ADRIFT.
“Once abeam of Mountain Island set sail due west. There are several
clusters of rocks here that are down on the chart. These you will know
as the Archipelago. Directly south thirty miles there is a barren
stretch of island again. This is Mountain Island, also--but we shall
call it, for the sake of clearness, Second Mountain Island. Reach that,
then----”
“All is plain sailing!” cried Admiral Semmes, in delight. “Ah, Captain
Eccles, I feel like a shipwrecked sailor nearing the shore of peace and
rest at last.”
He was on board the _Regent_ now, along with Nick Collins. There had
been a happy reunion of all the friends. The Spanish brig had earned
her money, for the pursuit of the _Regent_ had been successful. Within
an hour after it was a certainty that the schooner in the distance was
the one they sought, the admiral and Nick were welcomed on board the
Yankee craft.
Nick was received on the _Regent_ like one come back from the dead.
Frank, Will, and Nick were the happiest boys on the Pacific or any
other ocean. If ever three lads had stories of wonderful adventures to
relate, it was that trio.
After a day or two of rest for the overtaxed admiral, he took part with
Eccles and Captain Dartmoor in the daily study of the written clue to
the sunken treasure.
“Mountain Island,” said Semmes when, on the second morning after the
reunion, he was discussing the situation with Dartmoor and Eccles.
“I knew it well when I was in active service. It used to serve as a
mid-ocean watering station.”
“I have never seen it, but I’ve been near it, and I’ve noticed it on
the chart,” said Captain Eccles.
“Well, then comes the Archipelago,” went on Semmes. “We can’t very well
miss that.”
“No; it’s not likely.”
“Then Second Mountain Island.” Semmes put on his glasses and referred
again to the letter. “‘A barren stretch of island,’ it says.”
“Thirty miles south,” put in Eccles from memory.
“I’ve never seen Second Mountain Island,” said Dartmoor; “but it’s easy
of location. Once there, as the admiral says, it’s plain sailing. That
is, the directions make it seem so, and yet----”
Dartmoor paused, and a serious look came into his face.
“What is it, Jack?” asked Eccles anxiously.
“The charts give a blank beyond it for many leagues.”
“Why is that?”
“It means that the waters there are not navigable.”
“Not navigable!” exclaimed the admiral. “Nonsense!”
“Oh, there’s water, and you can sail there; but it is a dangerous
region.”
“In what way dangerous?”
“It may be full of breakers.”
“We can manage them.”
“It may be a region that is subject to sudden and severe storms.”
“We’ll get ready for them,” replied the admiral, dauntlessly.
“It may be ridden with pestilence.”
“You have a medicine chest aboard, captain, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we won’t worry about the pestilence.”
“But there may be other grave obstacles,” contended Captain Dartmoor.
“Go on, my lad. Name them,” said the doughty admiral.
“Well, what if we should encounter a grassy sea that clogs progress and
makes the ship unmanageable?”
“We’ll cut our way through the grass!” cried Semmes.
Dartmoor smiled. “You’re determined to surmount all obstacles, I see,
admiral,” he said.
“Of course I am. I haven’t fought my way through life for nothing.
Now look here, Captain Dartmoor. It’s all right to be careful; but
you’ve only been making guesses about that section of the ocean that
the chart leaves blank. Isn’t it possible that nothing worse than
unfavorable winds and currents make mariners shun the place?”
“It’s quite possible, admiral,” acquiesced Dartmoor. “At any rate, when
we sail from Second Mountain Island we go south by west.”
“Yes.”
“About forty leagues.”
“That’s what the letter says.”
“There are several islands in our course. And the one that we must find
is very appropriately named. It is called Treasure Island.”
“And the directions, I believe, say that it is easily distinguishable?”
“Yes; by a forest of palm trees on its western coast.”
“That’s a mark we can’t miss.”
“No; and once we reach the island the treasure is ours!”
“By jingo, we are indebted to the clear head of Nick Collins’ father.
What a lucid description of it all he has given! He has pointed out the
location precisely.”
And so, hopefully, buoyantly, the confident mariners discussed their
plans.
For the three boys life was a golden dream under those sunny skies.
The crew of the _Regent_ were devoted to their captain, and the entire
ship’s company was on the best of terms. They were a happy family.
The crew had been let into the secret of the voyage, and they took as
much interest in attaining success for the undertaking as the persons
chiefly concerned. Perhaps a promise of prize money had something to do
with their enthusiasm.
Twice heavy storms drove the _Regent_ out of her course, but she
weathered the tempest bravely on both occasions, and in time regained
her proper bearings.
One morning, just as the big, red sun came out of the eastern rim of
the horizon, the _Regent_ stood abeam of Second Mountain Island.
The news brought Admiral Semmes out of his berth two hours earlier than
usual, and the boys, you may be sure, were up and on hand to join in
the general rejoicing. Somewhere, within a hundred miles of them now,
everybody believed, lay the much-hunted and wished-for sunken treasure.
The three principals in the expedition--Admiral Semmes, Captain Eccles,
and Captain Dartmoor--held a council of navigation.
They agreed, after a good deal of discussion, that the best plan was to
sail by day as much as possible, and anchor at night. Thus they could
see exactly where they were going, progress slowly, and be sure to
follow a definite course.
The first evening after leaving Second Mountain Island they came to a
rounding reef that afforded a fine harborage.
