to stand by.”

“I am quite sure of it. Now, the proposition I have to make is this: I will finance the expedition, taking all the risk. Now wait”—to Jim, who was about to interrupt. “If we succeed I will take one-half of what we get. Out of my half I will provide for Brook’s family. The other half I will divide, one quarter for you and one quarter to the crew. How does that strike you?”

“That’s fair enough,” agreed the boys.

“Should we fail, I will pay you for your time.”

“Oh, we’ll take our chances on that,” broke in Jo. “We’ll get enough fun out of the trip to pay for that.”

“When do you want to start?” asked Jim.

“I’m ready now. If you are, I think we can get off within a day or two.”

“I would like to go with you,” went on Jim, “but there is something I would like to attend to first.”

“May I ask what that is?” inquired the professor.

Whereupon Jim told him of the seizing of the Sea Eagle, and of the abduction of the Senorita de Cordova.

“Broome!” exclaimed the professor, when Jim had concluded, “is that old rascal mixed up in that?”

“Do you know him?” asked Jim in turn.

“A little,” replied the professor, dryly. “He tried to work off some of his little tricks on me, but I wasn’t to be caught napping. Do you happen to know a particular friend of his, one called Manuel?”

“Ugh!” broke in Berwick. “Don’t speak of that incarnation of wickedness or I shall begin to smell brimstone. I’d rather contend with his satanic majesty, himself.”

The professor made no comment, but asked, “Have you any plans?”

“Nothing definite,” answered Jim, “except to get to the place where the girl is to be returned and see that the bargain is carried out.”

“Good!” agreed the professor. “That is the first step, of course. Now, if you want us, I and my boat are at your service.”

Jim sprang to his feet. “Oh, thank you!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, “we shall be ever indebted.”

“Don’t mention it,” returned the professor. “I have a little score to settle with Broome, myself. I have reason to think he is after me. In some way he has found out about the mine and the map that I have and he is ready to resort to any measures to get possession of it. So you think San Matteo is the place appointed?”

“I feel sure of it.”

“Where are you stopping?” continued the professor.

“At the Commercial Hotel,” replied Jim.

“Well, then we won’t waste any more time. Suppose you meet me at the foot of Market street to-morrow morning at six o’clock. We will then go on board of the Storm King and be ready to take up the chase at once if the emergency arises. It is late now, too late for you to go aboard, so I will arrange for Jo and Tom to stay here to-night.” Then to Jim and Juarez he added:

“Good-night, and remember to-morrow it’s six o’clock sharp.”

“Good-night,” responded those addressed. “We’ll be there.”

A room adjoining that occupied by the professor was secured for the boys and their baggage was brought up from the office where it had been temporarily deposited.

CHAPTER VII.

THE STORM KING.

It was still lacking a few minutes of the hour named when Jim, Juarez, and Berwick, who did not intend to be left out of the venture, arrived with their handbags at the wharf at the foot of Market street. The professor had not yet arrived. The sun had risen above the hills, and the place was in heavy shadow. Putting down their bags upon the wharf, the boys walked to the water edge and began a discussion of the merits of the boats at anchor in the harbor. They were soon joined by Jo and Tom.

Unobserved, a dwarfish figure stole noiselessly from the shadow, and seizing upon the nearest bag—it was Jim’s—he ran swiftly down the wharf. Not quickly, however, as to escape the watchfulness of Juarez, who, to make up for the dereliction of the previous evening, was especially alert. With a shout of alarm to the others, Juarez set off at once in pursuit of the flying figure, which had already disappeared around a corner. Jim and Tom followed more leisurely, depending upon Juarez to run down the culprit. Berwick and Jo remained as a guard over the rest of their baggage.

“What happened?” cried Jo.

“That villain, Manuel,” replied Berwick. “He has made off with Jim’s handbag. He seems to be everywhere at once.”

“Juarez will catch him,” said Jo, confidently.

“I hope so,” returned Berwick, “but an eel has nothing on him for slipperyness.”

And so it proved, for the others came straggling back, one by one, without having found any trace of the Mexican or the bag.

“That’s rather an unauspicious beginning to our trip,” commented Berwick. “Did you have anything of importance in your bag, Jim?”

“Nothing but my clothes,” replied Jim, ruefully. “But it’s bad enough having him carry them off right in front of us. That’s another score I have to settle with him.”

“He will be carrying some of us away, if we aren’t careful,” put in Jo.

“Hallo, look there! What in the name of goodness is that coming?” cried Juarez, indicating a strange object which was advancing down the wharf.

Seen in the half-light of the morning, it seemed to consist principally of arms and legs which were wildly waving in the air.

“Looks like a big devil fish,” cried Tom. “Better look out, boys.”

But as it came nearer it resolved itself into two figures, one of which, the larger, was carrying the smaller, which latter was squirming and struggling in an effort to escape.

“It’s the Professor!” cried Juarez, “but what the mischief has he got there?”

“That’s it!” cried Jim, joyfully. “He’s got the ‘mischief’ himself. It’s Manuel.”

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Jo and Tom, running forward to meet him. “Where did you get him?”

“You will find your bag back upon the wharf,” explained the professor, when he came near, holding the snapping, snarling object up in the air with a vicelike grip on the waistband of its trousers. “And mine, too,” he added, as the boys started off on a run in the direction indicated.

“I caught this viper sneaking along with a bag that I knew did not belong to him, and that I took to belong to some of you. What do you think we had better do with this thing?” indicating Manuel.

“I think,” observed Berwick, “we had better take it on board with us and put it in a cage like any other wild beast.”

“Not a bad suggestion, that,” agreed the professor. “That’s about the best thing we could do with him.”

But with a sudden twist the wily Mexican slipped from his loose trousers, leaving the garment in the professor’s grasp.

“Hi—stop him!” shouted Jo, making a futile attempt to seize him.

But with an inarticulate snarl of rage, the Mexican made a headlong plunge from the wharf into the water, disappearing from sight.

“Ugh!” exclaimed the professor, holding up the empty trousers. “He’s shed his skin like the snake he is. He had better take them along,” tossing them into the water.

“We will get him when he comes up,” cried Tom.

But, although the boys ran along the string piece of the wharf looking for him to reappear, they saw nothing more of him. An officer in uniform was called and told of the circumstances. After watching for some time they were obliged to conclude that the villainous Mexican had at last met his just desert.

“Well,” remarked Jo, at length, “I guess we have seen the last of him.”

“I sincerely hope so,” returned Berwick, “but that fellow has more lives than a cat.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any use of waiting any longer,” said the professor. “He doesn’t seem to be coming back. There is nothing we can do and we may as well go on.”

By this time the sun was up, and the wharf was beginning to be astir with people. The boatmen were coming and going over the bay, intent on business. Hailing one of the larger boats, which was rowed by two Hawaiians, the professor asked them if they could carry the party out to the yacht.

“Si, senor,” replied one of the rowers. “Take you all; no sink the boat.”

Although the boat sank nearly to the gunwales when they were all on board, and they were uncomfortably crowded, still the water was calm and the trip to the yacht, which was anchored about a quarter of a mile out, was made without any mishap.

“Well, what do you think of my ship?” asked the professor, when they drew up alongside the Storm King.

“She’s as pretty as—as—” began Jo.

“As a picture,” added Tom.

“As a pink,” supplemented Juarez.

