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THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE
BY
ROSS KAY
Author of "Dodging the North Sea Mines," "With Joffre on the Battle
Line," "The Air Scout," "The Go Ahead Boys on Smugglers' Island," etc.,
etc.
The GOLDSMITH Publishing Co.
New York N.Y.
MADE IN U.S.A.
Copyright, 1916 by BARSE & HOPKINS
PREFACE
The love of adventure is inborn in all normal boys. Action is almost a
supreme demand in the stories they read with most pleasure. Recognizing
this primary demand, in this tale I have endeavored to keep in mind this
requisite and at the same time to avoid sensational appeals. The unusual
is not always the improbable. The Go Ahead Boys are striving to be
active without being unduly precocious or preternaturally endowed.
ROSS KAY.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE VOYAGE IS BEGUN 11
II A PLUCKY FEAT 20
III A SUPERSTITIOUS COOK 29
IV A CODE 37
V A TROPICAL STORM 46
VI ADRIFT 54
VII A DESPERATE STRUGGLE 64
VIII A SORRY PLIGHT 71
IX IN SEARCH OF LAND 81
X ASHORE 89
XI A SERIOUS MISHAP 98
XII A NEW HOME 107
XIII AN IRON CHEST 116
XIV AN ODD DISCOVERY 124
XV SAM REMEMBERS SOMETHING 133
XVI THE RIDDLE 143
XVII UNDERGROUND WORK 151
XVIII IN THE WATER 159
XIX SHARK 167
XX TALKING IT OVER 176
XXI A NEW MEMBER 184
XXII A CLUE 193
XXIII Progress 201
XXIV Solved 211
XXV On the Beach 220
XXVI The Spot Is Marked 230
XXVII Conclusion 240
THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE
CHAPTER I
THE VOYAGE IS BEGUN
"A-a-ll ha-a-ands! Up anchor! A-ho-oy!"
Instantly all was bustle and action on board the brig _Josephine_.
The sailors ran hither and thither, the sails were loosed and the yards
braced. The clanking of the windlass soon told that the anchor was being
raised.
"Whew! I never saw so much excitement and hurry in all my life,"
exclaimed a boy, who with three companions stood on the deck of the brig
and looked on at these activities without actually taking part in them
themselves. The speaker was Fred Button. He was a tiny little fellow,
known affectionately among his friends as Stub, or Peewee or Pygmy. This
last name was frequently shortened into Pyg, much to Fred's disgust,
though he had learned better than to lose his temper because of teasing
or little things that did not just suit him. He had given up such
foolishness long ago.
With his three companions he had embarked on the _Josephine_ for a
voyage to Buenos Aires in South America. The lure of the sea had
attracted these four boys and the desire to see something of foreign
lands had spurred them on. They were on board in the capacity of
passengers though it was also their desire to help the crew in whatever
way they were able.
Standing beside Fred Button was John Clemens, a boy who was as unusually
tall as Fred was short. He was extremely thin, however, and with his six
feet three inches of height he looked like a string, according to his
friends. In fact that was what they usually called him.
Next to him was Grant Jones. Grant was about eighteen, the same age as
the other three boys though he was their leader in a great many ways. No
matter what he attempted he always did it well. In school work he
usually led his class and on the athletic field he far outshone the
others. His talents had won him the nickname of Socrates which, however,
was usually shortened to Soc. "Old Soc Jones" was always a favorite.
The fourth member of the group was George Washington Sanders. He was
always good natured and his witty remarks had made him intensely popular
with all who knew him. In honor of the name he bore he sometimes had
been referred to as the father of his country, which appellation,
however, had finally been corrupted to Pop.
"It certainly is busy around here, isn't it?" exclaimed Grant Jones in
response to Fred Button's remarks previously referred to.
"And it's all mystery to me," added John Clemens. "These orders being
shouted and the strange things the men are doing are getting me
bewildered."
"I've been standing here expecting some one of the sailors to mistake
you for a mast and hang a sail on you any minute, String," said Pop
Sanders slyly, at the same time nudging Fred Button.
"Is that so?" exclaimed John Clemens quickly. "At any rate, I'd rather
be the shape of a mast than a bag of ballast."
"That's the way, String," said Grant Jones encouragingly. "Don't let him
get the better of you."
"He never has and he never will," said John complacently.
"Stop arguing," exclaimed Fred Button, "and tell me what kind of a boat
this is that we are on."
"It's a sailing boat," said Pop Sanders. "Did you think it was a
steamer?"
"I mean what kind of a sailing boat is it. Is it a schooner or a bark,
or what?"
"It's a brig," said Socrates Jones. "You can always tell a brig from the
way she is rigged. She has two masts and is square rigged."
"I thought that was a brigantine," protested Fred.
"No," said Grant. "A brigantine is very much the same though. She has
two masts and is square rigged on the foremast, but schooner rigged on
the other."
"Which is called the mainmast," said Fred.
"Quite right," agreed Grant. "I'll make a sailor of you yet."
The _Josephine_ was now sliding through the waters of New York Bay.
The Statue of Liberty was just ahead on her right (or rather her
starboard side) while on the port side was Governor's Island, with its
old fort and parade ground plainly to be seen. Two big ocean liners
loomed up a short distance away. One was just completing her voyage from
Europe while the other was only starting. Saucy little tugs rushed
hither and thither. Ferryboats passed, bearing their precious burdens of
human freight. Great barges loaded to the water's edge were towed slowly
along. Ahead could be seen many steamers lying at anchor in the lower
bay off the quarantine station, while now and again a sailing vessel
similar to the one on which the Go Ahead boys were embarked could also
be seen. They were not very numerous, however.
