A MIDNIGHT COMPACT CONCERNING THE BLACK PIRATE
It was about two weeks before the Easter vacation would come on, and
Hal and Tom would be free to start for Anclote Island in the _Three
Sisters_. But the services of Captain Joe having been retained, the
preparations for stocking the schooner with provisions and camp
equipage went on from day to day. So interested did the boys become in
this that the excursion to Perdido was abandoned. A week from the day
Bob and Tom returned from Newark, Bob was to go to Tampa by rail. His
mother was arranging to go with him.
Jerry Blossom’s acquisition of a fortune had turned the colored boy’s
head. But, before he could make any great inroads on his share of the
ten thousand dollars, his mother managed to secure it. Thereafter, the
improvident Jerry was furnished only such sums as his frugal parent
thought he needed. His preliminary inroad on his funds, however, had
resulted in an outfit of gorgeous clothing and a gold plated watch,
which, with one evening’s “crap” shooting, had deprived fat Mrs.
Blossom of sixty-five dollars.
When Jerry settled down to a realization that his great fortune was
beyond his control and had lost his new watch in gambling, it was
nearly time for Bob and Mrs. Balfour to start for Tampa. In the two
weeks since the colored boy had come into funds, he had thought little
about Anclote Island. Suddenly he realized that it would be better to
reengage with the club and get the benefit of “board and keep” at small
pay than to remain in town with his mother’s hand fast about the purse
strings of his fortune.
For reasons which he did not quite understand, Bob had somehow come to
be looked on as the real leader of the club. The evening before Bob
left for Tampa, the doleful-faced colored boy waited for him after the
usual meeting broke up.
“Mistah Bob,” began Jerry, diplomatically doffing his hat, “Ah done
reckon Ah bettah seek out some employment, even if Ah is a rich man.”
“Aren’t you going with the boys on the schooner?” asked Bob.
“Ah ain’t been ’proached ’bout no contrac’,” replied Jerry. “Ah reckon
mah ole frien’s done calklate Ah’s too rich to wuk.”
“Oh, I guess not, Jerry,” said Bob, laughing. “But I’ll speak to the
boys.”
Jerry did not seem wholly reassured. He shambled along hesitatingly a
little way, and then went on:
“Ah am ’bliged to you all, Mistah Bob, but dat ain’t prezackly all Ah
wants to say. Dis money Ah got done been havin’ a pow’ful ’fluence on
me. Ah’s been havin’ big dreams ’bout money fo’ three nights. Yas, sah!”
“Dreams about money?” asked Bob, laughing again. “I guess we’ve all had
dreams of that kind.”
“Ain’t no one had no dreams like Ah been havin’,” explained Jerry
soberly, shaking his head. “Ah been havin’ dreams ’at’s visions. Ah
been seein’ things.”
“What have you been seein’?” asked Bob, slowing up his steps.
Jerry took the white boy by the arm, and, although it was late and the
streets were practically deserted, he whispered:
“Three nights, Mistah Bob, a ole pirate man wif a long sword and two
big pistols done walk straight through de wall o’ mah room an’ say――”
Bob laughed and started ahead.
“Hol’ on, Mistah Bob,” exclaimed Jerry earnestly. “Dis ole pirate wif
de long sword, he’s a colored pirate. Yas, sah, black as mah ole mammy.”
“Well,” said Bob, scenting at once some new fabrication of Jerry’s
fertile brain, “what _did_ the colored pirate say?”
“He say,” went on Jerry solemnly, “he say: ‘Black boy, Ah been watchin’
yo’.’ Yas, sah,” explained Jerry hastily. “Dem ole spooks kin shorely
watch yo’ thouten yo’ seein’ ’em. De ole pirate he say: ‘Black boy, Ah
been watchin’ yo’. Ah done selec’ yo’ fo’ to tell yo’ whar Ah buried
mah gold’.”
“And did he?” interrupted Bob, with a smile.
The sharp-eyed Jerry saw he had made his point. In his ignorant way, he
realized that the romantically inclined Bob liked nothing better than
these stories of buried treasure and pirates.
“Did he?” repeated Jerry significantly. “Dat ole pirate Ah reckon was
de onliest colored pirate in de worl’. He say: ‘Black boy, yo’ ain’t
gwine to know how come it so, but yo’ alls is related to we alls. Yo’
is my heir’.”
“So you are descended from a cut-throat villain?” exclaimed Bob, with
mock seriousness. “Heir of a bloody pirate?”
