A CONTRABAND CARGO
"Well, what d'you know about that?" queried Billy, easily relapsing
into slang when the first few minutes' surprise had worn off.
"Dunno much about it," Captain Vinton answered in a somewhat gruff
tone, "but it looks to me mighty like a filibuster's craft, or p'rhaps
a smuggler's."
At the word "filibuster," the boys---figuratively speaking---pricked
up their ears.
"What on earth can they be trying to smuggle?" was Hugh's eager
question, to which the captain replied promptly:
"Arms,---leastways, cartridges or gunpowder. They ain't tryin' to
smuggle 'em _into_ Fluridy, but _out_ of it," he explained. "Some
gang of raskils is buyin' small quantities of war goods up state---or
else from Cuby---totin' 'em down the coast an' through th' Everglades,
and gettin' 'em aboard some steamboat like that one, and so away where
they'll do the most harm. Get me?"
"Yes," replied Alec, "but I never would have thought such tricks were
possible in these days."
"Boy, you can't never tell what's just possible or what ain't, in
these days," gravely asserted Captain Vinton. "All sorts o' things
is like to happen, and sometimes it's durned hard to know just what's
goin' on. But if that's any filibustin' outfit, they'd better make
tracks out o' these waters as fast as they can lay beam to wind'ard."
So saying, he shifted the helm again and bore away at an angle that
would enable them to come close to the revenue cutter, now scarcely
a quarter of a mile astern. Lighter and lighter came the wind,
slower glided the _Arrow_ over the long heavy swells, nearer and
nearer came the cutter, going at a steady, rapid rate. Soon the two
vessels were within hailing distance, and a megaphone call came
across the water, clear and distinct:
"Sloop, ahoy! Can you understand?"
"Aye, aye!" called Vinton.
The five boys gathered around him, eager to hear the interchange of
calls. Even Dave rose and shambled over to the little group at the
tiller. On the other vessel they could now see a number of men in
blue uniforms and one in a civilian's suit of gray tweeds.
"Who've you got aboard?" came the next question from the captain of
the _Petrel_.
Vinton briefly stated his passenger list and explained the purpose of
their cruise.
"Bound for Key West now?" shouted the _Petrel's_ captain, whom
Vinton, studying him through the marine glass, recognized as James
Kelsey. "Trying to dodge that craft that just passed us, or trying
to catch her?"
"We were goin' to report as how we seen her las' night off Snipe
Point," bawled Vinton, speaking through a megaphone which Dave had
handed to him. "Thought you fellows were at Key West."
"We were until this morning," came the answer. "We've been chasing
that boat. She's the _Esperanza_, a smuggler. Have you seen her
throwing anything overboard, or picking up stuff---like boxes or
small kegs?"
Then a light of understanding broke upon Vinton's mind. So that was
what the smuggler had been doing all night! Not grappling for the
cable, but stealthily picking up a contraband cargo of munitions of
war, small stores such as could be cast adrift along the coast in
some prearranged method and gathered in by those who had been
instructed to recognize the floating objects! What were they?
Water-tight kegs of dynamite, submerged, but buoyed up by thrice
their weight of corks? Boxes of rifle bullets? Or merely harmless
glass bottles containing, perhaps, written descriptions of the country
to be invaded, photographs of fortifications, details of naval or
military equipment?
The answer was not long forthcoming.
"Ain't seen her pick up anything," shouted Vinton, "but reckon that's
her lay. What's she after?"
"Dynamite."
"By thunder!" ejaculated the captain in a low tone of awe.
"Yes, that's just what they'll do, if they can," Billy commented with
one of his irrepressible grins. "They'll buy thunder. You've said
it, Cap! But what'll they use it for?"
Vinton paid not the slightest heed to Billy's poor pun. Instead,
while Alec gave Billy a dig in the ribs, the captain put the same
question to Kelsey.
"Oh, you know they've started another one of those dinky revolutions
in Panama, two generals fighting for the presidency," explained
Kelsey. He no longer was obliged to shout curtailed messages
through his megaphone, but spoke through it in a tone only a few
degrees louder than ordinarily; for the sloop and the steamer
were now almost alongside. "Well, the U.S. and Cuba want to stay
entirely out of the little war game; but one side of the revolution,
the Visteros, are sore at Uncle Sam and trying to make him take
a hand. They've got agents in all the Gulf states, in Cuba and
Hayti, and they're trying to stir up trouble."
What kind o trouble?
"Any old kind. They're not particular as to the brand. It's war
stores they want, and discontented loafers for soldiers of fortune.
And the Visteros are stealing dynamite to threaten the Canal."
