HISTORY REPEATS
For a moment after Sackett made his startling statement the two boys
could only stand and stare at him. At last Jim spoke up.
“You are taking us to Mexico?” he cried.
“Exactly!” mocked the outlaw. “We can’t afford to have you two boys
hanging around while we are looking for that treasure. So we are going
to put you in cold storage for a time!”
“Mexico isn’t exactly cold storage,” murmured Terry. “Bum joker, this
Sackett man!”
“You’ll find out it ain’t a joke,” said Sackett, as the sails were run
into place. “It’ll be a long time before you boys get home again.”
“You’ll run into a lot of trouble over this,” Jim warned.
“Trouble is something I’m used to,” Sackett grinned. He turned to the
villainous-looking captain of the schooner. “Captain Jake Ryan, keep
your eyes on these boys and put them ashore where I tell you. I’m going
ashore at Peso myself, so I make you responsible for them.”
“You needn’t be afraid they’ll get away from me,” the captain growled,
looking them over keenly. “They’re nothing but kids!”
“Yes, but they’re pretty slippery ones,” warned Sackett. “Come down in
the cabin with me.”
The two men, followed by Abel, left the boys and walked off. Jim looked
at Terry and the latter shrugged his shoulders.
“Looks like we’re in for it now,” the red-headed boy remarked.
“I’m afraid we are,” Jim replied, in a low voice. “But we must get away.
If we are carried to Mexico there is no telling when we will ever get
home again.”
“True enough, but I don’t recommend starting anything with this crew,”
said Terry.
The crew was indeed a rough looking outfit, apparently picked up in many
ports and composed of rascals of every sort. They wore no uniforms and
were seemingly expert in their trade, by which sign the boys took it
that they had spent most of their life on board sailing vessels. They
represented different nationalities and were a hardy and bold set of
men, who would not stop at any kind of trade so long as it promised them
gain of some sort.
“I’ll bet the police of many a town would like to see these fellows,”
was Jim’s estimate of them.
The ship was rapidly leaving that portion of the coast where Jim and
Terry had come aboard and was heading south. That meant that they
intended to round off the tip of Lower California and run up the shore
of Mexico, probably in one of the wildest portions of the tropical
country. The boys looked once or twice over the side, but they knew it
would be foolish to jump over, since they would be shot or overtaken by
a boat before reaching the shore. There was nothing left for them to do,
therefore, but to make the best of the situation.
They wandered over the deck of the schooner, forgetting in their
interest that they were captives. Jim and Terry had done enough sailing
to know something about sailing ships, and this ancient schooner
interested them greatly. It had evidently been in active service for
years, for it was battered and beaten by many storms and its decks were
worn deeply in spots. The vast expanse of sails overhead, close hauled
in the wind, drew their eyes in admiration, even though the sails were
dirty and patched. The crew worked busily around the rigging, coiling
ropes and stowing loose equipment, paying no attention to the boys, much
as though taking prisoners was an every-day affair with them. The boys
noted that two of the men worked apart from the main crew and looked to
be men of a better stamp than the rank and file.
After a short run down the coast a tiny village appeared on the coast
and once opposite it Sackett and the mate appeared on deck. The town was
that of Peso and the captain of the _Galloway_ ordered the boat over the
side. Sackett and Abel entered the boat and then looked up to where Jim
and Terry leaned over the rail.
“Goodbye, boys,” mocked the bay pirate. “If we run across the other
members of your party we’ll give them your regards, shall we?”
Jim only glowered, but Terry raised his slouched camping hat. “Why Mr.
Sackett!” he exclaimed sweetly. “How very lovely of you! If I were only
nearer to you I would kiss your sweet face for that kind thought!”
The crew of the _Galloway_ broke into broad grins and the captain
chuckled. Sackett’s face grew red and he half rose from his seat in the
long boat. But Abel pulled him down again.
“Quit fooling with those kids and let’s go,” he said, and Sackett sat
down, after saying something fiery through his set teeth. The sailors
pulled on their oars and the long boat shot through the water to the
shore. When the two men had been set on shore the boat returned, and the
schooner continued on its way.
Up to that time the air had been clear and the water untroubled, but a
change gradually developed.
A slight haze sprang up over the water and the air became thicker.
Little choppy waves began to form, and before long the schooner was
beginning to rock with increasing force.
In the bow there was a commotion. A lookout in the crow’s nest had
called something down, and the captain came hurrying on deck. The boys
soon discovered a large black schooner to the west of them, some four
miles off, and the sight of it appeared to alarm the crew. Acting under
orders from the captain they crowded on more sail and began to run
before the wind. It was a move that was not particularly wise under the
increasing strength of the rising wind, and the two boys were puzzled.
“Terry,” said Jim, as he stood in the stern watching the schooner in the
distance. “These fellows are running away from that ship!”
Terry looked with increasing interest and found that Jim was right. The
schooner behind them was also crowding on sail, heeling over in the wind
but running toward them in a direct line. The crew of the _Galloway_ was
now fully on the alert and obeying the shouted orders of the skipper.