“As she can be,” finished Tom.

“Wait until you get on board,” interposed the professor.

“We have been on board,” put in Jim.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the professor. “When?”

“Yesterday,” replied Jim. “Berwick and I called on the captain. We thought perhaps we could secure her for our trip.”

“That expresses your opinion,” said the professor with a laugh. “You wouldn’t have wanted her unless you thought she was pretty good.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jim. “She looked good to me.”

“Good morning, captain,” called the professor to Captain Wilkins, who was standing by the gangway waiting to receive them. “I have brought out some young men who are going to show us how to sail the yacht.”

“Good morning, professor,” replied the captain. “Same to you, gentlemen. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I think it is never too late to learn. If you have any new tricks of seamanship I shall be glad to learn them.”

“That’s only a joke of the professor’s captain,” replied Jim. “All we know is enough to stand watch, and do our trick at the wheel if need be.”

“Well said, lad,” responded the captain, heartily. “Are you going to make a voyage with us?”

“Yes,” replied the professor, “they are booked for the trip. Now, how soon do you think we can get away?”

“Well, now that depends,” replied the captain, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully. “Did you bring the new engineer along with you?”

“The new engineer?” asked the professor. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know, sir,” replied the captain, “Mr. Ward has gone? ’Twas day before yesterday he went ashore, and when he came back he had another man with him. Said he had a better job, and was going to leave. Said this other man was going to take his place. Thought he had it all arranged with you.”

“The first I have heard of it,” said the professor.

“I told him I had nothing to do with it,” went on the captain. “If you said it was all right, it was all right.”

“So, we haven’t any engineer,” said the professor. “That’s awkward. I suppose we shall have to lose a lot of time while we hunt up another.”

“Why not Mr. Berwick?” suggested Jim. “He’s a first class engineer, and he wants to go with us anyway.”

“Why, of course,” replied the professor. “Never thought of that. How stupid of me. How is it, Mr. Berwick, will you take the place?”

“Suits me to the dot,” replied the engineer. “Wanted to go along, and glad to be of use.”

“All right, Mr. Berwick. Suppose you take hold at once and look things over.”

“Very well, sir,” replied Berwick. “Lucky I brought my traps along.” Picking up his bag he descended into the engine room followed by Juarez.

“Well, how is it?” inquired the professor, when Berwick came on deck again a little later. “Everything all right?”

“Indeed no,” replied Berwick. “Looks as if somebody had been tampering with the engine. Lot of loose bolts and nuts. If she had been started up there would have been a pretty smash-up. However, I think two or three hours’ work will put it all right.”

“That must be some of Broome’s work, I suppose,” commented the professor. “Bribed the engineer. You see what we have ahead of us, boys. Go ahead and do the best you can, Mr. Berwick. But I suppose we had better have breakfast first. Got anything to eat on board, captain?”

“Fully provisioned, sir,” replied the captain. “I told your steward that you would want breakfast and I think he has it ready.”

“Very well, then,” said the professor. “That seems to be the next thing in order.”

A handsome, and what was more important, a very competent man, the steward proved to be. The professor explained that ever since his early youth Pedro had been in his employ, and his father before him for many years.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE JOURNEY BEGINS.

“Well, boys,” said the professor, “have you had enough breakfast?”

“I don’t know whether I have had enough or not,” responded Jo. “But I’m afraid I can’t eat any more.”

“That’s bad,” remarked the professor. “I’m afraid there is something wrong with you. Still, if you go on deck, perhaps you will be better by dinner time. But while we are down here you might pick out your staterooms. This is the captain’s room, and this is mine. That is the engineer’s room. But you can take any of the others you want.”

Looking over the rooms about which there was really little choice, Jo and Tom selected one to their liking, and Juarez decided on the invitation of John Berwick to room with him as he was going to act as assistant engineer on the voyage. This left Jim with a cabin to himself.

The boys had but just settled the matter when they were startled by a series of loud and angry exclamations from the professor.

“Now, what do you think of that?” he cried, when the boys rushed into the saloon where he was standing holding up his handbag in which a long slit had been cut with a sharp knife.

“Their audacity passes all bounds!” he went on wrathfully. “They have got it at last.”

“What is lost?” asked Jim.

“The chart, the map of the island,” replied the professor. “I don’t know as it will do any one else much good. Besides the points of the compass it has only mystifying figures on it, but it’s a bad loss for all that.”

“Are you sure it is gone?” asked Jim.

“Well, it isn’t here,” replied the professor. “Fortunately, I can remember the latitude and longitude, which is really the important thing.”

“What was the paper like?” put in Tom.

“It was just a rude chart,” answered the professor. “It was in a flat box. I put it in the box to keep it safe from getting wet or worn out. I got tired of carrying it with me so I put it in the bag last night, not intending the bag should get out of my sight. And I don’t know when it did.”

“Looks as if we had spies all around us,” said Jim.

“It certainly does,” agreed the professor. “But now that we are on the yacht we will be safe.”

“Humph!” muttered Tom, who had just returned to the cabin after a moment’s absence, “I’m not so sure about that, but,” he continued, “was the box anything like this?” He held up to their gaze a thin oblong tin box.

“Why, it looked like that!” exclaimed the professor, taking the box Tom offered to him. “Why, it is it! What are you doing with it?”

“I found it in my bag this morning,” explained Tom. “I thought that it belonged to Jo, and that he had dropped it in by mistake.”

“I suspect that is just what I did in an absent-minded spell this morning,” said the professor. “The joke is on me, boys. Perhaps it is a lucky thing that I did it, for I think now, seeing this slit in my bag that the best thing I can do is to have you take care of it for me.”

“Don’t you think you had better keep it?” protested Jim.

“Not after this experience,” replied the professor, holding up the cut bag. “Besides, I think it will be decidedly safer with you.”

“Very well, then,” replied Jo. “We will do our best to take care of it.”

“I know that,” said the professor.

Jo and Tom spent the morning going over the yacht getting acquainted with its equipment and with the crew. The latter were mostly Hawaiians with one Irishman, an Englishman and the Mexican steward. Juarez was busy down in the engine room with Berwick, and Jim and the professor were in consultation in the cabin over their plans to outwit Broome.

“The Marjorie of Liverpool,” remarked Tom. The speaker was standing on the after deck studying the vessels in the harbor. He read the name he spoke through a pair of binoculars. It was a small steamship anchored not far from the Storm King. They had passed it early in the morning on their way to the yacht, but he had not noticed it particularly until now.

“I wonder where she came from, and where she is going?” went on Tom.

“From Liverpool, I suppose,” replied Jim, who had joined them, “and quite likely she is going back again.”

“Wonder how she got way out here?” continued Tom.

“You are full of wonder to-day,” laughed Jim. “Steamships go anywhere and everywhere. Here comes the captain. We can ask him.”

“What is it you want to know?” inquired the captain, who had overheard Jim’s remark.

“We were just talking about that steamship there, the Marjorie, and speculating as to what she is and what she’s doing here.”

“It’s pretty hard to tell that,” replied the captain, after taking a look through the glasses. “She’s English built and rigged, that’s certain, but I don’t know what she’s doing so far from her home port.”

“She has good lines and looks as though she might have speed,” criticized Jim.

