only one explanation. They had taken him for Grenville Ford. The sooner
he could get away from the open reaches of the river the safer.
He jammed the throttle of the outboard on full and his boat leaped
ahead. Risking a sand bar, Tim cut the comers close and before the
amphibian could swing back upstream he was safely hidden under the
shelter of heavy foliage from the bank.
CHAPTER NINE
In the Valley
From his temporary place of refuge Tim watched the amphibian circle
over the valley. They were hunting for his hiding place and he pulled
his boat in closer to shore where the dense foliage would effectually
screen him from the eyes of the observers above.
For fifteen minutes the big plane soared overhead. Then as quickly as
it had come it vanished upstream and Tim guessed that it was going to
Auburn to learn exact directions for reaching the island of Crazy John.
Once sure that he was safe from the amphibian for the time being, Tim
started his engine and chugged away from his refuge. The water of the
bayou into which he turned was quiet, but there was the hidden menace
of snags and Tim was compelled to move forward slowly.
Another bayou opened off the first and then another. At each one Tim
directed his boat toward the right and each time he stood up and
shouted lustily. There was no response.
The water was shallow now; not more than two feet deep. Rank water
grasses waved above the surface but through them there was a definite
watercourse and Tim followed this, stopping from time to time to repeat
his shouts.
Nosing through a thick clump of the water grass, he came into a stretch
of open water at the far end of which was a ramshackle dock.
Tim shut off his outboard, lifted the motor into his boat, and set his
oars into their sockets. With steady strokes he pulled toward the
island. A hundred yards from the dock he let his oars drag, turned
toward the island, cupped his hands, and shouted mightily.
"Hello, there on the island," he cried. "Hello! hello!"
But the only response was the mocking echoes. Tim waited a full minute;
then proceeded slowly toward the dock. Once more he rested on the oars
and called. This time the baying of dogs answered and two huge beasts
came galloping down to the water's edge. Teeth bared, they waited for
him to come ashore.
Tim had no intention of providing a meal for the dogs, and he kept a
safe distance from shore. For five minutes the dogs snapped and snarled
at him. Then they were silent and two men appeared from the tangle of
brush.
Grenville Ford was in the lead with an older man, greatly stooped,
behind him.
"What do you want?" called Ford.
"I'm Tim Murphy of the Atkinson _News_. Let me come ashore."
"Nobody lands here, mate," boomed the man behind Ford, and Tim was
surprised at the vigor of the tone. Crazy John, from his voice, was
anything but a weakling despite the stoop in his shoulders.
"What was all the shooting a few minutes ago?" asked Ford cautiously.
"Fellow by the name of Jack Sladek who landed at Atkinson last night
was flying over the river in an amphibian," replied Tim. "He took a few
shots at me and I've an idea he thought he was shooting at you."
"He probably did," agreed Ford. "Well, since you've come this far you
might as well come ashore. I see you discovered that 'Mr. Seven' was
just an assumed name."
"I didn't find out until last night and then with the coming of Sladek,
things commenced to click. You know what I'm after."
Ford nodded. "You want a story about my plans to hunt for the treasure
in the _Southern Queen_?"
"Right. The fact that both you and Sladek are here in this valley is
enough to make a rattling good story. I'd rather have facts but if I
can't get them I'll have to do a little guess work and I've a hunch I
can come pretty close at that. Crazy John came to the valley nine or
ten years ago and the Southern Queen disappeared eleven years ago."
"And you think Crazy John knows where the Queen sunk and that both
Sladek and myself are after the information?"
"Right again."
Ford laughed. "I'll confess I admire your nerve. Of course you knew the
reputation Crazy John has for shooting anyone who prowls around his
island."
"I knew that," grinned Tim, "but I hadn't figured on being shot at from
an airplane. That was a little uncomfortable."
"Pull your boat in," said Ford. Then, turning to the former sailor, he
added. "It's all right, John. This young man is a friend of mine. We
may need his help before the night is over."
Tim made his boat fast at the dock and followed Ford and Crazy John up
a twisting path. The dogs, mongrel hounds, trailed behind them. On a
slight elevation in the middle of the island was Crazy John's house, a
rambling structure of logs and timber that had been salvaged from the
river. Vines softened the bareness of the house. Inside it was livable,
the floor of hard beaten clay swept clean, with a huge fireplace taking
one whole wall. On the opposite side opened two cubicles which were
used for sleeping quarters.
