FURY OF A MOB
True to his word, Captain Carter set all the Scout equipment ashore
before dawn the next morning. The various boxes were delivered to the
hotel, and a careful inspection satisfied Mr. Livingston and the
Explorers that nothing was missing.
Of the captain, no more was seen. Following the unfortunate affair
aboard the _Shark_, the officer carefully avoided the party.
“But don’t think we’ve heard the last of him,” Mr. Livingston predicted.
“He’ll pop up when we least expect him and make trouble! I’ll be glad
when we’re well away from this village.”
Intent upon making a start on the trip inland, the Scout leader absented
himself from the hotel most of the morning. He conferred for several
hours with Father Francisco, obtaining maps and a great deal of useful
information.
As for the Explorers, they whiled away their time at the village and the
waterfront. Always, the _Shark_ drew their eyes like a magnet. The
vessel remained at anchor, rolling in the swells, but there was no
evidence of activity aboard.
“Wonder what Captain Carter will do now that we’ve turned down a deal
with him?” Willie speculated.
No one answered. In fact, the attention of the others had been diverted
to the narrow strip of beach. The tide was very nearly at its high
point, coming in strong.
Jack halted abruptly, staring at a pile of debris which had been washed
up some distance away.
“Wow! Are we in a jam!” he exclaimed in dismay. “See what’s lying on the
beach!”
“Where?” demanded Warwick, squinting into the bright sunlight.
Jack pointed up shore to a pile of rocks, against which giant
greenish-blue waves were smashing.
“I still don’t see anything.”
“Then you sure need glasses! If that isn’t a box, I’m losing my own
eyesight!”
“Jack’s right!” Ken exclaimed. “It is a box, and what’s worse, it looks
like one of ours. Or rather, one of Carter’s that was stamped with the
Scout name.”
“Golly, gee!” War cried. “How could it be? All of those boxes with
ammunition and guns were sunk to the bottom of the bay!”
“The bay is shallow at this point,” Jack reminded him. “And the tide is
coming in strong.”
“Ye fishes!” Willie muttered in consternation. “Suppose that is one of
the boxes with the Scout name on it! Then what?”
“Captain Carter will get his!” War chortled. “Those custom officials
will have proof that he was lying when he denied dumping the stuff last
night!”
“They’ll also see our name printed on the boxes,” Jack reminded the
group. “We’re almost certain to be involved.”
“And that would mean we can’t get out of Cuertos tomorrow,” added Ken.
“As things stand now, Mr. Livingston practically has everything
arranged.”
“We’d better find out if that is one of our boxes,” Jack declared,
starting off across the beach. “Come on!”
Walking fast and dodging waves which washed high on the pebbles, they
reached the rock pile. A water-soaked, battered box lay partially buried
in wet sand.
“It’s one that Captain Carter dumped last night!” Jack asserted, turning
it over. “What wretched luck that it had to wash up here!”
“And another is coming in!” War exclaimed, sighting a container which
was rolling and twisting in the heavy sea.
The wave broke on the sand, leaving its telltale debris behind. War
waded through ankle-deep water to drag the second box high on the beach.
“What’ll we do with ’em?” he asked.
“If these boxes are found here, custom officials are certain to hear
about it,” Ken declared in a worried voice. “We don’t dare let the stuff
lie.”
Quickly he scanned the deserted beach. No one was in sight.
“We could hide ’em—” he suggested slowly.
“Hap might not approve,” Jack replied. “On the other hand, he told the
customs men the truth and they accepted his word. Now if we produce this
evidence to nail Captain Carter, there’s no telling what wild story
he’ll come up with to save his skin.”
“We know he’ll try to involve us deeply,” Ken asserted. “He warned us
he’ll make trouble if he can. I’m in favor of hiding the boxes. We can
tell Hap later, and if he wants us to dig them up, we’ll have to do it.”
“Okay, let’s get at it!” jack consented. “No time to lose.”
Quickly the four Rovers dragged the two boxes to a small dune which rose
in front of the dark cliff. Working fast, they dug deep holes and buried
the ammunition. Then they smoothed out their own footprints left on the
sand.
“Well, that’s done!” Willie said, wiping perspiration from his forehead.
“Think anyone saw us?”
“I dunno,” War returned, scanning the cliffs above the beach. “A native
woman has been standing there for a minute or two.”
“It’s that old gal with the parrot,” Ken recognized her. “She’s watching
us all right!”
“Think she saw us bury the boxes?” Jack asked uneasily.
“It’s hard to tell.”
“Even if she did, she wouldn’t know what was in ’em,” Willie said,
taking the cheerful view. “Let’s move off before she gets suspicious.”
Accepting his advice, the others sauntered casually along the shore.
However, as they walked, they kept an alert gaze upon the cliff, and
they also watched the sea for evidence of other boxes.
“That native woman is leaving,” Ken presently reported in an undertone.
“We won’t need to be so careful now.”
Selecting a spot not far from the dune where the contraband cargo had
been buried, the four Rovers sat down to watch the sea.
By this time, the tide definitely had turned. While Ken, Willie and War
rested, Jack made a quick tour of the beach. He returned shortly to
report that the other boxes apparently had not washed ashore.
“They may roll up tomorrow, or maybe never,” he declared.
“Captain Carter sure would get a big kick out of this,” Willie remarked.
“He’d consider it a huge joke on us. It certainly goes against my grain
to do him a favor.”
“We’re doing ourselves a bigger one,” Ken pointed out. “If we don’t get
out of Cuertos soon, I have a hunch our expedition will stall for good!”
“Maybe Father Francisco is right,” War remarked thoughtfully. “Maybe it
is foolish for us to try to find Burton Monahan. If he’s been gone so
many months, he must be dead.”
“Hey, listen!” Willie suddenly exclaimed.
The others became silent. A peculiar sound, distinguishable as the hum
of many angry voices, plainly could be heard.
“What’s up?” Jack muttered, scrambling to his feet.
At first the Explorers could see no one. Then they sighted at least
thirty villagers armed with clubs, coming down a steep cliff trail.
“A regular mob!” War observed nervously. “Heading this way too!”
“Toward us,” added Willie. “Say, they mean business!”
“There’s that parrot woman who was watching us,” Jack said, recognizing
her amid the angry throng. “She’s stirred up the natives against us!”
“But why?” Ken demanded. “Did she see us bury the boxes?”
“She may have,” Jack replied. “Anyway, she’s Carter’s friend. He may be
behind this!”
“We’ll have some tall explaining to do in a minute or so,” Ken said.
“How’s you’re Spanish, Jack?”
“Not equal to that gang! They’re out for blood!”
Even as he spoke, a stone was hurled from above. It clattered down over
the cliff, barely missing Willie’s head.
“Let’s get out of here fast!” he proposed.
A shower of stones now was falling on the beach. To remain was to invite
injury.
“Hey, I don’t want to run,” War protested, holding back. “We’ve done
nothing wrong. We can explain—”
“Listen, brother!” Jack said, grasping him by the arm. “You can’t
explain anything to a crazy mob.”
“Especially when you can’t speak the language decently,” Ken added
urgently.
The villagers now were very close, led by the chattering parrot woman.
Shaking their sticks, the natives shouted ugly threats.
“Come on!” urged Jack, leading the flight. “We’ve got to move out of
here fast! Unless we do, our escape will be cut off!”