“Ay, ay, lad, ye’re right there,” agreed the captain. “She looks like a cross between a yacht and a trader. I suspect that is what she is, a trader.”

“She seems to have a big crew for a trader,” said Jim, who had been studying the vessel while talking. “And she looks as though she might carry a pretty heavy armament, too.”

“Have you noticed that?” observed the captain. “Ye have a good eye, lad, and a quick mind. I was just thinking the same thing myself. I wouldn’t wonder if she was doing some contraband trade down the coast. I see she is going out, soon.”

“How do you know?” asked Jo.

“She is getting steam up.”

“So is the Sea Eagle,” exclaimed Tom. “They have started their fires. She must be going out, too.”

“Looks like it,” put in Jo. “There is Broome now, with some of his men.”

Pulling along close under the stern of the Marjorie, there was seen a small boat in which was Captain Broome with his chief subordinates.

“See anything of Manuel in their boat?” asked Jo.

“No,” replied Tom. “He isn’t in the boat. They must have left him behind.”

“He must have been drowned,” said Jo.

“I don’t know about that,” replied Tom, “but it is certain he isn’t in the boat; there are four men besides the captain and on top of their other baggage is a big hamper.”

“How’s the engine, Mr. Berwick?” asked the professor of the engineer, calling down into the engine room.

“All right now, sir,” replied the engineer. “We are just going to get up steam.”

“Very good,” said the professor. “Keep it up, for we may want to start any minute. Keep your eyes on the Sea Eagle, captain, and let us know if she shows signs of getting under way.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” responded the captain.

“Feel any better now, Jo?” asked the professor, with a smile, “it is pretty near time to eat again.”

“I’m all right again now, professor,” responded Jo.

“Better get ready then, for I hear Pedro rattling the dishes down there.”

“I think”—began Tom, when they were down in their staterooms taking a washup before the noon meal.

“That it is time for dinner,” interrupted Jo.

“No, sonny,” replied Tom. “My thoughts are not as your thoughts, always on the gross material, but—” Going to the door, he called Jim into the room. Then, after a look into the saloon, closed the door.

“Hist!” whispered Jo. “The plot thickens.”

“What is it now, Tom?” asked Jim.

“I think”—began Tom, in a low tone.

“You said that before,” interrupted Jo. “But I don’t believe it.”

“That it would be a good plan,” continued Tom, “to hide the chart in some safe place.”

“Not half a bad idea, don’t you know,” drawled Jo, “but where is that safe place?”

“I have an idea,” went on Tom.

“Clutch it before it gets away,” advised Jo.

“That we can make a secret closet where we can put it.”

“That is a good scheme,” agreed Jim, “if—”

“Hear! Hear!” broke in Jo.

“Here, as well as anywhere,” replied Tom.

“What is your plan?” asked Jim.

“I was thinking of making a secret drawer or closet in this cabin.”

“Do you think we could do it?” asked Jo.

“I don’t know,” replied Jim. “We can tell better after we try. The proof of the—”

“Eating is in the pudding,” interrupted Jo.

“Let’s go ahead and do it.”

“Where do you think is a good place to make it?” asked Tom, looking around the room, which was paneled in mahogany. “We might take up a board in the floor.”

“But some one might get at it from underneath,” objected Jo.

“No danger of that,” replied Tom. “Who is going to look for it?”

“Well, if there is no danger of anyone looking for it, what is the use of hiding it?” demanded Jo.

“That’s right,” agreed Jim. “If we are going to do it at all, let’s do it thoroughly. If we can take out one of the panels, we can make a dandy place.”

“That’s the idea,” chimed in Tom.

“I think we can take out one of these panels,” continued Jim, examining the wainscoating carefully, “but we must first get the professor’s permission.”

“We will ask him the first thing after dinner,” cried Tom.

“And there is dinner, now,” said Jo, as the sound of a gong resounded through the air.

The professor was an interesting dinner companion, and even though all felt that serious business was ahead of them, no reference was made thereto. At the conclusion of the meal Jo said:

“Professor Feather—”

“Ingstone,” broke in Jim.

“Haughleigh,” added Tom.

“I’m all broke up,” laughed the professor.

“Can we make a hiding place in one of our staterooms?” asked Jo.

“Why, I suppose so,” replied the professor. “What do you want to do, play hide and go seek?”

“In a way,” laughed Jim. “We want to make a secret place in which to keep the chart.”

“Oh, I see,” interrupted the professor quickly. “By all means.”

“You see, we can—”

“That will do,” returned the professor with another laugh. “If you are going to make a secret place the fewer who know of it the more it is of a secret. Keep it to yourselves.”

“Even from you?”

“From every one,” said the professor emphatically. “If you need any tools or anything get them quietly.”

The brothers lost no time, but at once set about making a place of concealment. Jim, who, of the three had the more genius for mechanics, taking the initiative in the work, studying carefully the artistically constructed paneling to settle upon a plan.

“Do you think it can be done so that it won’t be seen?” asked Tom.

“Yes,” decided Jim. “I think so. By taking off this moulding, we can saw through the edge of the panel, put on leather hinges, and I can make a spring catch. Then replace the moulding and it will never show.”

“That will be easy,” asserted Jo.

“Glad you think so,” retorted Jim. “It will have to be done as nicely as the original work.”

“When are you going to begin?”

“Now,” answered Jim. “Only one can work at a time, so you may as well go on deck. I will start the job. I will take one of the panels near the floor. After I have started, we can take turns at the work. When we begin, we want to finish as soon as possible.”

“All right,” returned Jo. “Let it go.”

When the others had gone, Jim secured from the engineer such tools as he needed, and returning to his room, closed the door. He selected a panel, and was about to take off the molding when he heard some one moving in the cabin. Whistling carelessly he opened the door of his room, but there was no one near. The steward Pedro, was busily employed at the far end of the room, and the mate was just entering the cabin.

“Strange,” mused Jim. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone acting suspiciously. I was sure, though, that there was some one near the door just now.” He then called to Jo, and arranged that he should stay in the cabin on guard.

Jim returned to his task, and with infinite care removed the molding from the panel. Then he called Tom below, and working alternately, in a short time they had made the secret opening to the compartment. As it was between the wall of the stateroom and the planking of the vessel, and being inaccessible from any other point, it seemed absolutely safe. The work under Jim’s direction had been so deftly done that it could not be detected. It was opened by pressing a spring made of wire and placed in an adjoining panel.

Fastening the box containing the chart with a strong cord, it was lowered into the aperture and the cord fastened to a hook at one side of the opening.

“There,” said Jo, when the box had been lowered, and the place closed. “It will take more than a wizard to find that.”

“It looks that way,” agreed Tom, “but—”

“Oh, you’re a regular goat with your buts,” cried Jo. “What is the matter with it?”

“Nothing,” said Tom. “It is all right, but some people can see through a stone wall.”

“Of course they can if it has holes in it, but there ain’t any holes in this.”

This task ended, they went on deck, where they found the professor and the captain intently watching the Sea Eagle, which had steam up and seemed to be about to get under way.

“I was just going to call you,” said the professor. “I think that the next act is about to begin.”

“Good!” cried Jim. “Let’s hope they will find something doing that is not down on the program.”

“Isn’t it rather late to start?” asked Berwick, who had come out of the engine-room, leaving Juarez in charge.

“Not if you are ready,” was the professor’s answer.