“Ah cain’t hep dat,” urged Jerry. “But dem’s his words. An’ he say:
‘Black boy, dar’s gold and jewels waitin’ fo’ yo’; dar’s a big box o’
buried treasure waitn’ fo’ yo’――’”
“Where, Jerry, where?” exclaimed Bob, with well assumed impetuousness.
But Jerry shook his head.
“Mah relation pirate he done make me swear on his razor sword Ah ain’t
gwine to tell no one ’bout dat place ’till Ah gets mah hands on de box.
No, sah, no one. Ah done sweared it on de sword. If Ah breave it, dat
ole pirate man say he gwine come an’ cut off mah haid wif de sword.”
“Oh, I see,” said Bob. “Well, I wish you luck, Jerry.”
For a moment, Jerry was silent. Then, scratching his woolly head, he
said:
“Mistah Bob, Ah cain’t tell ’bout de big trees whar dat box is buried.
But Ah ain’t gwine dig up dat box when de moon’s full――like Ah’s
instructed――all by mahsef. Ah’s got de directions all wrote down, jes’
lak de ole pirate done told ’em to me, whisperin’ an’ a shakin’ his
big sword ’at’s got blood on it. Ah wants a partner――mebbe two or three
so we don’t take no resk.”
The diplomatic Jerry paused, while Bob could hardly conceal his
amusement. At last, Bob said, half regretfully:
“I’m sorry, Jerry, that the treasure isn’t over on Anclote Island or
near by. Then we could all be partners――”
“Das whar it is,” broke in Jerry. “Ah reckon Ah done got to pay my way
over dar on de railroad cahs.”
Without laughing, Bob said:
“Jerry, if you won’t take any one else as a partner, I’ll see that you
are hired to go to Anclote Island on the _Three Sisters_. Then you and
I will sneak out some night and dig up the Black Pirate’s treasure.”
Jerry’s relief and satisfaction were as apparent as his white teeth.
“Ah reckon dat’s a faih bargain, Mistah Bob. Leastways, Ah am
agreeable. On’y,” and his face sobered again, “de ole man wif de sword
he says: ‘Black boy, de mostest o’ dat gold is yo’s.’ Ah reckon he
calklate Ah ain’t gwine to squandah it. But Ah’ll be faih. Ah’ll gib
you some of it. But Ah cain’t give no half of it.”
“How much will I get?” asked Bob, with apparent eagerness.
“Oh, ’bout ten or twenty thousand dollahs,” answered Jerry
indifferently.
“That’s fair enough,” concluded Bob. “It’s a go. But don’t tell Tom or
the other boys. I’ll see that you go along. You can count on that. But
you’ll have to pretend to be working for us.”
Bob and Jerry had now reached the former’s boarding house.
The colored boy hesitated, ran his hands in his pockets, and then said:
“Shorely, Mistah Bob, dat’ll be agreeable.” Then he lowered his voice:
“Yo’ ain’t got no change ’bout yo’, is yo’, Mistah Bob? Ah done fergit
to go to de bank to-day, an’ Ah needs a couple o’ dollahs.”
Without even a smile, Bob searched his pockets and found a single
dollar.
“You can pay me back, Jerry,” he said soberly, “when we open the Black
Pirate’s box. Good night, and don’t tell our secret.”
A few minutes later, Bob was dreaming of big oak trees, moonlight
shadows beneath them, kinky haired African outlaws and Spanish
pieces-of-eight. At the same time, his new partner was down behind
the Creole Coffee House playing “craps” with a half dozen colored
stevedores, who relieved the Munchausen-like Jerry of his borrowed
dollar with all the celerity of the most skilled pirate of the deep.
The next day was a busy one. And, at the last moment, many of the
plans were changed. As the result of long and urgent petitions, Tom
and Hal secured vacations of ten days. But even those, as the time for
setting out approached, were found to be far too short to permit the
execution of all that the boys hoped to do. The distance from Pensacola
to Anclote Keys was at least two hundred and seventy miles. Even with
a fair wind, the _Three Sisters_ could not be expected to cover the
distance in less than two days. Two days for a return trip left less
than a week on the island.
“It ain’t worth the money and trouble, just for that,” growled Hal.