"Bosh!" roared Vinton in a loud guffaw. "They couldn't do it! Let
'em try!"
"Yes,---let 'em! But meanwhile, we're out to put the kibosh on this
smuggling. By the way, Vinton, now that you've made your report, you
can turn around again when you've got the wind, and go back up along
the coast. No need to go to Key West now."
"Hum-mp!" grunted Dave. "Waste time, get sick---all for nuthin'!"
"Shut up, you greasy Seminole!" muttered Vinton, and he turned away
scornfully. "All right, we will," he called to the _Petrel_. "What
you goin' to do?"
"First find out if that craft hid anything over there behind that key
where she was lying, and then follow her."
More confabbing of an unimportant and general nature followed
between Vinton and Kelsey and the man in tweeds, who was evidently
the special correspondent of some newspaper. At the end of the
conference, Kelsey called out:
"Well, I guess we'll mosey on, Lem. Goodby and good luck to you.
If you meet any smugglers in the upper 'glades or along the coast,
send word to Tampa; they'll rush a cutter with some of the Gulf police
to the spot. Keep a sharp eye on strange-looking craft, will you?"
"Aye, aye!" responded the _Arrow's_ captain, little knowing into what
adventures this pursuit of smugglers would lead him and his crew.
In a few minutes the _Petrel_ had swung about and was heading in the
direction from which the _Esperanza_ had appeared. The _Arrow_ was
left becalmed and drifting on the heavy swells of the Gulf; but her
crew, excited by the prospect of encountering freebooters of the main,
forgot to be seasick, even if they had been so inclined, and fell to
preparing their noonday meal.
Vinton tilted his cap over his left eye and surveyed the trim _Arrow_
with frank satisfaction, at the conclusion of their repast.
"All shipshape, boys? Good! Reckon I'll let one of you steer awhile,
and hit my bunk for an hour or two. There'll be wind out'n the
sou'east, later on; and then I'll take charge again. All you've got
to do now is to turn her around, with her nose pointin' yonder,"---he
waved a hand toward the distant Sanibel Islands that stretch along
the coast south of Charlotte Harbor,---"and take 'vantage of every
puff of wind that you can use for tackin'. Understand?"
They signified their readiness to manage the sloop, once she had gone
well beyond any reefs or bars, and they drew lots to see who should
be first to take the captain's place while he rested. The draw,
fell to Chester and he took charge of the helm. Alec came next,
then Billy took his turn, and finally Hugh. While one steered, the
others kept a look-out for the erratic _Esperanza_, thinking it
might again appear from some unexpected quarter. Mark and Roy
Norton lounged in the bow and lazily swapped fishing stories, not at
all averse to leaving the work to the rest.
With the departure of the _Petrel_ on her return to the waters near
Snipe Point, and with a barely-perceptible rise of wind, the sloop
_Arrow_ laid a zigzag course toward the Ten Thousand Islands and
came abreast of them about five o'clock. Beyond a broad inlet that
led into the bay, a white sand beach, sparsely overgrown with
crabgrass and waving palmettos, indicated to Dave that they were
near one of his old camping places. He called Captain Vinton's
attention to it, hinting that it would be a good place to spend
the night.
"Why not aboard the sloop?" queried Vinton, though he knew perfectly
well that Dave would seek any excuse to stretch his unseaworthy limbs
on _terra firma_ in preference to tossing on the bosom of old ocean.
"Bad weather comin',---windy to-night," said the Seminole prophet,
pointing to a bank of jagged slaty-gray clouds that was rising in the
west over the gulf.
"Reckon you're right, Dave. If that brings half the wind its looks
promise, I'd ruther have these keys between it and us---eh? There's
anuther squall brewin' out yonder. Come on, let's go ashore, lads."
Making in shoreward, the _Arrow_ presently cast anchor off a shallow
cove "inside" the nearest bar. All five boys got into the sloop's
dory, and after landing the others on the beach, Hugh rowed back to
the sloop to bring the captain, Norton and the guide ashore. When
they landed, they discovered Billy and Alec, Chester and Mark
engaged in examining a big battered tin box, locked, with its cover
sealed up with black sealing wax, which they had found half buried
in the sand.
"What is it? What have you got there?" Hugh asked quickly, running
forward.
"It looks like part of Captain Kidd's buried treasure!" said Billy,
whose eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
"Nothing of the sort!" declared matter-of-fact Chester. "It's
probably a lot of old maps and charts."
"Let's open it and see," was Alec's advice.
But the captain interposed.
"Let it alone, boys," he said. "It's marked with a small initial 'B.'
That may stand for Bego or---bait."