“I suppose they think they can slip away from us in the dark,” chuckled Jim.

“It will be something of a surprise if they find us at the Bay when they come,” said Jo.

“Engine all right, Mr. Berwick?” asked the professor.

“Working splendidly,” replied Berwick.

“Very well, then,” replied the professor, “we will get off at once. I see that the Sea Eagle is going to start. Will you give the word, captain?”

The captain passed the order to the boatswain, and an instant later, the crew striking into a chant began to wind up the anchor chain, and in a few moments came the call:

“Anchor apeak, sir!”

“Anchor’s fast!” called the boatswain.

“Ready at the wheel,” directed the captain from the bridge, where he was standing with the professor. The captain rang the bell in the engine room, the propeller revolved, slowly at first, then more quickly, and the Storm King, gathering momentum, was headed through the channel’s mouth for the open sea. The voyage had begun. Anticipations and hopes ran high. What would the outcome be?

“My, but it is good to get the smell of the salt again,” cried Tom.

He and Jo were standing in the bow of the boat, taking in long breaths of the salt air which blew in their faces. The spray from the waves, as they curled away from the bow, dashed over them.

“And there is better still to come,” added Jo.

“Why, here comes the Marjorie,” cried Tom. “We are all moving out at once.”

The party on board the Storm King had been so much interested in getting under way and in watching the Sea Eagle, that they had forgotten the other vessel until Tom had noticed it following in their wake about a mile behind. Gaining the open sea, much to the surprise of those on board the Storm King, the Sea Eagle was headed directly to the north under full speed, the heavy volume of smoke from her funnel trailing behind like a cloud.

CHAPTER IX.

A PLOT.

It was true that the Marjorie was following in the wake of the other ships, and some word respecting her mission will be of interest to the reader.

Our scene is once more the office of that legal adviser of unsavory reputation, to whom earlier reference has been made.

“I have some work for you to do, Captain Beauchamp.”

The lawyer leaned back in his revolving chair and watched the other man with coldly critical eyes.

“Ah’m glad teh hear it, suh,” replied the other in a soft southern drawl.

The two men were sitting in the inner sanctum of Attorney Reynolds’ office. Unobserved, there was lying in a half opened drawer of the desk, and within easy reach of his hand a fully loaded revolver. There were but few of his clients that the lawyer received with the drawer closed.

“Ah, what is it like?” the captain went on, after a short pause, shifting his position to a more easy one.

The captain was tall and slender, with a habitual slowness of movement that could be changed on occasion to a tiger-like celerity. His face was thin, with sharply cut features, and dusky brown in color. His eyes were black and deeply set beneath heavy black eyebrows, and a long, sweeping, black moustache hid a thin straight-lipped mouth.

“Do you know the Marjorie?” went on the lawyer.

“Ah regret ah have not the pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance,” drawled the captain.

“Formerly the Mercury, of nowhere in particular,” added the lawyer.

The other man started up with a sudden interest.

“What about her?” he asked.

“I asked if you knew her,” the lawyer went on.

“Ah reckon ah do,” replied the captain with a sigh. “Ah never sailed a better boat, suh!”

“How would you like to sail her again?”

The captain started up eagerly, and then sank back again. “Ah reckon there’s no such luck for me.”

“There may be,” returned the lawyer, with emphasis on the may.

“What is it?” demanded the other quickly.

“I have a bit of work I want done,” said the lawyer slowly. “If you do it and do it right, the command of the Marjorie is yours.”

“Ah’m yoh man,” answered the captain. “What is it?”

“Nothing very difficult. Do you know the Senor de Cordova?”

“No. Never heard of him. Who is he?”

“A very wealthy Mexican, the owner of a big sugar plantation in Cuba.”

“Ah see. Yoh want me to capture him and hold him foh ransom?”

“You are half right,” replied the lawyer. “Listen. Five days ago, his daughter, the Senorita Marie, was captured by Bill Broome. Within the next two or three days she will be surrendered upon the payment of five thousand dollars.”

“And Ah’m to crap the five thousand?”

“No, wait. The money is to be paid over at Mendola.”

“Ah know the place, on San Matteo Bay.”

“That’s it. Now, I want you to pick up the Senor and his daughter and take them on board the Marjorie—”

“What is yoh plan?”

“With a few men of your own choosing you will take the San Matteo trail and meet them as they come back. It should be no great thing to take them.”

“Ah reckon not. And what am ah to do with them?”

“Take them on the Marjorie.”

“And then?”

“That is for you to decide,” replied the lawyer. “Whatever you like. All that is desired is that they do not come back. You understand?”

“Perfectly. Yoh can be shuah they won’t trouble anyone any mo’.”

“Oh, they don’t trouble me any,” responded the lawyer. “This is a government matter. He is shipping guns and ammunition into Cuba. We represent the Cuban revolutionists.”

“Ah see,” the captain laughed. “Yoh represent the government.” He was about to say more but thought better of it, but his thought was—the government is looking for that sugar plantation.

“If you do this and make no blunder, the Marjorie may be yours.”

“So,” mused the captain. “The plantation is bigger than I thought.”

“She is fully provisioned,” went on the lawyer, “and the old armament is all aboard, stowed away in the hold. You can pick up a crew I suppose?”

“Ah reckon ah can, if any of the old boys are around. Ah’ll take a look down around the Barbary coast.”

“Then you understand the first thing you have to do?”

“Ah reckon ah do.”

“Now, do you know Professor Featheringstone—?”

“Never mind the rest,” the captain broke in. “Yoh mean a mining sharp that was down in the South Seas?”

“That’s the man. Broome says that he has a chart of a treasure island which lies down that way, and he is going down to locate it.”

“Broome is?”

“No, the professor. Broome has been trying to get hold of the chart, but hasn’t been able. Now, the professor is going out to search for the treasure in the Storm King. He has a lot of boys, the Frontier Boys, they call them.”

“Ah have heard of them,” said the captain, thoughtfully.

“Perhaps,” suggested the lawyer, “after you have captured the senor, you might follow the Storm King and get the chart.”

“Ah see,” returned the captain, “but,” shaking his head, “that will be difficult.”

“Not so difficult when you know the arrangements made. There will be on board the Storm King a friend of yours. He is to secure, if he can, the chart. All the particulars of the arrangement you will find in this letter. Read it carefully and follow out every detail.”

“Anything more?”

“Yes. Here is the contract. You will read carefully and sign.”

The captain laughed, grasping without hesitation a pen. He read not a word, but laboriously penned his name at the point indicated.

“And now?” he said.

“That is all. Here is an order to Samson & Co., to turn the ship over to you. A prosperous future to you, captain.”

“And to yoh, suh.”

The two men looked each other in the face for a moment, then the captain silently took his departure.

On leaving the lawyer’s office, Captain Beauchamp went at once to the office of Samson & Co., where, on presentation of the order, the Marjorie was turned over to him. Thence to the Barbary coast, where he had little difficulty in picking up the crew he needed, including a man of his own type as mate. These he sent on board at once. The engineer was ordered to get everything in readiness for immediate departure. To the mate he gave directions that on the following afternoon he should set out for Playys, a small harbor near San Matteo Bay, and there await his coming.

Selecting two of the crew upon whom he could rely, the captain hired a team of horses and a driver and set out upon the road to San Matteo. They traveled without incident, stopping over night at a hotel on the way, until they came within about a mile of San Matteo. Here the driver with his horses was sent back, they proceeding the rest of the way on foot.