“Safe in a calm, but bad in a storm,” said Captain Dartmoor.
“Right you are,” agreed the admiral.
“We’ll keep to the outer edge of those rocks there, and watch well, for
a storm seems to be brewing.”
“I don’t think it will reach us to-night,” put in Captain Eccles, after
giving the sky a weatherwise survey.
“I don’t, either, Eck, but we’d better be on the safe side.”
It was a night of such beauty as only the tropics afford. The stars
were fair and serene, and a yellow moon gilded the scene with its
radiance.
The ship at anchor, the sailors took their ease about the deck. Some
of them sang or danced. One seasoned tar spun yarns of the tropics for
three very keen boy listeners. He so excited Nick, Frank, and Will with
descriptions of the beauties and wonders of coral reefs and palm-shaded
islands that finally Nick said to Frank:
“That’s a coral reef yonder.”
“Yes, and those trees are palms.”
“How would you like to go to them?”
“I’d like it, you bet!”
“And you, Will?”
“I’d like to, of course, but what’s the use? They won’t let us go
ashore.”
“Let us ask Captain Dartmoor,” suggested Will.
“No; I’ll ask Captain Eccles,” said Nick.
And he did so. But Eccles shook his head firmly when Nick, with the
other boys at his side, presented their request.
“You’re safe here, Nick,” he said. “I lost you once, you know, and I
don’t want to take a chance of repeating the experience.”
“But we’re not to be in danger, captain,” pleaded Nick.
“Not in danger?” repeated Eccles. “How do you happen to know that?”
“I mean that we shall only go just inside the reef.”
But Captain Eccles shook his head.
The boys looked sadly disappointed.
“Oh, let them go, captain,” said the admiral.
“Yes, I think you’d better,” put in Dartmoor. “There really isn’t any
danger if they go inside the reef.”
“Well, all right,” Eccles consented. “But mind, boys, you’re not to be
gone more than half an hour.”
The delighted lads were quickly in a boat and rowing toward the reef.
As they rounded one end they found that it was not a continued ridge of
rock, as it had seemed from a distance, but was broken here and there
with outlets to the ocean.
They approached cautiously, found a place to moor their boat, and
landed on the widest part of the reef. They were surprised to see
that even on that scant soil there was vegetation, and of a sort that
filled them with wonder. There were radiant flowers, some of them
seeming almost to sparkle in the moonlight. Near the water’s edge they
saw marvelous shells, which, for color, rivaled the splendid flowers.
The boys felt as if they had suddenly been dropped into a section of
fairyland.
The half hour granted them went by, grew into an hour, and then they
remembered that they had a promise to keep.
“I’m sure we’ve been gone more than half an hour,” said Nick.
“So am I.”
“I’m sorry. We gave our word, you know, to Captain Eccles.”
“Well, let us row back just as fast as we can.”
“We’d better,” said Nick, “for more reasons than one. Do you feel this
wind?”
“Yes,” answered Frank. “I thought it had grown stronger.”
They were still some distance from their boat.
“Hurry up, boys!” cried Nick, starting into a run.
Frank and Will followed. But when they came in sight of the place where
they had moored the yawl, an exclamation of dismay escaped Nick.
“Heavens! It’s gone!” he cried.
In the moonlit water, not very far yet from the edge of the reef, their
boat was adrift. It was making for one of the outlets to the sea.
“After it, boys, quick!” cried Nick, as he took the lead in an effort
to recover the boat.
All three of the boys sprang into the water, and waded toward the yawl.
The heightened wind, which had swept the little craft from its insecure
mooring, was now aided by the rising tide in carrying it toward the
outlet.
But the boys made after it with good speed, and managed at last to come
up with it. They laid hold of it by the gunwales, and tried to check
its progress, but failed. It drew them along with it.
“Climb aboard!” shouted Nick.
They all did so. By the time they got at the oars the yawl had swung
through the outlet and was in open water.
“Now, then, a steady pull for the _Regent_!” cried Frank.
But hardly had he spoken the words when the swift current tore an oar
from his hands, and whirled it into the water far beyond his reach.
“An oar is gone!” he cried out.
“And we are drifting out to sea!” exclaimed Will, in terror.
In a flash Nick Collins realized the danger into which events had
suddenly plunged them. One glance at the fast-receding reef told him
how rapidly they were being swept to sea. A swift current fairly drove
the yawl along. Dark clouds began to overcast the sky. The wind gave
forth an ominous blast again and again.
With one oar Nick could do nothing. He looked into the pale faces of
his companions.
“Boys,” he said, “we’re in for it. But keep cool. They may see us from
the _Regent_, and send out a boat to get us.”
It was just a forlorn hope, as Nick knew, but he gave voice to it
for the sake of keeping up his companions’ courage. On account of
the intervening reef the yawl could not be seen from the deck of the
_Regent_.
The land faded away. A roaring breeze stirred up the sea and rocked
their little craft unmercifully. Will was striving bravely to keep from
crying. Frank was silent. Nick scanned the water in the direction of
the _Regent_, hoping against hope that their danger might have become
known to those on board.
Farther and farther away from their friends they were carried. There
was no moonlight now, and, with a sinking heart, Nick realized that
even if a boat were sent after them they might not be seen.
“Lie in the bottom of the boat, both of you,” Nick said as the rocking
grew worse. “There is nothing else we can do--nothing but keep the yawl
as steady as possible. For the rest--we must trust to Providence.”