Crazy John puffed slowly at his pipe. "They don't lose much time," he
said as the sound of an airplane came faintly over the bayou.
"Sladek's a fast worker," conceded Ford. "I hardly believed he would be
able to follow me here. If he finds you, he'll do anything to get the
secret of the Southern Queen."
"He won't find me," said Crazy John. "There's half a hundred places I
can hide in the valley."
The sound of the airplane was nearer and they stepped out of the cabin.
The amphibian was in sight but low and on the other side of the valley.
"He's going to land." said Tim. "There's a long stretch of clear water
over there."
"He'll never be able to taxi that big flying boat up this bayou," added
Ford. "It will be an hour before they can get here. Did Sladek have his
usual gunmen with him?"
"Two beside the pilot," said Tim.
"I'm not afraid of a fight," went on Ford, "but there is no use in
getting into trouble if it can be avoided. We'll leave the island at
once and John can find one of the refuges he speaks about."
"Good idea," said the old sailor. "I'll tell you how to find another
way out of the bayou."
Crazy John went into the cabin to pick up a few belongings he wanted to
take and Tim had a chance to speak to Ford.
"Do I get the story?" he asked.
"If we get out of this all right, I'll do the best I can," promised
Ford.
Tim had to be satisfied with that, for it was imperative that they get
away from the island.
Crazy John reappeared, this time with a duffle bag, and he set off down
the path ahead of them. He tossed his bag in Tim's boat and climbed in.
"Where's your boat?" Tim asked Ford.
"It's half way around the island. We'll pick it up on our way out."
With experienced hands, the old sailor started the outboard and they
shot out into the shallow bayou. With a skill born of long acquaintance
with the river, Crazy John guided the boat between snags and always
found safe water. They nosed into a cove and picked up Ford's boat,
which they took in tow.
From the river itself they could hear the thunder of the motors of the
amphibian as the pilot taxied it up and down stream hunting for the
opening of the bayou which led to Crazy John's island.
"Good thing they're not in the air. They'd spot us in a minute," said
Ford.
"We could get under cover in a minute," said Tim.
"You mean we might be able to," Ford's finger touched the splintered
seat at the rear of the boat. "Next time they might not miss." Crazy
John shut off the motor and the boat drifted toward a sand pit. It
grated gently on the bottom and came to rest.
"I'm getting out here," said the old sailor.
"You're sure you've got everything you need?" The question was directed
to Ford and Tim caught the intentness with which Crazy John spoke.
"Everything," said Ford. "Sure you won't change your mind?"
Crazy John's face took on a stony look and his eyes wandered over the
valley.
"I won't change," he said. "This is my home. I'm satisfied. That gold
is cursed. You'll be lucky to get back alive."
"I'll get back all right," promised Ford, "and you'll get your share."
"You'll need good men. Better take this lad. He's the kind you can
trust." Crazy John extended his hand to Ford, then swung his bag over
his shoulder and stalked off along the sand bar. Soon he was lost in
the undergrowth.
When Ford turned around, Tim caught a gleam of moisture in his eyes and
his hands trembled a little.
The flying reporter bent down and started the outboard. The shadows
were lengthening and they must find a safe haven for the night.
For an hour they followed the directions Crazy John had given them,
keeping always in the backwater of the great river. Then they nosed out
toward the main channel. The sound of the motors of the amphibian had
long since been lost and twilight was enfolding the valley.
The globe trotter came back and sat in the seat just ahead, facing Tim.
"We'd better hunt a camp site," he said. "It's impossible to make
Auburn tonight."
"I've got plenty of food and blankets," said Tim.
"There's a supply in my boat, too," nodded Ford. "Let's turn off the
main river now."
Tim sent the boat twisting around the sand bars and toward the mouth of
a stream on the right bank. Trees met above the smaller stream and 200
yards up its valley they found a small clearing richly carpeted with
grass.
"This is fine," said Ford. "We ought to find a spring somewhere in the
bluffs back of us."
While Tim made the boats fast and unloaded the duffle, Ford took a
water jug and went in search of water. By the time he was back, Tim had
a fire, built from dry, smokeless wood, burning well. Supper was not
long, with two experts in camping lending a hand.