San Matteo Bay is a point at which it will be seen many interests are centering.

CHAPTER X.

AT SAN MATTEO BAY.

“I thought you said that the rendezvous was somewhere in the South,” drawled Berwick.

He was standing with Jim and the professor on the afterdeck of the Storm King, watching away in the north the fast disappearing Sea Eagle.

“So I did, and so it is,” answered Jim stoutly. “That heading to the north is only a ruse on Broome’s part to lead us in the wrong direction.”

“Hope you are right, but—” returned Berwick, leaving the sentence significantly unfinished. “I am going down to the engine-room again. Let me know if anything new transpires.”

“Which way shall I lay our course, sir?” asked the captain, coming up to where the others were standing.

The professor, before replying, looked at Jim inquiringly.

“To the South!” insisted Jim.

“South it is then,” directed the professor.

“South it is,” answered the captain, going back to the bridge.

“We will keep on that course until morning,” added the professor. “And as there is a fair breeze blowing we will proceed under sail. Ask Mr. Berwick to bank the fires in the boiler.”

It was now dusk. The stars were showing in the sky, and the lights of the Sea Eagle were lost in the mist on the horizon.

For awhile the voyagers sat around on the deck listening to the professor’s stories of his experiences in the South Seas, but it had been a long and arduous day and they soon began to grow weary.

“I think,” began Tom, in a pause in the talk, suppressing a yawn. “I think I shall turn in until time for my watch.” It had been arranged that some one of the four should always be on deck.

“A very sensible idea,” agreed the professor; “I think we will all be better for a good night’s rest.”

Without incident of note, all through the night the Storm King sped on her way south.

The party were all on deck early the next morning. It seemed on looking around that they were alone on the wide sweep of water. Way off to the west the sails of a vessel showed white like the wings of a bird on the horizon, and far away to the north was a blur from the smoke of a steamer.

It was well along in the morning when the bold headline of the cliff that marked the entrance to San Matteo Bay came into view, and it was middle afternoon when the yacht glided into the bay and sought an anchorage.

“Broome,” said the captain, “knows this harbor as he knows his cabin, but I am not familiar with any part except that near the entrance. It’s full of rocks farther in, and I will anchor under the lea of these northern cliffs where I know there is sufficient depth of water.”

The harbor covered an area of several square miles, and there was to be seen only one other vessel, a small lugger which lay close to the lower end of the bay.

“Well,” remarked Berwick, looking about the harbor. “Our piratical friend Broome doesn’t seem to have kept the appointment you made for him, Jim.”

“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but there is still time enough.”

“And you still hold to the opinion this is the place?” asked the professor.

“I may be mistaken,” replied Jim, “but I don’t believe I am. In any case the morning will determine. I am for going ashore then, and will investigate.”

Watches were set for the night, and for each interval of two hours one of the boys was on duty. Tom was on deck during the darkest period between two and four, and shortly before the latter hour he noted at a distance, although he could not see the ship, the noise of machinery, and felt sure that a newcomer had entered the harbor.

None were surprised at early dawn to observe the Sea Eagle riding quietly at anchor well toward the inner shore of the harbor, and some two and one-half miles distant.

Alongside of the Sea Eagle was a boat of nondescript appearance, the one they had seen the night before, and it was evident that the masters of the two ships had business of importance in hand.

“By Jove, old fellow,” cried Berwick, addressing Jim, “you were right after all. It is her, all right. We had better be getting ready.”

“Better go fully armed,” advised the professor. “You know that they are a pretty tough lot.”

“Tough enough,” agreed Berwick, “but I think we can take care of ourselves. I am not afraid to tackle anyone except that fiend of a Mexican. He is so little and slippery that I never feel quite safe when he is around.”

“I think we have seen the last of him,” put in Tom.

“Perhaps,” doubted Berwick, “but I don’t believe it. He’s got more lives than a score of cats.”

“Will you need any help from the crew or myself?” asked the professor.

“No,” replied Jim, “I think we can take care of the situation, and beside,” he laughed, “someone will have to look after this yacht or Broome will be getting away with her.”

“He will have a jolly good time doing it,” asserted the professor. “By the way, Mr. Berwick, you might attach a hose to the boiler so we can give them a warm reception if they try to come on board.”

“What are your plans, Jim,” the professor asked.

“First and foremost to see that the compact for the surrender of their prisoner, the Senorita, is carried out. Beyond that I must be guided by circumstances.”

“While Captain Broome is ashore with his men may be your opportunity to get back your ship.”

“I have that in mind, but any move now before she is free would add to the peril of the young girl.”

While they had been talking, the long-boat had been lowered and was now alongside the gangway.

“All aboard,” directed Jim.

Each member of the party was armed with a rifle and a revolver. It took but a moment for the five to get into the boat. Jim and Juarez took the oars.

“Where are you going to land, Jim,” asked Berwick, who had taken the tiller. “It won’t do to venture very close to the Sea Eagle.”

“The first point where we can find a landing place on the north shore. They will hardly see us at this distance.”

“Just over here is a good place,” suggested Tom, indicating a break in the rocky cliff where the land sloped down to the water.

It was only a short pull to the shore, and ten minutes later the boat was run up on a sandy beach, and the comrades disembarked. Making the painter fast to a large rock, the party, under the lead of Jim, set out for the other end of the harbor.

It was slow moving through the tangled underbrush, and nearly two hours were consumed in a roundabout trip which brought them to a point, where, themselves unobserved, a close and distinct view of the Sea Eagle and the lugger was obtainable.

Everyone on board the two boats was busily engaged in the task of transferring from the lugger’s hold numerous boxes, cases and casks, which were being stored aboard the Sea Eagle.

Berwick clutched Jim’s arm. “See,” he gasped, “on the afterdeck! What did I tell you?”

“Manuel,” muttered Jim, with almost a shudder.

“It means trouble,” grumbled Berwick.

“Nonsense,” responded Jim. But there was lacking the usual tone of assurance in his voice. He looked at his brothers and Juarez. No one spoke. All seemed imbued with the same feeling of inexpressible nervous concern. Was it a foreboding of some impending danger?

Very silently now the party pushed on, and a little later they were able to get a good view of the stretch of land occupying the space between the water’s edge and the foot hills, which were a full mile away.

It was a level plain with a few large eucalyptus trees of considerable growth clustered a short distance from the shore.

One particularly large tree of the group attracted Jim’s attention, and indicating this one, he announced:

“That is where the meeting will be held.”

The others looked at him in astonishment. To them the trees all looked alike.

“How do you know?” they chorused.

“See the birds flying about?” There were flying through the air a number of birds. Occasionally some of them lit for an interval, but never upon the tree Jim had pointed out.

“But what of that?” asked Tom.

“There is some one in that tree,” explained Jim. “That is why, as you will notice, the birds alight on the other trees, but never upon that one.”

Observing for a continuous period the actions of the birds their maneuvers seemed to confirm Jim’s theory.

“This then,” determined Jim, “is our place of observation when it comes to the surrendering of the Senorita and the paying of the ransom. We cannot be seen here, but can get quickly into action and upon the scene if there is need.”

“We have the place of ambush,” said Berwick, “and the next thing to find out, if we can, is, when the villains are to complete the transaction.”

