LOST ISLAND!
Followed by Jim, they scrambled into their boat, and shot the sails up;
and in a few minutes the _Nautilus_ was bobbing her way out of Shavay
Bay on a course almost due southeast, her bow being in a straight line
for Fanning Island. From the latter place Tempest intended to take his
bearings, and then veer slightly to the south in the direction of the
island Joe Flagg had indicated on the chart.
“I’ll tell you what, Tempest,” the boy said when the sails were
bellying and the waves were flopping against the boat’s nose, “if we do
happen to have made a mistake in judging Mr. Flagg, and he’s only gone
to pay a visit to some one, he will think us a queer lot to have bolted
like this.”
“_If!_” commented Tempest, grimly. “I’ve got a good deal of faith in
human nature, my lad, but I’d rather believe our friend was ’way back
in his precious Dogtooth City than where he is at this minute. Foxy old
rascal! He’d have given his ears for a breeze like this during the day.
As it is, I don’t believe he can be much more than two or three hours’
sailing in front of us. Who would have thought of him sneaking off like
that? I don’t know whether he expected we should smell a rat and come
after him quickly, but he reckoned on getting a full day’s lead of us
anyhow.”
“It will be an interesting moment when we do meet him,” Dave said with
a smile.
“He will be polite, even under those circumstances, and try to work in
a few funny stories. I’ve met his kind before.”
“By the way,” said Dave seriously, “does it occur to you to wonder what
will happen if Flagg does happen to get there first and collar the
platinum?”
“It doesn’t,” replied Tempest. “I know. It is a case of ‘finding’s
keepings.’ The first party to grab that treasure has just as much right
to it, legally, as he has to his own bank balance. That is why we are
not going to stop to gather daisies on the way. As a matter of fact, if
only we can find our way without wasting too much time, Mr. Flagg won’t
have had a chance to do much by the time we arrive on the scene; and
then there is likely to be some fun.”
“_Fun!_” Dave exclaimed.
“Well,” said Tempest, “as the heads of nations put it, we shall have
‘severed diplomatic relations.’ In other words, if we find Joe Flagg
picking the bones of the old _Hatteras_, the fat will be in the fire.”
“It was a mean trick,” Dave commented, gloomily.
“Oh, cheer up!” Tempest laughed. “It’s all in the game. If you will
come treasure-hunting you must be prepared to hit a snag or two, or a
head or two if necessary. I’m rather looking forward to hearing what he
has to say on the subject.”
A little wisp of spray shot over the side as the _Nautilus_ plunged
before the wind, which was increasing as the night wore on.
“That’s right, blow!” said Tempest, hanging on to the tiller and
gripping the stem of his pipe hard with his teeth. “I’d hate a dead
calm just now.”
“It looks like a dirty night,” said Dave.
“Well, we can’t wash it,” the other replied, grinning. “It’s ‘neck or
nothing’ now. There is no turning back for us, and I give you my word
it will have to be a lot dirtier than this before Flagg shortens sail
or tries to take shelter. He has a pretty fair idea now that the hounds
are at his heels. Isn’t she a peach in a strong wind, eh?”
The _Nautilus_ was certainly acquitting herself most creditably. She
careened over under the pressure of wind, but shipped nothing except
flying spume.
“I only hope that mast isn’t rotten,” Tempest said, glancing upwards.
“We should be properly in the soup if that snapped.”
“Are you thinking of taking in a reef?”
“Take in nothing! We’ll nail our colors to the mast, so to speak, Dave.
If the thing goes bust we go bust too, so far as getting anywhere is
concerned. All the same, I’m glad those halyards are of fairly new
manila.”
Jim, who did not know precisely what this new game Dave and Tempest
were playing was, sat steadying the boat and staring hour after hour
over the black expanse of water. He knew they were bound for an
island, and that the pair were looking for a wreck; but beyond that
he was not concerned. They had all been distressed mariners together,
and therefore had a bond of sympathy between them. Moreover, he had
nowhere else to go, and might just as well be on the _Nautilus_ as
anywhere else.
“Grr,” he muttered suddenly about midnight, peering almost straight
ahead. “Him light over there.”
The others looked but could see nothing.
“Sure?” asked Tempest.
“Him light not there now. Him gone,” said the Kanaka.
“That’s strange,” said Dave. “What do you make of it, Tempest? It
couldn’t have been the _Firefly_, could it?”
“Can’t say. These Kanakas have wonderful sight, but the _Firefly_ must
be a mighty long way off.”
“But they won’t be carrying regulation lights, any more than we are.”
“That’s true, but I expect they have some sort of a lamp on board like
ours, to keep an eye on the compass, and one of them may have been
holding it up at that minute. All the same, we have to take our hats
off to Jim if he really did see it.”
Although the wind continued to blow moderately hard that night, it was
steady, and therefore caused no particular anxiety. The _Nautilus_ was
eating up the knots like a racer, and Tempest awaited dawn anxiously in
the hope of sighting Fanning Island.
“Keep your eyes skinned for land, Jim,” he said.
Jim merely nodded. The sky was growing fairly light when he pointed
with a brown forefinger away on the starboard bow.
“Him land,” he declared.
“Rubbish!” commented Tempest. “That’s a bit of a cloud on the horizon.”
Dave was levelling the binoculars in the direction.
“He’s right, Tempest,” he said.
“Gee, but that’s fine!” said Tempest. “I hardly expected to hit it
off quite as near as that, not knowing anything about the currents.