Bob finally suggested that Tom and Hal follow him by rail, and that
Mac, Jerry Blossom and Captain Romano set out in the _Three Sisters_
at once. The schooner would then have a week to reach the islands,
set up a camp, and, leaving either Mac or Jerry in charge, sail the
sixty-five miles to Tampa City, and report to Bob. When Tom and Hal
reached Tampa, they would help start Bob or Tom or both on the flight
of the aeroplane to the island, and the one left behind could return to
the island on the schooner.
This idea met universal approval. Mac and Jerry could leave at any
time. That afternoon, every member of the club worked valiantly in
shipping the last of the _Three Sisters’_ cargo――which was by no means
a light one――and when Bob left the wharf at four o’clock to prepare for
his railroad journey, Captain Romano said he was ready to sail. The
hour of his departure was set at five o’clock the next morning.
Mrs. Balfour was almost as keen for the trip to Tampa as Bob, and, when
the St. Augustine night express drew out of the station at six o’clock,
she fluttered her handkerchief as vigorously as Bob waved his cap at
the boys left on the depot platform. At five o’clock the next morning,
Sunday, Tom and Hal gave the same farewells to the _Three Sisters_ as
she fell away from the wharf before the fresh new day breeze. Then the
two doleful boys left behind began to count the minutes until the next
Friday evening when the third section of the momentous excursion would
be off.
Before noon of Sunday, Bob and his mother were comfortably installed
in apartments in one of the great Tampa Bay resort hotels. Bob figured
that Captain Joe and the _Three Sisters_ would probably reach Tampa Bay
Thursday evening or Friday morning. The Captain was to report to Bob at
his hotel at once. Tom and Hal would arrive at noon on Saturday. The
aeroplane must be ready at that time. With five days in which to set
up the airship, Bob started out Monday morning to locate his precious
crates and bundles and to select a suitable aerodrome.
The aeroplane consignment was found in the freight depot. The securing
of a secluded place, protected and large enough to permit the putting
together of his thirty-nine-foot wide air craft was not so easy. After
several hours of fruitless search, Bob made his way to a machine shop,
had a conference with the superintendent, and for five dollars a day,
employed a bright young mechanic to “assist him in setting up a motor”.
With Gabe Rice’s help――after Bob had confided to Gabe his real object
under a pledge of secrecy――the two boys found a place fairly well
suited to their needs. Just north of the city, on the Hillsborough
River, they came across an abandoned, half demolished cigar factory.
In the rear, an unfenced open ground ran down to the river. Within the
building, with double doors opening on the cleared space, was a room
that had been used for the storage of tobacco.
The room would afford sufficient shelter for the unpacked boxes and
crates and when Gabe volunteered to spend the nights there, Bob
decided the place would do. Bob found the owner the next morning. This
gentleman refused to rent the place until he too was imparted the
secret. Then, in a burst of enthusiasm, he told Bob to use the place
free of charge. But Bob knew that the pay would come in more than one
visit from the gratified owner.
That evening, Bob and Gabe worked until the sun was low, clearing out
the storeroom and leveling all the inequalities on the slope toward the
river, for the aeroplane used no starting weights, requiring a smooth,
level bit of ground of from seventy-five to one hundred yards to get
under way.
Thursday morning, a dray was secured and after two trips the
dismembered car, its carefully protected adjuncts and its oiled
tarpaulin-covered motor crate were safely stowed in the storeroom. Gabe
remaining in charge, Bob made another trip with the dray and purchased
enough gasoline for a week’s flying. Two tanks of this, with a supply
of engine oil, were intended for the scene of his coming work, while
the remainder was set aside to be conveyed to Anclote Island on the
_Three Sisters_. When the dray returned to the yards again, it also
carried a cot for Gabe’s use and a hastily secured luncheon.
This disposed of, the great task was before the two boys. With screw
driver, wrench and hammer, the crates were attacked.
Type No. 1 of the American Aeroplane Company’s air vehicle represented
all the tested and approved heavier-than-air flying machine ideas.
Nothing in it but what, in some form of aeroplane, had been
successfully used.
“That’s why we selected the No. 1,” explained Bob to Gabe. “We’re all
amateurs. When we’ve exhausted the possibilities of this machine, it
will be time for us to take chances with the advanced types.”
“How fast’ll she go?” asked Gabe.
“’Bout forty miles in a pinch,” answered Bob.
“In a day?” continued Gabe.
“In an hour,” laughed Bob. “Maybe faster.”
“That ain’t any part o’ my job, is it?” gasped the astonished young
mechanic.
“Not till you see her,” answered Bob laughing. “And then you’ll be
beggin’ for a ride.”