“It was MacDuffy,” continued the lad, “who organized an expedition to go
to your father’s rescue. There was MacDuffy, Captain Andrews, four
seamen and myself. The rest were left in charge of the _Sea King_, the
engine-room force having instructions to proceed with the repairs to the
shaft, which were really simple enough, consisting only of bolting a
collar of metal around the split.
“We were heavily armed, as you may imagine, and after we had landed in
the light boat, we stowed it in the brush where it would not be likely
to be discovered by marauders. The other boat, the one in which your
father landed, had been stove in by those rascally natives. Our first
task after this, was to bury poor Kettle as decently as we could. This
done, we took up the trail, which was plain enough to follow. In fact,
we learned afterward, it was a regular path that the natives followed
when they came to the coast after turtles and fish.
“Danger? Well, we knew we were going into a desperate game, but, as
MacDuffy said, we couldn’t do otherwise than our best to rescue your
father. As we made our way through the jungle we discussed the
situation. It looked black and no mistake. In the first place, as
Captain Andrews pointed out, the revolution was raging in northern
Mexico, and Diaz, in his last desperate stand, had withdrawn troops from
every province in Mexico. Captain Andrews told us that the descendants
of the Mayas, who inhabited this part of Yucatan, were endowed with a
fierce hatred of Mexicans and white men in general, and that they had
been kept in subjugation solely by the presence of large bodies of
troops. With this menace to their warlike ideas withdrawn, the Mayas
were probably ripe for any mischief.
“All this, as you can imagine, didn’t tend to raise our spirits, and the
prospect of rescuing your father began to seem remote indeed. Well, to
cut a long story short, we followed the trail for two days till we began
to arrive in the foothills of the range we had seen. Occasionally we
came across what were evidently the sites of recent camps, so we knew
that we were on the track all right.
“The third day, about noon, we marched right out of a canyon, threaded
by a swift river, into an Indian settlement. Before we could say
‘knife,’ or raise a weapon, we were surrounded and made captives. We
were thrown into a palm-thatched hut and placed under strict guard, and
we faced the prospect of a speedy death. But at the moment we thought
little of these matters, for the hut already contained three other
captives, and they were Professor Chadwick, Abner Jennings and Jack
Allworthy, the last wounded in the shoulder by the spear thrust that had
knocked him down, but luckily not seriously.
“You can guess how delighted we were in the first few moments, and then
how depressed we all became as we began to realize that so far as an
escape was concerned we might as well have been imprisoned in an
iron-walled dungeon. We were deprived of nothing in the way of food, and
were not bound in any way, but the hut was surrounded by too strong a
guard to make any idea of escape practicable. So the night passed, a
night that we spent in discussing and rejecting a hundred plans of
escape, for each, in turn, was discarded as hopeless.
“But, although we did not realize it, freedom for some of us was close
at hand. Shortly before noon the sky became black as night. A screaming
sort of wind arose, and suddenly we felt the ground under our feet
beginning to rock. It didn’t take us long to catch on that the
disturbance was caused by an earthquake of uncommon severity. The
natives began to howl and yell, and rushed about like madmen. That wind
suddenly picked up our prison and whisked it off, just as it might have
dealt with an umbrella. And there we stood, in the middle of all this
commotion, unbound and practically free to go where we would, for the
natives were far too busy attending to their own affairs to worry about
us.
“In the middle of the uproar and the convulsions of the earth, a whole
section of the cliff which upreared itself at the back of the
settlement, slid down with a roar like a hundred Niagaras. It caught
that village, just as a big rock would smash an anthill. We escaped by
the skin of our teeth, but, as it was, we were showered with flying
rocks and earth. Luckily, none of us was injured.
“But those poor natives fared otherwise. Of the scores that had been
rushing about an instant before hardly twenty remained. One of these was
a big fellow, with a beautiful copper-colored skin, clad in a sort of
garment made out of jaguar hide. He separated from the rest, and we saw
that he carried under his arm a large box, or case, which gleamed dully
in the gloom.
“‘He’s making for the canoes!’ shouted MacDuffy suddenly, and then, sure
enough, we saw what we hadn’t noticed before in all that hurly-burly,
namely, that several dugouts were moored to the river bank. I guess we
all caught the inspiration at the same instant. Anyhow, we began running
for the bank at top speed. But suddenly that copper-colored giant faced
about, and we now saw that he carried a whole quiver full of those
poisoned darts that the Maya tribes use with deadly effect.
“Before he could aim one, or shout to the rest of the villagers, who
hadn’t noted our escape, Abner Jennings flew at him like a wildcat. Down
he went, bowled over like a ninepin, under a crashing blow from
Jennings’ fist.
“‘Hurray, lads! Now for the boats!’ shouted Allworthy, and we scampered
after him toward them. But at that instant a queer thing happened. A man
came racing toward us from amidst the ruins of the village.
“‘Get him!’ yelled Allworthy savagely, as Jennings stooped and picked up
a big rock.
“But the next instant his hand dropped to his side. The man was white!
In spite of his half-naked condition and sun-browned skin, it was clear
enough that he was as much of a Caucasian as any of us, and then came
the wonderful part of it all.
“‘In the name of heaven, white men, stop!’ he shouted, ‘take me with
you. I am——’”
“Jasper Jesson!”
It was Tom Jesson who had uttered the exclamation. In a flash of
intuition he had seen what was coming before Ned uttered it. The lad
literally quivered with excitement as he spoke.