“For that purpose I am going to attempt to hunt out the senor, and try to secure, if possible, an interview with him.”

Jim had noticed that a faintly marked trail led inland from the shore, and a short way up the nearest hill was seen a low bungalow with out-buildings which Jim concluded was a way-house or inn, and the likely stopping place of the Senor.

“What are we to do?” asked Tom.

“You four remain here on guard and fire two shots in quick succession if I am wanted.”

Saying this, Jim strode away in the direction of the foot hills, but sheltered the while from observation by the forest and underbrush.

It was as Jim surmised. On the veranda of the inn sat the senor intently reading a book. As Jim approached, no other person was in sight.

“Buena diaz, Senor,” called Jim.

Instantly the Senor sprang to his feet, observing Jim for the first time and facing him with a stern, uncompromising look.

“So you are concerned in this evil venture, you—”

“On the contrary,” broke in Jim, himself greatly surprised. “I have come to help you.”

“I have no need of help,” asserted the Senor, unbending not the least, suspicion in his voice.

Jim was staggered for a moment and at a loss for words. Here was an obstacle he had not thought of. Finally he ventured the inquiry:—

“You have not, however, recovered your daughter, the Senorita?”

“No.”

“And until you do, I assure you, there is grave danger.”

Something in Jim’s tones seemed to impress the Senor with his sincerity, and his future speech indicated the return of confidence.

“My daughter is abducted. By whom, I know not. How did you know of this?”

“Just by chance,” replied Jim. “But tell me about the capture?”

“But I know nothing,” protested the Senor. “She went out and came not back. Then I got word that these men,—these—” the Senor stopped. “They warned me to say nothing or that they would kill her.”

“Unless you paid them so much money,” added Jim.

“And you know that, too. It was much—five thousand dollars—but that is nothing if I have my daughter safe again. You think they will come?”

“I think they will try to get the reward,” said Jim, cautiously.

“And if they do not come, you will help me find her?” the Senor asked, looking into Jim’s face.

“Assuredly,” responded Jim. “But tell me about the arrangements you have made.”

The Senor glanced about, then walked with Jim a little distance from the inn. There was no apparent need for the precaution, for there was no one to be seen about the place.

“At five o’clock to-day, at an appointed spot, a tree below here, I am to be met by someone who will receive the money.”

“Yes,” said Jim, “and you already have your men perched in the branches of the tree.”

The Senor made an exclamation of intense

“It is the large eucalyptus on the margin of the grove,” continued Jim.

“Yes. Yes. You seem to know all.”

“All I must know to aid you effectively,” said Jim, earnestly. “You speak about the money, but your daughter, what of her?”

“That is arranged. She is to be seen by me before the money is given up. She is to be near at hand. I am to see her, it is promised, sitting in a small boat near the shore, and in the care of a good woman who has been her companion.”

Jim could not restrain a laugh. The idea of applying any such word as “good woman” to the virago on board the Sea Eagle.

“Captain Broome’s sister?” suggested Jim, inquiringly.

“Captain Broome’s sister,” repeated the Senor. “It is not possible. The captain is a comrade, a friend, engaged by me to carry arms and armament to my confreres in Cuba. Ah, what am I saying to you, James? My secret, in my anxiety for my daughter, my secret I have told, you must not repeat or disclose.”

“Your secret is safe, Senor, but your daughter is on board the Sea Eagle now, and Broome, whatever he may be, is not to be trusted.”

“I am amazed. It is true the Sea Eagle is in the harbor. So I was told by the innkeeper this morning. But I knew for what purpose, and I was glad to think that someone was near on whom I could rely in case of need. Then I have my trusted man, as you surmised, in the tree to give aid if called upon. But how know you all and so many of these things?”

“Perhaps I know more. You arranged all the plans through a certain lawyer in San Francisco?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“And he sold you out.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he plotted with Broome to get your daughter into his hands, that they might wring another five thousand out of you.”

“How dare they!” He thought a few moments, his face livid with suppressed rage. Then he continued, “They probably counted on my intense interest in Cuban affairs, of which I told you, to save themselves. But they are mistaken. I will kill them both.”

“Just now,” interrupted Jim, “we must attend to the business in hand.”

“I put the matter in your control.”

“At the hour named,” suggested Jim, “do you go to the appointed place. I will be in hiding near at hand with the others of my party. There will be five of us.”

“And what am I to do?”

“Do exactly as you have planned. Do not, I beg of you, vary one iota. Let your man in the tree know that he must be ready for quick action.”

“You have ever my thanks!” said the Senor.

Very carefully, Jim went over in anticipation every move of the arrangement. When about to take leave, the Senor wrung his hand expressing his gratitude and they parted. Jim rejoined his party and found them eating the lunch they had brought with them from the ship.

During the afternoon Jim scouted around the country to the north of them with a result that had much bearing upon the future, but he was on hand with the others long before the appointed hour.

CHAPTER XI.

ON BOARD THE SEA EAGLE.

We must now revert to the afternoon on which the redoubtable Captain Broome sailed from the harbor of San Francisco. It will be recalled that his was the first of the three vessels to leave the harbor. The captain was sitting in the cabin of the Sea Eagle in consultation with the Mexican dwarf whom, concealed in a hamper, he had smuggled on board. It was their purpose to have the boys think that the dwarf had been drowned at the time he had slipped from the professor’s grasp and plunged into the waters of the bay.

The captain was sitting in a revolving chair in front of the desk, whose top was strewn with papers and charts over which he had been pouring. His thoughts apparently had not been particularly pleasing, for there was a scowl upon his hard face which looked harder than ever, and there was an ugly glitter in his eye which boded evil for whoever crossed his path. Nevertheless, the dwarf, who was seated, or rather perched, upon the top of a worn and battered sea chest at the opposite side of the room, regarded him with indifference. If there was anything upon the face of the earth or of its waters of which the Mexican was afraid or which had the power to make him blench, he had never met it.

For a moment or two the captain glared at the dwarf, who returned his look indifferently.

“A nice mess you’ve made of this business,” growled the captain.

“It wasn’t my fault,” returned the dwarf surlily.

“Then I suppose it was mine,” snapped the captain.

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.

“You wouldn’t let me put a knife in him,” he snarled venomously. “The sharks would have had him now.”

“Bah!” sneered the captain. “Can’t you think of anything better than that? Besides, there are four of them. That’s too clumsy, anyway. And,” he went on after a moment’s pause, “I don’t believe you could have done it. Jim Darlington is too smart for you.”

If it was the captain’s intention to arouse all the malignity and vindictiveness of the hunchback’s nature to the utmost, he certainly succeeded. The dwarf’s eyes blazed with fire, his form trembled with rage and his voice when he spoke resembled more the hiss of an angry snake than the utterance of a human being.

“Leave him to me now,” he hissed. “I will make an end of this Senor James and his whole tribe.”

There was a devilish malignity in the way he spoke that stirred even the captain, callous as he was.

“All right,” replied the captain, “if that’s the way you feel about them, I guess you’ll take care of the matter all right.”

Getting upon his feet with an inarticulate growl, the captain lurched across the cabin and up the companion way to the deck, where a quick glance around assured him that there was no one within eavesdropping distance. Returning to the cabin he dropped heavily into the chair again.

“So the professor is back again?”