The meal was simple--bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, bread and jam, but
there was plenty of everything.
After they had eaten their fill, they spread their blankets beside the
fire. It was a time when men's tongues are loosened and Tim waited
patiently. He felt that in good time, Ford would tell him the story of
his efforts to learn the whereabouts of the Southern Queen and the
treasure in gold which it held.
"How much do you know about my plans to recover the gold in the
Southern Queen?" he asked.
"To be frank, I don't know a great deal," admitted Tim. "When you came
to Atkinson as 'Mr. G. Seven' you aroused my curiosity. I knew that
somewhere I had seen your picture, that your name should be on the tip
of my tongue. I'd have learned your identity sooner but the paper was
sponsoring an air circus and I had to handle the publicity. Then when I
found your picture in the file in a story a little over a year ago I
knew what you were after, but by that time you had left Atkinson."
"How did you trace me here?"
"Found out where you had rented your car, and learned that you had made
inquiries about this section of the state. Then when Sladek arrived in
an amphibian and made similar inquiries I had a hunch something was
going to break. After reaching Auburn it was easy to learn that the
only man on the river who had been a sailor was Crazy John."
"So you rented a boat and started downstream after the story and on the
way Sladek's outfit took a few shots at you?"
"That's about the size of it. Now all I need to fill out the story is
what you're going to do."
"I'm going after the treasure in the Southern Queen and I'm going to
take you with me," said Ford.
"You're what?" asked Tim incredulously.
"I'm going to take you with me on the hunt for the treasure in the hold
of the Southern Queen."
Tim stared, still unbelieving.
"Will you go?" Ford was pressing him for an answer.
"But you don't know much about me."
"I know that you're resourceful and courageous and that Crazy John said
you were a good man. I'd take Crazy John's word for it even if I didn't
know the other things about you."
"Then you can count me in right now if it can be arranged so I can get
a leave of absence from the _News_."
CHAPTER TEN
"Mr. Seven's" Secret
Under the flickering firelight in the camp in the valley of the Cedar,
Grenville Ford unfolded for Tim the story of the revolt in Guato, the
looting of the gold mines and the flight from Martee in the old tramp
steamer.
"I was covering the revolution in Guato at the time for the old _New
York Globe_," said Ford, as he traced the events which had finally
brought him into contact with the flying reporter of the _News_.
"The revolution was headed by Manuel Crespes, who was a professional
trouble maker. He got together a band of desperadoes, all of the
riff-raff in Central America, armed them with modern weapons, and
promised them all of the loot they could get. In less than a month he
had 3,000 of the toughest soldiers you ever saw with him."
Ford puffed slowly on his pipe.
"Three thousand men is quite an army for Central America," he went on,
"and Crespes knew how to handle them. He kept them well fed and paid
them promptly. We never knew where the money came from but we had a
hunch Russia was supplying him with funds.
"The revolt started at Martee, the main seaport, and the rebels swept
everything before them and started inland for the capital, Blanco. They
looted every village they went through and it looked like they were
going to win in a walkaway. But Crespes didn't know that the foxy old
president of Guato had purchased a fleet of American bombing planes and
had secured a bunch of former war pilots to fly them. When the rebels
got up in the narrow passes of the mountains just east of the capital
the bombers dropped down out of the sky.
"I was there that day. Those big eagles just came out of the blue,
unloaded their 'eggs' and then soared away for another load. The rebels
were trapped. In ten minutes the backbone of the revolt was broken and
they were fleeing for the seaport and safety at Martee. I had a hard
time keeping up with them.
"On the way to Martee, Crespes and the other ringleaders cleaned out
the gold mines in the foothills. I don't know exactly how much, but it
was at least a million. They managed to get the bullion to Martee and
load it on the only ship in the harbor, the old Southern Queen.
"They got away just before sunset and were well out to sea when the
bombing planes swept down in search of them. The Southern Queen was
never reported in any port and no member of its crew was ever heard
from. There were all kinds of stories. Some said the old steamer had
been caught in a tropical gale and gone down with all hands, others
said that Crespes had managed to blow it up after getting away with a
large share of the gold while some stories said the Southern Queen was
beached on the coast of Yucatan, the crew fleeing after dividing the
gold.
