A PARLEY.
For the rest of the night the quest was kept up. It was morning before
anything worthy of note was discovered.
Then Frank in the pilot-house flashing the light into the far depths
gave a sudden start.
The object which met his gaze was certainly one well worthy of attention
and interest.
He saw several forms groping about at the base of a small reef. He knew
at once from their shape that they were not marine animals.
“On my word!” he cried, “here’s a go!”
In a moment Clifford and Hartley were by his side.
“What is it?” cried the latter.
“Look!”
Frank pointed to the distant objects. A startled exclamation burst from
the lips of both men.
“Well I’m beat!” gasped Clifford; “they are human beings.”
“Divers!” exclaimed Hartley.
“Nothing more nor less,” said Frank. “It is quite likely that the
Aurelian is just overhead.”
“That is the whole story!” cried Clifford. “They are looking for the
Donna Veneta.”
Frank put on more speed.
“Well,” he said shortly, “let us run down and interview them!”
“Correct,” said Clifford. “We will ask a bit of an explanation.”
The divers were apparently astonished at the sudden radiance of the
searchlight. They stood in a group waiting for developments.
As the submarine boat came rushing down they seemed alarmed, but Frank
showed himself at the pilot-house windows, and made conciliatory
gestures.
The submarine boat came to a halt not ten yards from the divers. No sign
of the Donna Veneta’s wreck was visible anywhere.
“Get on a diving suit, Barney!” cried Frank. “Go out and ask them what
they are doing here.”
“All roight, sor!”
Barney hastened to obey orders. But before he could leave the boat, the
divers gave the signal and were pulled up rapidly to the surface.
Frank instantly reversed the tank lever. The Dolphin began to rise.
“Where are you going, Frank?” asked Clifford in surprise.
“To the surface!”
“What for?”
“I want to see whether these men are from the Aurelian or not.”
“Good!”
The Dolphin sprung up out of the deep sea. All was daylight and the sun
was well up toward the meridian.
A vessel lay to not one hundred yards distant. There were a group of men
leaning over her rail and apparently hauling up something on lines.
These, of course, were the divers. A moment later they were pulled
safely over the rail.
Frank instantly sailed nearer the Aurelian, for she it was, and made
signals.
In response a man appeared in the shrouds. He was at once recognized. It
was Gilbert Parker.
“There is the old chap himself!” cried Cecil.
“Let us see what he has to say,” said Frank, as he stepped out on the
deck.
It was but a moment’s work to answer the hail of Parker. The latter’s
words were pitched in a snarling key.
“What do you want?”
“We want to have a talk with you!” cried Frank. “Come over in a small
boat. You will be safe.”
“I have no business that I wish to transact with you.”
“Ah, but it may be to your interest to talk with us,” returned Frank.
“You had better grant us an interview.”
A snarling, unintelligible reply came back. Then a boat put out from the
Aurelian’s side and was rowed swiftly alongside the Dolphin.
Gilbert Parker and a dark-browed man stood in the bow. They stepped out
on the Dolphin’s deck.
“Captain Warren,” said Parker, with a peculiar smile, as he exchanged
salutes and introduced his companion, “he is the present sailing master
of the Aurelian.”
Then he turned abruptly to Frank and said:
“What are you doing here?”
Frank gazed keenly at the old rascal for a moment, and then replied with
deliberation:
“We are in search of the sunken galleon Donna Veneta. What are you here
for?”
Parker’s gaze shifted, but he managed to make reply:
“We are here for the same purpose.”
“Do you think your course has been an honorable one?” asked Frank
cuttingly.
“To the victor belongs the spoils!” was the evasive but bold reply.
“How did you know where to look for the galleon?”
“Did I not see the diagram?”
“Did you not steal it?”
“Do you mean to insult me?” snapped Parker, angrily.
“I mean to speak plainly and truthfully to you,” said Frank firmly; “the
diagram disappeared that very night that it was shown to you!”
“Very substantial evidence of my guilt,” sneered Parker; “did any one
see me take it?”