The dwarf made a surly gesture of assent.

“Why didn’t you get the chart?”

“How could I? I paid the porter five dollars to let me handle the bag for a minute, but there was nothing in it.”

“Why didn’t you take the bag?”

“What was the good? There was nothing in it, and beside there was no chance.”

“Where did he pick up those Darlington boys?”

“Who knows? He came with them on the train—all except Jim.”

“What has this Jim been doing?” went on the captain.

“Nothing. He is crazy. Since I saw you, I followed him here, there, everywhere.”

“Did he know you were following him?”

“He? No. He is the imbecile.”

“Do you think he knows where we are going?”

“No.” The dwarf laughed contemptuously. “He knows nothing. They are all of them to hunt for the treasure. He thinks no more of the girl.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” returned the captain. “I think he is on our trail, but we will give him the slip yet. And we will be rid of her, the day after to-morrow.”

“What are you going to do with her?” asked the dwarf.

“Put her ashore at San Matteo. If we don’t get rid of her pretty soon he will be bringing the whole pack down on us.”

“Him!” muttered the dwarf, “leave Jim to me. But he thinks more of the gold.”

“Why didn’t you at least get the papers from him?”

“Carambo!” hissed the dwarf. “Why didn’t I? I had the bag and those clumsy gringoes were chasing one another in the dark, when the professor, maledictions upon him, came in my way. Who would have looked for him there?”

“And he picked you up and spanked you like a bad little boy,” said Broome, maliciously.

“Curses on him!” howled the dwarf. “But I—I, Manuel de Gorgiza,” he struck himself on the chest, “will have my revenge on them all. But I fooled them. I swam under the water, and while they waited for me to come up I am under the dock, and I laugh at them all for the fools that they are. They think that I am down at the bottom of the bay, but I will have them yet.”

“It is time we were getting under way,” said the captain, rising. “You will have to postpone your revenge until we come back.”

Going on deck, the captain gave orders to start and in a short time the Sea Eagle was on her course out through the Golden Gate.

“I wonder if they will follow us,” mused the captain.

It need only to be recalled that the Sea Eagle on leaving the harbor headed north, and when the captain was satisfied that he was not followed the ship’s course was altered.

“The little Mexican was right. Them boys are looking for the gold,” the captain decided, rubbing his gorilla-like hands together with satisfaction.

The next day, however, when the Sea Eagle had entered San Matteo Bay and Captain Broome discovered the Storm King, he almost exploded with wrath. But the dwarf, who had been standing on the afterdeck, and with a spy-glass watching the other boat, had seen the boys go on shore. His crafty mind had even then conceived a plan of revenge worthy of the arch fiend himself.

Having devised his scheme, the dwarf went at once to Captain Broome, who was on the forward deck directing the stowing away of the stuff that was being transferred from the lugger to the Sea Eagle.

The captain listened attentively as the Mexican unfolded his plan. When the dwarf had concluded, Broome removed his hat and bowed graciously. His only comment was: “I take off my hat to you.”

CHAPTER XII.

TREACHERY.

The Senor had passed an anxious day. He had at first thought of going on board the Sea Eagle and demand surrender of his daughter. But he feared, after the revelation made by Jim, that he would be but placing in Broome’s hands opportunity for further evil.

At four o’clock, therefore, he summoned the innkeeper, who brought from the corral two horses. One the Senor mounted, and leading the other, he started for the arranged place of meeting. Jim and his party were at that moment in hiding, as had been arranged.

The task of loading the Sea Eagle had evidently been completed, and the ship itself, under the influence of the tide which was then running out, was moving very slowly toward the ocean end of the harbor.

With a begrimed and patched sail flapping listlessly, the lugger could be seen riding motionless at anchor.

There was a brief interval of suspense, then there was observed, moving toward the shore from under the lea of the lugger, a small boat. In it were three persons, all well known to Jim. The Senorita sat in the stern, and so was facing them. At the oars was a big fellow with a bristling red moustache, close-cropped hair, and evil looking black eyes. An equally big, red haired woman, Big Annie, the captain’s sister, was in the bow. This woman, as Jim knew from sad experience, was as powerful as a man.

When the boat grounded, Big Annie sprang lightly ashore, and walked rapidly toward the appointed tree under which stood the Senor, holding the bridles of his two horses.

The watching party hidden from observation were not close enough to the Senor to hear what was said by either he or Big Annie when they met. They saw the former take from his saddle bag a heavy package which he gave the woman.

“There is the money!” cried Jim, excitedly.

“Shall we stop them?” asked Juarez.

“No,” answered Jim, “but I fear that he is making a mistake. He was not to give up the money till his daughter was on shore.”

“But you are not going to let them get away with the money, are you?” asked Berwick disgustedly.

“It seems we must,” returned Jim. “At least we must for the present. But I mean to get that later.”

“Huh!” muttered Tom. “There is no time like now.”

“All we can do now,” protested Jim, “is to see that the Senorita is safe. She is still in these villains’ hands, and if we show ourselves, it will be an excuse for them to try to get away with her. That’s what I fear, anyway.”

“See!” called Jo, “the Senor is walking with the woman toward the boat.”

“And he promised me to stay at the tree.”

Jim was wild with anxiety, yet dare not make known his presence. But the opportunity to act was close at hand.

Reaching the shore, the Senor and his daughter were exchanging salutations, while the woman Annie sprang lightly into the boat, and it was then swung about, seemingly to allow the girl to land. The man rose from his seat as if to lend aid. Big Annie took the oars, and immediately, with quickly repeated strokes impelled by her powerful arms, the boat shot away. At the same instant the man grasped the Senorita, holding her before him so as to protect himself from harm should the Senor be armed. This all happened far more quickly than it can be described.

Now, all too late, the party in hiding sprang forward.

“Help! Help!” called the Senorita. “Save me, Senor James!” She had at once recognized him among the party.

It was a desperate situation. The boys were too far away to be of aid. It was impossible to shoot at the man without risking the life of the girl. Twice Jim raised his rifle and let it drop, while the Senorita’s call for help rang in his ears.

The Irishman continued to hold the Senorita as a shield, and the woman, knowing the boys would not shoot her, fiercely swung the oars of the boat, which was headed toward the lugger.

In a few moments Jim and his party were at the shore, where the Senor in desperation raged now that it was all too late, bemoaning his over-confidence and its result.

“What shall we do?” cried Tom.

“Get back to the Storm King as quick as we can,” cried Jim, in a frenzy. “We will run the yacht down and get her if we have to follow them to the end of the world. Come on!”

The boys, headed by Jim, started off on the run, when they were halted by a shout from Juarez.

“Here’s a boat!” he cried.

Half hidden in the bushes which fringed the shore was the little dinghy of the lugger.

To seize the boat and rush it down to the water was but the work of a moment.

“But we haven’t any oars!” cried Tom.

“Here is one. Yes, a pair!” exclaimed Jo, who had been rummaging in the bushes.

“Let me go with you,” pleaded the Senor.

“I am sorry,” replied Jim, “but the boat will only hold three, and some will have to stay on shore. There is serious work ahead of us. We don’t know how many there may be on board the lugger.”

“Then let me be of the party, I implore you! I am an expert marksman, and can hit the eye of the bull at a hundred yards.”