"It was a mystery that intrigued me. I wanted to know what had happened
to the ship and its crew and I wanted the gold it held. For years I ran
down one rumor after another. That story last year sent out from New
York was written around one of the rumors, but my trip to see Crazy
John was based on something more than rumor."
Ford paused while Tim threw fresh fuel on the flames.
"A month ago an old sailorman in New York told me he'd met a fellow
years ago who said he knew what had happened to the Southern Queen. I
got to checking up and the man he was talking about was John Boggs, the
ship's carpenter, the man we know as Crazy John. Again, through sheer
coincidence, I learned from a pearl dealer in New York that he
occasionally bought fresh water pearls from a man named John Boggs out
here in the Cedar river valley. It didn't take me long to get on the
job."
"Could Crazy John tell you about the Southern Queen?"
The globe trotter smiled. "Crazy John told me the whole story and I'm
so sure he's told the truth that I'm going into the Caribbean at once."
"What happened to the Southern Queen?"
"It struck a reef off an island on the coast of Yucatan. The accident
happened shortly after midnight. Crazy John says they started to sink
at once and the crew and rebels were too drunk to get the boats off. A
few jumped overboard and tried to swim to the island. The sharks got
them. Crazy John managed to get a skiff launched and he reached the
island. It was uninhabited and a gale wrecked his small boat. He
finally made a raft but he drifted for days before he was able to get
across the channel to the mainland for the currents held him just away
from the shore. He thinks he went insane then and it wasn't until he
got away from the sea and settled down here that his mind cleared up.
But the horror of those days on the raft is too much for him. He won't
go back."
"I don't blame him," said Tim. "It must have been horrible, drifting
for days with the shore in sight."
"I've made an agreement with Crazy John that he is to have a fourth of
the treasure if it is found," went on Ford. "In turn he has given me an
excellent description of the island and that section of the coast of
Yucatan. I'm sure I'll be able to find the island without difficulty."
"But will you be able to locate the remains of the Southern Queen and
bring up the treasure if you do find her?"
"That's something I've got to take a chance on. A good many people
would like to have the same information I obtained from Crazy John."
"Including Jack Sladek?"
"Right. Sladek would give a good many thousand."
"Why is he so interested?"
"Sladek was one of the soldiers of fortune with Crespes on the
short-lived revolution. He had a broken leg and they sailed away from
Martee and left him stranded there. It saved Sladek's life, but he
doesn't know that."
"How could he have learned about Crazy John?" asked Tim.
"Only through keeping close track of my movements and I've felt for
months that someone has been shadowing me. Sladek is a cool hand and
without scruples but I know the only way he learned about Crazy John
was through tracing me."
"Then it looks like he may vote himself a hand in hunting for the
treasure."
"He may, but I think I'll be ready and capable of taking care of him
when the time comes. Sladek is looked upon none too favorably in
Central America while I believe I can still claim a lot of friends."
"Were you really serious about taking me on the expedition?" asked Tim.
"Dead serious," replied the globe trotter. "You're resourceful and
that's exactly the type I need. Do you think you can arrange with your
editor to get away for about three months?"
"If there'll be some good stories in connection with the trip, he won't
be likely to object."
"I guess I can promise him plenty of stories and some of them may be
real thrillers. We're going to make the trip in a submarine."
Tim stared across the flames at Ford, wondering if he had heard
correctly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rescue from the Air
In quick phrases and with vivid description Grenville Ford sketched for
him his plan to search for the treasure in the Southern Queen.
"Crazy John thinks the old ship went down in about two hundred feet of
water; just ripped its bottom out on the reef, rolled off and dropped
into a deep hole beside the reef. Diving conditions may be bad so I'm
going to take a submarine. There will be a special diving compartment
so the sub can be taken down to the bottom beside the Southern Queen
and the divers can walk right out and hunt for the gold."
"Where can you get a submarine?" asked Tim.
"That's not difficult," smiled Ford. "The government had to
decommission two big ones this summer on account of the last London
naval treaty. I took an option on one of them and as soon as I can get
to a telegraph office I'm going to buy it. As soon as it is refitted
and I can get a trustworthy crew together I'll start for the coast of
Yucatan."
"Will one of those old government submarines be safe?"
"The type being decommissioned is one of the finest ever built; sturdy,
lots of room for a submarine, and capable of descending to about two
hundred forty feet without too much danger. Oh, you'll get plenty of
material for stories that should please your editor."
