QUELLING A MUTINY
In the act of springing forward Phil paused. All his life he was to be
thankful for that pause. If he had yielded to the impulse to throttle
the man then and there what fate might have overtaken him and his
comrades, he shuddered to guess.
Suddenly Phil knew that the wisest thing would be to follow this
midnight marauder, this spy who prowled at night. He would find out
where he came from, the mystery of his presence here on the remote
island. Then would be time enough to punish him.
With all his senses curiously alert Phil crept to the door as the man
slipped into the shadows outside the cave. He tried to pierce the
darkness but it was almost impossible. There was no moon and it would be
necessary to follow closely upon the heels of the fellow if he were not
to lose him altogether.
Of course, because of this, it was necessary to exercise double
precaution. If the man should suspect he was being followed, should turn
around, well, then it would mean a fight to the finish there in the
darkness. Phil, fingering the revolver he always kept at his hand, was
not afraid of the result but he was afraid that, in such case, the
mystery of the man’s presence upon the island might remain unsolved.
He was thinking very clearly now, his mind curiously alert to the
slightest detail. He had not imagined the shot, then, that was certain.
Also he was convinced now that the first vision he had had of this man,
slinking out of the cave had not been a dream.
Probably the fellow had been spying for a long time. The thought wasn’t
a pleasant one. Spying—for what. Instantly the answer came to him. The
treasure of course! Stupid of him not to have thought of it before.
His mind was racing excitedly. It was hard in his whirling thoughts for
him to remember to walk silently, hard to keep track of that shadowy
figure among the shadows.
The fellow was proceeding rapidly now without exercising the slightest
caution. Apparently he was aware of no danger. Of course not, thought
Phil, grimly. He naturally thought them all asleep, unaware of his
prying. In the darkness he thanked his lucky star that he had been
sleeping lightly.
In the darkness, Phil had scant idea of the direction they were taking,
only that they seemed to be heading diagonally across the island and
that their destination—or rather, the destination of the man he was
following—seemed to be a long way off.
Naturally it must be, he thought grimly. He, in company with the rest of
the fellows had never explored the island very thoroughly, owing to
their absorption in treasure hunting. This fellow must be headed for the
very outermost edge of the island, that they had never quite reached.
It seemed an endless journey to Phil. He was constantly afraid that some
sound of his might cause the fellow to turn around and so put an end for
the time being to the solution of the mystery. And with the thought he
stepped still more carefully, moving swiftly to keep his quarry in
sight. The progress was made still more difficult because of the fallen
trunks of trees flung ruthlessly to the ground by the earthquake of the
day before.
Phil was beginning to believe that this nightmare journey was to last
forever when he noticed suddenly that the deep shadows of the night had
lifted, become mingled with red. Then he grasped the fact that the vague
light came from a fire, probably built far down in the ravine.
A moment more as he topped the rise of a small hill, he saw that this
supposition was correct. From the shore they had been climbing steadily
till now he was able to look straight down the steeply-sloping mountain
side into a snug little gully or ravine some three hundred feet below.
In this ravine flickered and flared the fire which had lifted the night
shadows. Phil saw that the man he followed was heading straight for it
and he slackened his pace. He was no longer afraid he might lose his
quarry in the dark. He could see quite clearly now, and he suddenly
realized that his need for caution was doubled.
For, gathered around the fire, revealed by the dancing flames, Phil
discovered other figures than the one he was following. From that
distance he could not count them, but there seemed a startling number.
At that moment Phil came nearer to dismay than he had ever come before
in his life. It was bad enough to know that there were other people on
this island which they had thought deserted. But the fact that one of
these intruders had been caught in the act of spying upon them, upon the
treasure, seemed to point surely to the fact that they were there for
one purpose and one purpose only. To steal the treasure!
Phil’s first feeling of astonishment and dismay was rapidly giving place
to anger. The treasure was theirs, they, of their own effort had dragged
it from the bottom of the sea. He’d like to see anybody take it away
from them!
