"And you want me to marry him?" It was a dreadful thing for her to ask
at such a time and in such a place, with the others almost within
arm's-reach. But they were all talking at once, and nobody was paying
much attention to anybody else.
"You are promised," I reminded her; "and if you can forgive him for
chasing around after another woman----"
"Hush!" she commanded, with a sudden retreat into the arms of
discreetness. "They will hear you and say things about you--behind your
back. What are we to do now--just lie down and go calmly to sleep,
forgetting all about these horrid pirates at the other end of our
island? I can't quite see us doing that. Can you?"
It was just here that Bonteck cut in, saving me the necessity of
answering.
"When you are quite through making Dick jump the hurdles for you,"
he said to Conetta; and then he explained. We were not to take the
mutineers wholly at their word regarding the implied promise not to
molest us. The six of us who had been on the firing front were to do
picket duty while the others tried to get a little sleep. The professor
and Billy were to take the north beach, Jerry Dupuyster and Grey the
south, and Bonteck and I were to vibrate between the two beaches,
keeping in touch with the shoreward couples on either hand, thus
maintaining a guard line all across the island.
It was not until after this rather elaborate picketing plan had been
put in train, and Van Dyck and I were cautiously feeling our way toward
the agreed-upon frontier half-way down the island, that I ventured to
find fault.
"I don't know why you should make six of us unhappy when one or two
would be enough," I complained. "You know well enough that our fat
cook is asking nothing but to be let alone until he can make off with
the loot. He's not going to trouble us any more."
His reply was a cryptic generality.
"I am hoping we are not entirely through with the fat cook, yet, Dick;
in fact, I'm almost certain we're not."
"What's gnawing at you now?" I asked sourly.
"Just a suggestion," he answered half-absently, I thought. "We have
something at our end of the island that is much more valuable--and
desirable--than anything the pirates will find where they are digging
now."
The way in which he said it, as much as the thing itself, made my blood
run cold.
"The women, you mean?"
"It's only a suggestion," he hastened to say; "a suggestion based upon
a name. Let's forget it, if we can."
We had groped our way for another hundred yards before I said: "It's
a beautiful muddle! They won't find _your_ gold--the whereabouts of
which seems to be a lot more mythical than any of the old Spanish sea
tales--and they _will_ find the tidy little fortune we turned up for
Madeleine."
"Of course; they'll be sure to find that," he agreed, still speaking
half-absently.
"You talk as if you didn't care," I snapped. "Is Madeleine's dilemma
any less sharp pointed now than it was when you cooked up this romantic
scheme of yours for helping her?"
"You shouldn't hit a man when he's down, Dick," he replied soberly.
"You know how I was planning to play the god-in-the-car to this little
bunch of people, and what a chaotic, heart-breaking mess I've made
of it. With all sorts of horrors staring us in the face, you can't
blame me if I go batty now and then. You'd do it yourself if you were
staggering under my load. I'm to blame for all this, Dick; I, and
nobody else."
It doesn't do any particular good to rub salt into a wound--even a
foolish wound. So I contented myself with asking a sort of routine
question:
"Does Madeleine know how she is being robbed?"
"She does. I was obliged to tell her that much."
"How did she take it?"
"Like the angel that she is, Dick. She says the gold doesn't belong to
her, any more than it does to anybody else who might dig it up; and
that, anyway, it doesn't matter when there are so many more important
things at stake."
"She is quite right about that," I agreed. "With a chancy voyage in an
open boat ahead of us----"
"We'll never make that voyage, Dick," he said solemnly. "I think you
know that as well as I do."
"Why won't we?"
"Because we are never going to be given the chance. You are not
confiding enough to believe that this fat devil is going to keep his
promise, to us, are you?"
"But, good heavens--you're keeping our promise to him, aren't you?" I
burst out.
"To the letter--exactly and precisely to the letter," was his calm
reply. "You heard what the Frenchman asked, and what I agreed to. He
made three conditions; we were to go back to our camp; he was to be
permitted to land in peace; and Goff was to be given up. We have kept
faith in all three particulars. But he isn't meaning to keep faith
with us at all."
"You mean that he won't leave us the boat?" I gasped.
"Not on your life. Goff told me we couldn't put the slightest
dependence in anything he might say; and if I had been inclined to give
him the benefit of the doubt over Goff's warning, his own boasting
would have turned the scale against him. Did you remark what he said,
just as he was leaving?--about Santa Cruz and the liberator?"
I don't know why the fat man's boast hadn't made the proper impression
upon me when he shrilled it out at us, or why I had failed to recall
the name he had given as that of a Nicaraguan bandit whose cruelty and
rapacity had long been a byword in the Central American republics.
There must have been a blind spot in my memory at the moment, for
the name and ill fame of Gustave the Fat were known even in distant
Venezuela.
"That fiend!" I choked. And then: "You never shipped Gustave Le Gros in
New York as cook on the _Andromeda_!"