They talked at length of plans for the trip, but finally fatigue closed
their lips and they rolled into their blankets.
They were up at dawn, breakfasted quickly, and started upstream for
Auburn.
"We're likely to have a little trouble with Sladek and his crowd before
we get out of the valley," said Ford. "When he is unable to find Crazy
John he'll start trailing me."
"When we reach Auburn we'll be safe. The Jupiter is faster than
Sladek's amphibian."
"If he overtakes us before we reach the village, we'll be in for it."
They chugged steadily up the broad Cedar, the other boat in tow behind
them.
Less than five miles below the village the sound of the amphibian's
engines echoed over the valley and they turned to see the big ship
winging swiftly toward them.
"Here comes trouble," cried Ford. "We'd better hit for a bayou where we
can find some shelter."
Tim opened the throttle of the outboard wide and swung the nose of the
boat sharply to the left. The amphibian was coming fast. It was going
to be close. Little spurts of water rose near them. Sladek or someone
else on the plane was shooting at them.
"Duck!" shouted Ford as the plane roared over them.
"That was close," said Tim, pointing to the bottom of the boat where
water was spurting through a half dozen holes.
"Get under the shelter of the trees. We'll exchange boats."
Tim shut off the outboard and they drifted under the dense foliage of
the river bank. They pulled the other boat alongside and jumped into
it. Tim glanced in the gas tank. There was plenty of fuel to finish the
run to Auburn.
The amphibian was circling overhead, hunting for the prey which now was
sheltered by the trees.
"What'll we do, wait here or try to slip along the bank?" asked Tim.
"Waiting here won't do much good. We'll nose along shore and see if we
can't give them the slip."
Tim snapped the rope on the outboard and they churned ahead again,
keeping as close to the trees as possible and threading their way along
a bayou which paralleled the river. For a few minutes they were in
comparative safety. Then an open stretch of the river loomed ahead and
the amphibian swept down on them.
"Sladek's going to land on the river," said Ford. "We'll have to duck
back into the shelter of the bayou."
"We can switch boats," suggested Tim. "I'll stay in the one with the
holes and you may be able to slip away in this one."
Ford shook his head.
"Well, hardly. This is my party and I won't let you face Sladek and his
gang alone."
The amphibian, now a mile up the river, was settling down to land. The
big ship skimmed the surface of the water, there were sheets of spray,
and it glided swiftly toward them.
Above the thrumming of the amphibian's motors came a sharper sound and
Tim looked skyward. Then he grabbed Ford's arm.
"Here comes Ralph in the Jupiter. Now we'll see some action."
Dropping fast, the cream and green biplane roared down like an avenging
bird. Ralph levelled off about twenty feet above the river and sped
toward the amphibian. Tim saw something sticking over the side of the
biplane. It looked like a gun but the distance was too great and the
speed too fast to make sure.
The men aboard the amphibian were caught unawares. The big craft slowed
down and seemed to hesitate as the pilot waited for orders from Sladek.
Ralph whipped the Jupiter over the amphibian and Tim saw the splatter
of shot on the water. The biplane shot upward and around in a tight
bank and came back at the clumsier plane, which again was showing signs
of life.
The motors of the amphibian thundered mightily. The big ship shook its
wings and lunged ahead, slithers of spray shooting out from its slide.
Overhead hummed the Jupiter and Tim could see now that Ralph was
shooting at the larger plane. As the amphibian took off, Ralph circled
over them and Tim saw his flying companion wave.
"Ralph will keep Sladek busy for a few minutes," he told Ford. "We'd
better get to Auburn as soon as possible."
While Ralph in the Jupiter chased the slower amphibian all over the
valley, Tim and Ford sped up the river as fast as the outboard motor
could chug.
"That was a timely arrival on the part of your friend," grinned Ford.
"It wasn't altogether accidental," replied Tim. "I was afraid of
trouble and Ralph remained at Auburn with the ship all tuned up and
ready to go at the slightest hint that I was in a jam."
"He seems to be a mighty good flyer."
"He's ace high and a fine reporter on top of that."
"Then we'd better take him along on the treasure hunt."
"He'd be a fine addition to your crew but I'm afraid the managing
editor will say thumbs down on that suggestion. One of us has to be
within call. That's why we seldom have a vacation together."