He clenched his hands and crept closer. The man who had unwittingly led
him to this spot had disappeared among the trees and Phil followed
cautiously, careful to keep within the shadows of the trees.
It would never do for him to be found out now. Not only would his own
life be forfeited but probably those of his friends, also. And the
treasure—at the thought he clenched his hands still tighter, gritted
his teeth fiercely and crept closer, ever closer to that flickering
fire.
He was near enough now to see the features of the men gathered about it.
They were a villainous-looking crew if there ever was one, the scum of a
West Indian port, half-breeds most of them, sullen-looking rascals who
looked as though they would stop at no villainy.
There were a score of them, counting the rascal he had been trailing who
now stepped within the circle of firelight. Phil gave a start that was
almost audible as he saw the man’s face. It was Ramirez—Ramirez of the
evil face and ready knife.
Quite suddenly the whole thing became clear to him. Ramirez, knowing of
the secret contained in the pirate’s notes in the possession of Jack
Benton, had either gotten wind of their mission in San Domingo, or had
guessed at it. On the strength of his story it would be easy to get
together a gang of cutthroats, a band of villainous adventurers and
follow them to the island with the purpose of eventually getting
possession of the treasure.
Something told Phil that these men would stop at nothing and his anger
grew to a kind of fury. He had the mad impulse to charge the whole
dastardly crew of them, to fling himself upon them single-handed.
If he had had only himself to consider, he might have done it too. But
he thought of his comrades and the treasure and knew that he must move
cautiously.
Ramirez, evidently the leader of the rascally crew was speaking, and
Phil crept closer, careful to keep well without the circle of firelight.
He strained his ears to hear the muttered words of the half-breed. He
must learn their plans. Even from this distance he could see that
Ramirez was excited, his deep-set eyes were glowing feverishly.
“All is well,” Phil heard him say to his sullen-eyed audience. “They
have found the treasure. I have seen it with these own eyes, hidden in
the cave where they leave it unguarded—the fools!”
At his words, the eyes of the motley crew glowed with the gleam of
avarice and they waxed tremendously excited. They gestured wildly with
their arms, each one gabbling in a different tongue.
Ramirez’s brow grew dark. He made an ominous movement with his hand
toward the gun on his hip. The men regarded him with a sort of
half-cowed fury. Most of them fell to conversing again in low, excited
mutterings.
Only one among them seemed to have the courage—or the avarice—to defy
his chief. This seemed, like most of them, to be a mixture of two
nationalities, half-English, half-Spanish. He talked in broken English.
“I say to you,” he cried with a menacing gesture toward Ramirez who
looked at him stolidly, “that we will not wait longer. Always you say
‘wait, wait.’ The treasure, the gold, is there, you tell us that. We go
get it to-night, now. Is it not so?” He turned to the men about the
fire, who, muttering ominously, had half risen to their feet.
Phil, forgetting his own danger, watched fascinated. Mutiny! If the men
got their way, then indeed were he and his friends and the treasure
doomed. He would not even have a chance to warn them.
Ramirez, who had been standing motionless, his black eyes fixed on the
mutinous crew, reached suddenly for his revolver. Almost with the same
motion came the report.
The man who had defied him, stood where he was for a moment, a foolish
expression spreading over his villainous features, then, without a sound
sank to the ground.
“Take him away,” commanded Ramirez, seating himself, with the utmost
indifference to the fate of his victim, near the fire. “That, my
comrades, will be the fate of each one of you who defy me, Ramirez. I
say wait. Therefore we wait. And I tell you why.”
Then while two of the men removed the ghastly huddled heap from the
grass, Ramirez proceeded to give his reason for delaying the attack.
Phil listened eagerly. Half-sickened as he was by what he had seen, he
knew he must keep his senses intensely alert.
“They have not recovered all of the treasure,” said Ramirez. “I hear
them talk. They have three chests. There are more. When they have them
all, then we shall take them from them. We shall be rich and they—they
shall be dead.” His mouth stretched in an evil grin.
Phil waited for no more. Silently, as he had come, he slipped away into
the darkness.