The two men who had attracted the attention of the boys by their
difference in looks compared to the rest of the motley crew, looked
eagerly toward the oncoming schooner until they were literally driven to
work by Captain Ryan.
As may be imagined the boys watched the chase with an interest that was
painful. The outcome of it meant everything to them. They had no idea
who could be on the pursuing schooner, but whoever it was would be sure
to release them if they overhauled the _Galloway_. When the crew of the
schooner ran out a small cannon Terry whistled in surprise.
“This is no comedy,” he remarked. “These fellows mean business.”
The sky to the south had turned an ominous black and the wind was now
shrieking through the shrouds of the schooner. Cursing aloud Ryan
ordered sail taken in, and the crew sprang aloft, running along the
ropes in a way that took away the breath of the watching boys. The
oncoming schooner was also forced to take in canvas but it did not give
up the chase. The waves, an hour ago, so calm and peaceful, were now
mountain high, raging and boiling along the sides of the laboring ship.
“History repeats itself!” exclaimed Jim, suddenly.
“What do you mean?” blinked Terry.
“Why, it’s just like the story of the galleon! We are being pursued by
an enemy and a storm is surely going to close over us! See the point?”
“Yes, I do. Confound this storm, anyway! If it wasn’t for it I believe
those fellows in back would overtake us!” cried Terry.
“I never saw a storm come up so rapidly,” said Jim.
In that part of the Pacific storms rise with incredible swiftness and it
was such a storm, half cyclonic, as now burst over the pursued and the
pursuer. In a twinkling of an eye the ship to the rear vanished from
sight as the _Galloway_ staggered into a yawning trough. The boys had
all they could do to hang on as the deck slanted under their feet, and
they were soaked to the waist by the wash that flooded the deck. A
single slashing flash of lightening flared in the sky.
“Do you think we had better go below, so as not to be washed overboard?”
shouted Terry above the whine of the wind.
“Nothing doing!” roared Jim, his voice sounding like a whisper above the
crash of the waves. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything!”
So they hung on to the rear mast and the ropes, keenly alive to the
picture of action which was going on before them. They could see the men
busy at the sails, pulling ropes, furling, lashing fast and jumping as
the skipper signalled his commands. They had been forgotten in the
excitement of the storm, and so were free to watch what was going on.
They knew that the pursuing schooner would never haul down on them now.
The captain was at the wheel helping the helmsman, and between the two
of them they could scarcely control the wild plunging of the schooner.
The boys watched with fascination as wave after wave reared up before
the schooner, to curl and break over the bow and come thundering over
the deck in a mad swirl. At such times they were wet to the waist but
they did not mind that, so interested were they in the events of the
moment. Their hands ached from holding onto ropes but they stuck to
their perilous post.
“They are running in too close to the shore!” shouted Terry in Jim’s
ear.
“They should know the coast well enough to do it,” Jim returned.
He had scarcely spoken when there was a slight scraping and grinding
sound and the men at the wheel spun the helm rapidly. The _Galloway_
swung further away from the shore, listing dangerously as it did so. One
of the crew ran down the companionway and reappeared soon afterward,
making his way to the captain.
“She scraped a ledge that time,” called Jim and Terry nodded.
It was now so black that the boys could scarcely see before them. The
captain spoke rapidly with the man, who was the mate, and the officer
quickly singled one or two men from the crew and then made his way over
the bounding lurching deck to the boys. Placing his wet mouth near their
ears he shouted: “Get on the pumps! We’re leaking!”
Without loss of time the boys followed him across the deck to where the
pumps were located. Two men had already seized the handle of one pump
and were bending their backs to the task, pumping up and down with all
their strength. At a signal from the mate the two boys took hold of the
handle of a second pump and fell to the urgent task.
A thick stream of water shot out of the end of the pump and they knew
that the lower part of the schooner was filling rapidly with water. It
seemed to them that there was no use in pumping, but they realized that
it was their only chance. No life-boat could live in those seas and it
was a case of keep the ship from going down under their feet under the
added weight of the water that was pouring into the hold, where a seam
had been opened up by the ledge over which they had scraped. So they
worked with a will, moving the handle up and down, until their backs,
totally unused to the work, ached with the tiring strain of it. A
continual stream of water rushed from the mouth of the pump with every
stroke.
They were soon gasping for breath and both of them longed for the moment
when two other men would relieve them. The two on the other pump kept at
it grimly, somewhat more used to the work, moving automatically,
unmindful of the stinging waves that slapped them from each side. The
schooner pitched and rolled and bucked, now on top of a wave and now
sinking deep into a trough.
To their unspeakable relief they saw two more men approach with the mate
to take over their task. The captain had realized that they would not
last long at the cruel task, and had sent relief. The men were coming
toward them, were almost to them.
There was a sharp grinding sound and the schooner crashed hard aground.
Every man who was standing went over like a stick of wood. Down came the
rigging in a tumbled, confused mass, the forward mast snapped off sharp,
the bow seemed to crumple like paper. Terry and Jim were torn from the
pump handle and hurled through the air, to land like playthings in a
smother of foam and swirling water. All became black in an instant,
there was a sucking sound and the schooner settled down in the water
with a shudder.