“It matters not whether any one saw you take it or not,” declared Frank,
“the fact remains that you knew where to look for the sunken galleon,
and you could not have done so without some means of guidance.”
Parker grinned impudently.
“Well,” he said, “have I not as good a right to the gold as you?”
“No,” replied Frank, “the gold belongs rightfully to Mr. Clifford, who
discovered the records of its existence. You prove yourself a thief by
your underhand methods in trying to get it.”
“You dare to call me a thief?” cried Parker hotly.
“You are worse than a thief! You are capable of any crime!”
Something in Frank’s steely eye held the villain at bay. He glared at
him madly for some moments, and then said:
“I do not intend that anybody else shall recover that treasure. I have
come down into these waters for it and I intend to find it. If you
interfere with me I shall blow you into atoms. You may take the
warning!”
“Really,” said Frank, with a smile. “You are quite a bully, Mr. Parker.
Be sure of your strength before you venture to make threats. As for the
Donna Veneta’s gold it is not a certainty that it can ever be found or
recovered by either of us. However, if it is found we shall claim it by
right of Mr. Clifford’s just claim, and you will not dare to deny it.
Let this terminate the interview. Good-day!”
Frank turned on his heel and went into the cabin.
Parker stood a moment the personification of rage and hatred. Then he
shook his fist at Frank’s retreating form, and hissed:
“We shall see! Gilbert Parker never fails. Beware!”
With which he turned and stepped into his own boat. He was rowed back to
the Aurelian.
Frank, in the pilot-house, closed the doors, and then pressed the lever
which caused the Dolphin to sink.
Down she settled rapidly until finally she rested upon the sandy bottom
of the sea.
“Now,” he said, “we will proceed to search for the Donna Veneta.”
“If it is our good fortune to find the galleon’s gold, is there not
danger that we may have trouble with Parker?” asked Clifford.
“I don’t see how he can trouble us!” said Frank. “We are out of his way
and can keep so. If I were so inclined I could sink his ship now.”
“It would be a mercy!” declared Hartley. “I have no grudge against the
ship. It is only the owner!”
“Wait!” said Frank decidedly. “You will see that his fate will yet
overtake him. I have never seen it fail. Rascality is bound to meet its
just reward!”
Preparations were made for renewing the search for the galleon.
As full two hundred years had elapsed since she had gone to the bottom,
it was likely that she was buried somewhat in the sand.
This drifting for two centuries over her hull might indeed have
completely covered her up.
The only way, therefore, to make sure of her discovery was to search for
some part of her rigging or hull, which might yet project itself above
the sand, or at least the finding of some object which might guide them
as to her exact location.
To be sure this seemed somewhat like looking for a needle in a haystack,
but yet the search was carried on.
Barney and Clifford were selected to accompany Frank. Pomp and Hartley
were to manipulate the searchlight aboard the Dolphin.
And thus the quest, began.
Donning their diving suits, the three searchers left the Dolphin. They
made their way over the sandy floor armed with spades.
It was a close and careful search which they proceeded to
And after wandering some distance from the Dolphin, Frank made the first
important discovery.
He saw an object wedged in a projecting spur of coral. He extricated and
examined it.
It was the rusted hilt of a sword. But little was left of the ivory
grip, but the steel and gold frame was intact.
In an instant Barney and Clifford were by his side.
They placed their helmets together and Clifford shouted:
“You have made a discovery of value, Frank.”
“Yes, I think I have,” replied the young inventor.
“Perhaps the ship is right under us at this moment?”
“I think it would be well to dig down a bit and see what is beneath us,”
said Frank.
“Whurro! Here goes thin!” cried Barney, thrusting his spade into the
sand. He turned up a spadeful.
Then his spade struck something solid. An object was brought to view. It
was stationary.
“What is it?” asked Clifford.
Frank bent down and examined it. Then he arose and said:
“It is the stump of a ship’s mast. On my word, friends, I believe the
galleon lies buried beneath us.”