“Good!” cried Jim. “Juarez, you are the best long distance runner amongst us. Will you give the Senor your rifle and run as fast as you can back to the ship and tell the professor to come to our aid with the Storm King?”

Without a word, Juarez handed his rifle to the Senor and was off with a speed that carried him over the ground almost as fast as a horse could gallop.

Leaving Jo and Tom on shore to menace the escaping party with their rifles if there was opportunity, and with Berwick at the oars, the dinghy was headed for the lugger.

Barely had they covered a third the distance when they were surprised to hear a call from the Senorita, and looking in the direction of the sound they discovered her standing alone on board the lugger.

Her captors had disappeared, as they were soon to learn. Having first run under the lea of the lugger, they had aided the Senorita to climb on board, and they themselves keeping the while out of sight of Jim’s party, had rapidly rowed the boat around a point of land and were nowhere to be seen.

That they were to board the Sea Eagle, which was still to be observed dropping down the harbor was doubtless their intent, but why had they surrendered the Senorita? Why taken all the trouble and risk to recapture and put her on board the lugger? It was an enigma for which they were later to find a solution.

Jim and his party lost no time in boarding the lugger. The meeting of father and daughter was affecting, and Jim was covered with confusion by the profuse thanks of the young lady. He beat a hasty retreat to the dinghy, where he was held in conversation for a few minutes by the Senor, then going ashore, he picked up Tom and Jo. He also carried a message to the Senor’s man. His presence in the tree had not proved of service through no fault of his own. He was now ordered to take the horses back to the inn.

On Jim’s return to the lugger he had a further conference with the Senor and told him that in a scouting trip during the afternoon he had run across a party of three, bandits he took them to be, and listening unobserved to their conversation, he had learned of their intention to capture someone.

“Do you know of a Captain Beauchamp?” Jim asked.

“No.”

“May it not be yourself and your daughter that they are after?” Jim asked in conclusion.

The Senor was visibly agitated. “For myself alone I have no fear,” he said, “but, alas, my daughter, and she has already suffered so much.”

“If I could go with you—”

“That’s it,” broke in the Senor, “if you and your brothers will accompany us, we all could be quite safe.”

Jim was complimented by this confidence, and was very loath to hesitate, but his obligations to the professor compelled. He must first refer the matter to him. Then an idea occurred to Jim, another course was suggested.

Would the Senor’s party go on board the Storm King, and when again at sea seek a transfer to some passing merchant ship bound for San Francisco?

The plan well appealed to the Senor, and now the best method of getting on board the Storm King was considered.

While they were talking, as the darkening atmosphere indicated, a storm was brewing, and appeared likely to break very shortly over the hills and bay. The trip by land would be tedious indeed, particularly for the Senorita. The dinghy would carry but three, and Jim thought, too, that every minute lost would prejudice his chances for the recovery of the Sea Eagle. One object of his trip had been accomplished, the rescue of the Senorita. Now his thoughts turned to the Sea Eagle which at that moment was doubtless upon the ocean and headed for Cuba. At least he knew its destination.

The thought occurred to Jim. Why not make use of the lugger on which they now were? Suggestion was promptly followed by action. Under Jim’s direction the anchor was quickly raised, the patchwork sail was trimmed and made secure. If the approaching storm held off a bit they could make the run to the Storm King in short order.

With the relaxation from the intense anxiety of the hours just passed through, the party was indeed a happy one. Even their Nemesis, the villainous Mexican, was forgotten. The Senor and Berwick—the latter was at the helm—found subjects to discuss of mutual interest.

The Senorita, meantime, told Jim of her experience on board the Sea Eagle, where she had been for some time a prisoner, and he related very modestly some of the efforts he had made to rescue her.

It was beyond the dinner hour, but that fact was forgotten. The Senorita, however, was thirsty.

“Was there possibly water on board to drink?”

Jim offered to investigate. He had seen through the hatchway in the dim region of the hold a cask or two. He climbed down a broken ladder to institute a search. The first cask when struck with his boot gave out a sound indicating that it was empty. But there was dimly seen another cask farther aft. Even near the open hatchway it was dark indeed, and the approaching storm made the gloom almost impenetrable.

The second cask was open, the head was out. This fact he determined by feeling about, and reaching down his hand encountered a dry, powdery ingredient. He noted now that there was a dividing partition just aft, on which his hand rested. The partition, he discovered, was hot with an unnatural heat, while the air about him was cool. What was the powdery stuff in the cask? He could not see, but a little held in his hand by sense of smell he recognized. And now a crackling sound beyond the partition wall reached his ear.

The whole picture of their awful position at once flashed upon his mind. The lugger was a veritable trap. They had been beguiled aboard with but one horrible purpose in view. There were people Captain Broome wished to annihilate. The Senor was surely one, Jim and his party the others. The substance in the cask was powder. Doubtless there was more of the same stuff about. The boat was on fire.

With one bound Jim was back to the ladder, and was quickly on deck. The deep intonation of a crash of thunder reverberated through the air, drowning for the moment his voice. Jo saw his blanched face and knew that something unusual had happened.

There was no uncertainty in Jim’s commands.

“Quick! Instantly, Senor! Your daughter and Berwick into the dinghy! Ask no questions. We have not a moment to lose!”

Even as he spoke he was drawing the dinghy alongside, Jo springing to his aid.

“Tom, put into the boat the guns and the Senorita’s handbag! Now, quick, Berwick, man the oars! Row with all your might away from this boat!”

No one had uttered a sound. Jim’s white face showed there must be motive back of his command, and instant action followed. Quickly those ordered to do so had taken their place in the boat.

“You are not going to stay and face the danger, whatever it is, alone?” questioned Berwick. The oars were even then bending to the first stroke of his powerful effort. Jim deigned no reply.

“Tom, Jo, into the water both of you, and swim with the boat!”

Such is the value of quick obedience to command. With no explanation and without a single question both sprang into the waters of the bay, followed by Jim himself.

“What’s it all about?” Jo finally gasped.

“Not yet. Not yet,” repeated Jim, but even as he spoke there came from the lugger the sound of a most terrible scream. Human voice could not give utterance to sound more horrible. All the party in the boat and the swimmers in the water turned toward the direction from which it came to note the cause.

At the cabin window in the stern of the abandoned vessel was a face distorted by agony. The person’s arms were flung wildly about. It was the Mexican dwarf. He it was who had planned the trap in which he now found himself caught. He had set fire to the lugger and was intending to make his escape in the dinghy. The scream had come when he realized that his one avenue of escape was cut off, that his plot had miscarried.

Even as the horrified observers noted the conditions there came an appalling, thunderous crash. Debris filled the air. The old lugger and the evil face at the window were gone—gone, forever.

The storm so long delayed broke now in all its fury. Jim’s party were safe, and thankful for their preservation, but in a rather dubious predicament, although it was really no more wet in the water than in the boat. Each of the boys rested a hand on the gunwhale of the little craft and discussed their next move. The problem was soon solved for them. Juarez, together with the steward from the ship, rowing the long boat was seen approaching.

On board the Storm King, the rescued party when they arrived were made comfortable. Jim learned that the Sea Eagle had been quietly maneuvered down the harbor, and under close reefed sail had disappeared into the obscurity of the storm.

Jim’s disappointment was keen, but he felt that he had much to be thankful for, and was not the Senorita, herself, a member of the party for a time at least?