Allow me to remark, Dave, that that was some feat of seamanship on my
part. Jim, you bottle-nosed squab, glue your eyes to these glasses and
tell me if you see anything of a sailing boat in the offing. There’s a
friend of mine in it, and I particularly want to say ‘good morning’ to
him.”
Jim obeyed instructions, and searched in every direction without
success.
“I guess they’ve taken a short cut,” Tempest observed. “Flagg didn’t
have to make Fanning Island first. Well, well, that’s a point in his
favor. It puts him another hour, or maybe two, ahead. I hope one of his
sails splits, and that’s the most charitable thing I can say for him.”
As the breeze remained steady and there was no indication of any change
in the weather, Tempest gave the tiller to Dave during the morning,
and snatched a couple of hours’ sleep, curled up in the bottom of the
boat. It was afternoon when the boy aroused him. He would not have done
so then, but for the unexpected happening. Within the space of twenty
minutes the wind developed a chilly tang, and ominous clouds gathered
overhead.
The weather-wise Kanaka constantly glanced upwards, but made no comment
until a sudden rain squall hit them.
“We’ll have um sea get up pretty soon,” he said then, without any
change of expression.
“You’re right, I believe, Jim,” Dave agreed. “This is where we rouse
the skipper, I guess.”
Tempest frowned as he took the tiller again. He did not like the look
of things. They had taken a chance in a small open boat, and if a real
storm broke they would be entirely at its mercy, for they were many
miles from the nearest shelter.
Three minutes later the wind dropped to a dead calm and the sails hung
limp, while a curious yellow tinge developed in the northern sky.
“Now we’re in for it!” Tempest muttered. “Here Jim, you hang on to this
rudder. Dave, the mainsail, quick,” he added, letting go the sheet.
“That’s right. Now the jib――stop! It’s too late. Hang on for your life.
Here she comes.”
A furious blast struck the _Nautilus_ on the starboard quarter. The
little craft quivered and then wallowed in a welter of seething water.
The jib gave a crack like a mighty whip, one rope tore away, and
the canvas flapped madly as it hung over the side. Tempest gave one
glance at it, decided nothing could be done to make it secure in such
an emergency, and crawled to the Kanaka’s side. At all costs they
had to keep the boat running before the wind. She was slewing round
desperately, spun by the corkscrew action of the growing waves. In
an incredibly short space of time the whole surface of the ocean had
become a smother of white, boiling crests, with yawning valleys of
water between them. At one moment the trim little _Nautilus_ was buried
down, down, with great swirling walls on every side. Then she climbed,
stern first, up the side of an endless hill of green, pausing dizzily
at the crest and careening over perilously under the pressure of wind.
Instead of moderating, the gale grew steadily worse, and both Dave and
Tempest thought their end was approaching. There seemed no possible
hope of the _Nautilus_ keeping afloat. A dozen times she was on the
verge of being swamped but always struggled bravely to right herself.
“It’s my fault, lad,” Tempest said, gripping the boy’s hand. “I ought
to have had more sense.”
Dave’s face was white. He looked a little older at that fearful moment.
It was terribly hard to have to lie there, braced up against a seat,
and do nothing but wait.
“Nobody could have known this was coming,” he said quietly.
For about half an hour the storm lashed the surface of the sea with
unbridled fury, and then, with startling suddenness, the wind dropped.
Tempest did not trust this latest antic of the gale. There was
something majestic and awe-inspiring about the turbulent water without
a breath of wind blowing. He cast an eye at the jib, which now swung
like a pendulum as the _Nautilus_ rocked. At any minute the storm might
smash down on them again.
“You stop there,” he said to the boy; and made his way for’ard to save
the sail while the chance lasted. He had barely accomplished this
when the treacherous wind struck the _Nautilus_ once more. It seemed,
however, to have spent most of its energy. Warily Tempest made his
way to a locker and began fumbling in it for a sea-anchor which he
remembered was there.
“We may win out yet,” he said to Dave, with a return of his old
optimism, as he attached a few yards of rope to the canvas bag and
heaved it over the bow. The steadying effect of the dragging bag was
noticeable immediately, keeping the craft head on with its resistance.
After that there remained nothing to do but let the gale wear itself
out. It was impossible to get anything to eat or drink, for the little
craft never stopped dancing crazily. It was very near sunset when there
came a marked moderation of the wind.
“Put um sail up bimeby,” commented Jim.
“You’ve said it,” agreed Tempest. “The worst is over, and it’s getting
better all the time. This is where we thank our lucky stars, if we have
any. I don’t mind admitting now that I didn’t expect to be alive by
night. What do you say, Jim?”
Jim shrugged his shoulders. Whatever his feelings were he was not in
the habit of exhibiting them.
“We have some grub now, eh?” he said.
With this practical suggestion the others heartily agreed. Now that
immediate danger was past they felt half starved.
During the day Tempest had constantly kept an eye on his compass, and
he calculated that they must have been blown a dozen or more miles
off their course. The first thing to do was to take a reef in the main
sail and get back in the proper direction. A tremendous groundswell
was running, but the water was no longer broken. The _Nautilus_ bumped
and thudded her way through it heavily, shaking her occupants like
peas in a pan; but Tempest was able to keep her running until dawn, by
which time he considered they must be arriving somewhere near their
destination. Two islands loomed up during the forenoon, and after a
careful consultation of the chart it was decided that these probably
lay to the north of the one which they were seeking.
Tempest bent his course south accordingly, and was greatly elated a few
hours later to pick up the outline of land.