"Well, what do you think of it, boys?" demanded a bluff, hearty voice
behind them. It was Captain Roger Dodge, the commander of the
_Josephine_, who spoke to them. His face was bronzed by the sun and
wind and his drooping mustache was faded to a straw color. His gray eyes
were the features that struck any one who observed him closely, however.
A merry twinkle could be seen in them, but at the same time their
expression denoted that their owner was a man who would never be afraid
of anything on land or sea.
"We think it's fine," exclaimed Fred Button speaking for the others.
"It's a wonderful harbor all right," said Captain Dodge. "I think it's
just about the finest in the world and I've seen most of them too."
"What one do you like next to this, captain?" inquired Grant. Old Soc
Jones was always eager to learn something.
"Well," said the captain slowly, "I guess the harbor at Sydney,
Australia, next to this. Still San Francisco has a wonderful harbor,
too. That golden gate out there is a sight worth seeing."
"I wish I could see it," said Grant, wistfully. "Some day I hope to do
it, too. Still, there are so many wonderful places in the world it's
hard to say which ones you'd rather see first."
"That's very true," agreed the captain. "I've seen a good many, but I
always want to see more. I've knocked around the world so long that I
don't believe I could settle down and be happy now. I guess I've got the
wanderlust all right."
"It's easy to get," exclaimed Pop Sanders, serious for once. "We've all
got it ourselves."
"How long have you been a sailor, captain?" asked John Clemens.
"Thirty years. I started in as a cabin boy when I was fourteen years old
and I've been at it ever since."
"You ought to know about all there is to know about it, I should think,"
said Fred.
"Without boasting at all, I can safely say that I do know a lot about
the business," said Captain Dodge, smilingly. "I've done about all there
is to do on a ship, I guess."
"And you've had some wonderful experiences," suggested Grant.
"Yes, I have," said the captain smilingly.
"Will you tell us about them sometime?"
"I should be glad to," said the captain readily. "Not now, though, for,
as you can see, I am pretty busy," and the bluff sailor hurried away,
shouting orders to his men, who all seemed to like him and take delight
in carrying out his commands as quickly as possible.
"Captain Dodge isn't much like the sea captains we used to read about in
the old story books, is he?" remarked Grant Jones.
"Why not?" demanded Pop Sanders. "He certainly looks like a sailor."
"I know that," agreed Grant, "but I meant the kind of a man the crew all
hated and feared and who used to give them the rope's end every time
they did anything he didn't like."
"That day has passed, I guess," laughed John Clemens. "Perhaps it's
lucky for us, too, for we might get it ourselves."
"Any one would have to be a pretty good shot to hit you with anything,
String," said Pop Sanders teasingly.
"Huh," snorted John, but he made no other reply.
At this moment Captain Dodge approached.
"We've got to anchor, boys," he said. "The wind is dead ahead of us here
in the narrows and I think I'll wait till it shifts."
"We might all go to Coney Island then," exclaimed Fred Button eagerly.
"And the wind might change almost any minute and we'd sail off and leave
you behind," laughed Captain Dodge. "Coney Island is just around that
point, though, and you could row there in a little while."
"I guess we'll stay aboard if you're thinking of leaving us," said Fred.
"I'd rather go to Buenos Aires than Coney Island."
"That's what I say," exclaimed John Clemens.
"Can't we do something to help around here?" asked Grant. "We're only
amateur sailors, but we're anxious to do what we can."
"I know you are," said Captain Dodge. "I expect you to take your regular
turns on watch with the rest of the crew. Just now I want the sails
taken in, though. Do you suppose one of you could go up that foremast?"
"I could," cried Fred quickly. "Let me go."
"Think you can take in that topsail?"
"I can help."
"That's all I want, of course. There'll be a sailor up there with you to
tell you what to do and perhaps you can be of assistance to him."
"I'd like to try it, anyway," said Fred eagerly.
"All right," said the captain. "Mr. Johnson," he called to the first
mate, who was a big blonde-haired Swede, "this young man wants to go
aloft. Will you let him help your man take in that fore-topsail?"
"Yes, sir," came the quick reply, and Fred ran to the foot of the mast,
where Mr. Johnson, the mate, and a sailor named Petersen were standing.
"Follow me," said Petersen, and he began to climb. Up the rigging he
went, with Fred close behind him. It was hard work for the inexperienced
boy to keep pace with the hardy sailor, and he was well-nigh exhausted
when at last they stood upon the yards.
"That's hard work," panted Fred.
"You'll get used to it," smiled the sailor. "There's a knack about it."
"What do we do now?" demanded Fred.
"Wait till we get our orders. The captain will bring 'er up into the
wind in a minute and that's when we get to work."
"What shall I do?"
"You grab all the loose sail you can, right in your arms, and try to
hold it there. They'll let go below."
Fred felt dizzy, standing so high above the decks, and he clung to the
ropes which were all about him, for dear life. He heartily wished that
he was once more with his comrades, but it was too late now. He must go
through with it, and he was determined, if possible, not to betray his
nervousness.
"Stand by!" came the faint call from below.
"Hang on now," cautioned Petersen. "They're going to bring 'er 'round."
The steersman put the helm hard over and the _Josephine_ swung
rapidly around with her bow into the wind. In spite of the warning Fred
did not hold on as tightly as he should. He felt himself slipping. He
clutched madly at the maze of ropes which entirely surrounded him. He
tried to call out, but no sound came. Desperately he strove to save
himself, but his efforts were unavailing.