"Oh, no. We shipped the real Bassinette, doubtless. Where and how the
change was made--unless our repair stop at Gracias á Dios gave them
their chance--I don't know."
"Wait a minute," said I. "Isn't it occurring to you now that the
Gracias á Dios stop might have been prearranged? Haskell couldn't
account for that propeller shaft running dry, and neither could I,
after I had examined it. It had every appearance of having been
tampered with; sand or some other abrasive put into it. If such a
thing were done, and timed so that we'd have to put in at Gracias----"
"Sure!" he replied. "And the gold--my gold--was probably the
main-spring of the whole plot. The secret of it must have leaked out
some way in New York, and it was handed on to this bandit bunch; with
Lequat to trail us, first to Havana, and afterwards to New Orleans. But
that's all ancient history now. Our original job is still before us,
and that is not to let them get away with the yacht and leave us as we
were."
We had reached the appointed picket line, and short detours to right
and left put us in touch with Dupuyster and Grey on the south beach
and Sanford and Billy Grisdale on the north. Grey had scouted ahead
a little way, and he told us that the long-boat and the disabled
electric launch were lying at the beach at the place which had been
our late battle-ground, with two men guarding them. And Grisdale and
the professor had a similar report to make concerning the mutineers'
vigilance. Billy had also made a forward reconnaissance, and he had
seen two sentries pacing back and forth on the sands in the little
indentation which we had named "Spaniards' Bay."
Van Dyck made no comment until after we had gone back to our mid-island
post in the wood. Then he said abruptly: "How long do you think it will
take them to dig up those gold bars and carry them down to the boat,
Dick?"
"Why, I don't know; with the number of men they've probably got on the
job it oughtn't to take more than half an hour or so," I returned.
"Thirty minutes; it's short--frightfully short," he said, as if he were
thinking aloud. Then; "It's this suspense that takes the heart out of
a man."
It seemed a little odd that he should lament the shortness of the time
in one breath, and in the next give the impression that he wished it
were shorter.
"What difference does their speed or slowness make to us?" I asked.
"It is just a chance--just the rawest of all chances," he went on,
ignoring my query. "I suppose I ought not to have let it hang upon such
a weak thread; but there was no choice--no choice at all."
"If you would describe the thread I might be able to come a little
nearer guessing what you are talking about," I retorted.
"Goff has a plan of some sort, but he couldn't take the time to go into
details. As I've told you, he warned me that no dependence whatever
could be placed upon the Frenchman's promise to leave the long-boat and
the provisions. He advised me to accept the terms as they stood, and
to make a show of keeping our part of them--as we have. Past that, we
were to get in touch again, holding ourselves in readiness for whatever
might happen."
"And you don't know what is going to happen?"
"No more than you do. You know how secretive Goff is, and, as I say,
our time was short. I can't, for the life of me, see what Goff can
possibly do to help out. I don't need to tell you the real reason why
Le Gros insisted upon our surrendering him. He is the one man besides
myself who knows, or is supposed to know, where my gold bars are
buried, and Le Gros meant to make him point out the spot--has probably
done so before this time. What Goff hoped to gain by putting himself
into their hands, I don't know, but we may be sure that he has some
scheme in his clever old head. He told me to watch the beaches, both of
them, and to be ready to bunch our fighting half-dozen at any point,
and at any minute."
"Well, we're here and we're ready," I said, and the words were scarcely
out of my mouth before Grey came over from the southern beach, groping
his way blindly in the thicker darkness of the palm shadows.
"Van Dyck--Preble!" he called cautiously, and then he stumbled fairly
into our arms. "Something doing," he told us hurriedly. "One of the
boats--the smaller one--is adrift and moving down this way. It doesn't
seem to have anybody in it."
"But I thought you said a few minutes ago that there were two men
guarding the boats," I struck in.
"There were, but they've gone somewhere. Jerry and I supposed they
were sitting down in the tree shadows where we couldn't see them, but
I guess they must have gone up into the woods with the others. If
they were still on the beach they wouldn't let that launch drift away
without trying to catch it."
"That drifting boat is probably our cue," said Bonteck, instantly
alert. Then to me: "Hurry over to the other shore and get Sanford and
Billy, Dick--quick! Strike straight across the island with them, and
work your way along the south beach until you find us!"
I established contact with the professor and Billy without any
difficulty and transmitted Van Dyck's order. Billy wanted to know what
good the disabled electric launch would do us, even if it should drift
ashore at some point where we could capture it, but I couldn't tell him
that.
"That's a future," I said. "Our job just now is to obey orders. Come
on."
Together the three of us plunged into the wood on a direct line across
the island, and in a very few minutes we found Van Dyck, Grey and Jerry
Dupuyster crouching in the shadows of the tree fringe on the south
shore. Far up the white line of the beach we could see the dark bulk
of the long-boat at rest, and in the nearer distance was the electric
launch, still drifting down the lagoon toward us.
"What's your guess, Dick?" said Van Dyck, as we came up. "There isn't a
particle of current in that lagoon--you know there isn't."
There wasn't, as we had proved many times, and yet the drifting boat
was moving steadily in our direction. It was Billy Grisdale's eyes--the
youngest pair of the half-dozen--that solved the mystery.
"There's somebody in the boat--paddling," he declared. "Look steadily
and you'll see his arm reaching over the side. He's lying down or
kneeling so that you can't see anything but the arm."
In a short time we could all see the propelling arm making its rhythmic
swing over the side of the boat, and while we looked, the man in the
boat sat up and went at his task in more vigorous fashion, beaching the
boat presently in a small cove within a stone's throw of our crouching
place.
"It's Goff," said Van Dyck, when the paddler stepped out of the
launch, and we made a rush for him.
The old skipper had little enough to say for himself, save that he had
improved a chance to slip away from the mutineers in the darkness,
and had stolen the launch with the idea of getting it into our hands.
Questioned by Grey as to how he had been able to get away with the boat
without giving the alarm, the sailing-master gave such an evasive reply
that I was set to wondering if he hadn't slain the two boat guards out
of hand. But as to that, he was too full of his plan for our rescue to
go into the particulars of his own adventure.
Briefly, the plan he had evolved turned upon his success in securing
one of the boats. For obvious reasons he had picked upon the launch,
which the mutineers had towed ashore--probably because there were men
left on the _Andromeda_ whom they were afraid to trust and they wished
to keep in their own hands all means of communication between the yacht
and the island.
"Couldn't start the long-boat without that pop-engine makin' a racket
that'd wake the dead," he explained; "and, besides, she's up on the
sand till it'll take half a dozen men to shove her off. And the
way they're out o' their heads, I cal'lated they wouldn't miss the
launch--not first off, anyways."
"I suppose they've all gone crazy digging for the Spanish gold,"
Bonteck said, meaning, as I made sure, to give the captain a lead upon
which he was at liberty to enlarge in the hearing of the rest of us.
"'Crazy' ain't a big enough word f'r it. You'd think the whole kit
and b'ilin' of 'em was just out of a 'sylum. That's how it comes they
hain't missed me yet. But we'll have to talk sort o' middlin' fast, I
guess. When they do miss me, I shouldn't wonder a mite if there'd be
blood on the moon. Now you've got a boat, what you goin' to do, Mr. Van
Dyck?"
With a boat, even a disabled one, in our hands we were once more upon
a fighting basis. Goff had quickly confirmed Bonteck's assumption that
Le Gros hadn't the smallest idea of keeping his word to us about the
turning over of the long-boat, so we were justified in declaring war
again if we chose. Bonteck's first proposal was to load our fighting
squad into the launch, in which we could paddle our way through the
nearest reef gap and around to the _Andromeda_, on the chance of taking
the yacht by a surprise attack with Haskell and his engine-room and
stoke-hold contingent to help us if we could contrive to liberate them.
To this expedient Goff raised a very pertinent objection, which was
immediately sustained by all. While we should be fighting to gain
possession of the yacht, the women would be left practically undefended
on the island--hostages whom Le Gros would immediately seize, and for
the restoring of whom--not to mention any worse thing that he might
do--he could exact any price he might ask us to pay.
"No, that won't do," said Goff, when we were brought up standing by
the insurmountable objection; "lemme get in with my notion. There's
three oars in the launch, and a piece of another. By crowdin' the folks
up a mite, you can get 'em all in at one load. S'pose you do it, and
paddle round outside o' the reef and board the yacht, the whole kit
and caboodle of ye. There won't be much fightin' to do. That pirate's
got most of his bullies ashore with him. That's why he towed the
launch--didn't want to leave it behind f'r the shaky ones to get hold
of."
Van Dyck drew a long breath.
"That will do, if we're given time. But we shan't have time, Captain
'Lige. Long before we can paddle this dead weight of a tender down to
the other end of the island, get our people aboard, and paddle back to
the yacht with a load that will put us fairly down to the gunwales, it
will be too late. The yacht will be gone."
"Meanin' that these scamps'll get through with their job and beat you
to it?" said the old Gloucesterman. "I been figgerin' that it's my job
to see that they don't. While you're doin' your little do, I'll tack
back to that place up in the woods and see if I can't keep 'em busy at
the diggin' f'r a while longer. If you folks can make your turn and get
things quieted down on the _'Meda_, all you got to do then is to slip
that anchor cable quick as you can and put to sea. You're a navigator,
Mr. Van Dyck, and you can take her anywhere that I could."
"And leave you behind in the hands of these scoundrels who would burn
you at the stake in revenge?" Bonteck exclaimed; a protest that was
echoed instantly by every man of us. But the brave old skipper wouldn't
listen.
"There has come a time more 'n once afore this when it was a ch'ice
between one life and a-many," he said, in his clipped New England
drawl. "You folks go ahead and do your part, and I'll do mine."
And before we could stop him he was gone.