“Right. It was your father, Tom,” rejoined Ned. “Professor Chadwick
stopped, ran back and embraced him. For a minute we all stood stock
still, rooted there by sheer amazement, I guess. Well, we got to the
canoes and set out down the river. There were four dugouts, and the way
they dashed down that stretch of water was a caution. No need to paddle.
The current just tore along for several miles. I don’t see how it was we
didn’t upset, but the fact remains that we didn’t. Pretty soon we
reached a part of the stream where another flowed into it, and it
broadened out and grew calmer.
“Then, for the first time, we felt free to talk. We hauled the canoes
ashore and camped while we discussed plans. But first, you may imagine,
we heard Mr. Jesson’s story. He had been captured by the tribe who had
trapped us, soon after his arrival in the country. And their prisoner he
had remained since. Undoubtedly he would have been put to death, but he
had by great good luck managed to translate some cryptograms carved in
the marble stones of some ruins in the mountains, and after that they
looked on him as a sort of god. At any rate, he was well treated, but
given no chance to escape. The earthquake that had set us loose had
proved his opportunity, too. Of course, it’s no use my trying to give
you any idea of his delight and astonishment at finding his
brother-in-law and getting news of you, Tom, and of the old home.
“He had just about concluded his story, when Mr. Chadwick drew from
under his coat that same metal box that we had seen the big
copper-colored fellow skedaddling with. He had taken it from the chap as
he lay stunned, rightly guessing that it was of immense value. But he
was far from surmising what it was he had really discovered, till a few
moments later.
“‘Maybe, Jesson,’ he said, ‘you can tell me what kind of a box this is.
It’s silver, all right, for one thing, but it’s covered with some sort
of picture writing, too, and——’
“But Tom’s father interrupted him with a shout.
“‘Good heavens, man!’ he exclaimed, ‘you’ve got hold of the holy of
holies of the Zakaks,’——that’s the name of the tribe that had hooked us.
“While we all looked on with open mouths, Mr. Jesson broke a long thorn
off a prickly bush growing near at hand and shoved it into a small hole
in the front of the box. The lid flew open, and there inside was
something that made us blink our eyes,—a blood-red stone, a blue one,
and a gorgeous green gem.
“We all caught our breath, I can tell you. Each stone was as big as a
pigeon’s egg, and it didn’t take an expert to tell that we had before us
a ruby, a turquoise and an emerald that had, probably, not their equals
in the world.
“Then Mr. Jesson told us how the tribe had a legend that those stones
were brought from some, mysterious land beyond the seas by their
fore-runners, and that if they were stolen or lost disaster would
overtake them. At certain phases of the moon, he said, the stones were
worshiped with all sorts of queer rites that he had not been permitted
to witness.
“We, none of us, could guess what they were worth, but it was a safe
estimate that they represented a snug fortune. As for the box itself, it
was, as I said, of dull silver, with three sort of oval bosses or bumps
on its cover. These were of a reddish color, and were evidently of no
value except as ornaments. After some more talk it was decided to make
for the Texan coast, and as soon as we had regained the yacht, get into
wireless communication with you lads.
“Professor Chadwick explained that he had had a half-formed intention of
attempting to find Mr. Jesson before he left America, and for that
reason had sent you boys to Lone Island so that he might notify you of
his success by wireless as soon as possible, without letting the general
public know, and also have you handy in case of an emergency.”
“So that explains Lone Island,” struck in Jack, “but go on, Ned. I can
hardly wait for the rest of your story.”
“Neither can I,” added Tom; “but aren’t you fellows surprised that we
don’t hear anything from outside?”
“It is strange,” agreed Jack. “I’ll run up again soon.”
“Well,” continued Ned, “we knew that by following the river we must
emerge on the coast, probably near to the spot where the yacht was
anchored. We therefore lost no time in re-embarking and getting on our
way once more. Luckily, there was some food, bananas and dried flesh of
some animal,—deer, most likely,—in the canoes, which must have been
provisioned for a trip. So that night, when we camped, we had a good
supper, with something left over for the next day.
“We slept under the canoes, turning them keel up to form a protection
from the dews, and also from any prowling animals. The spot we had
chosen was well back in the brush, so that in case of pursuit we had a
good hiding place. But we slept without interruption, taking watch in
turn. The next morning, before it was well light, we set out down the
river again, and that afternoon we had reason to think we were close to
the coast. The character of the jungle on either side of the river
changed and the stream grew wider and more sluggish.
“So far we had had no indication that we were not the only human beings
in that part of the country, so you can imagine our astonishment when,
about mid-afternoon, on rounding a bend in the stream, we beheld a
squat, drab-colored craft, without spars or funnel, moored to the bank.
It didn’t need a second glance to tell us that she was a fighting craft
of some kind. On her decks were the outlines of several rapid-fire guns
shrouded under canvas covers. Her bow was shaped like a ram, and we
could see by the rows of rivets along her sides that she was built of
steel.
“‘That’s one of the new shoal-draft, gasolene gunboats, built for the
Diaz government at the Vulcan yards in Charlestown,’ declared Professor
Chadwick at once.
“He had hardly spoken when several of the crew, who had been lounging
about the decks, saw us coming. There was an instant stir on board the
ugly-looking craft, and presently the figure of a small, dark-skinned
man, with a black, pointed beard and moustache, and heavy, sinister
eyebrows, appeared on the bridge, which was just forward of a sort of
conning tower.
“He wore white garments and a broad-brimmed Panama hat. As soon as he
appeared he hailed us.
“‘Come alongside, gentlemen,’ he said, using almost perfect English. ‘I
welcome you to _El Tarantula_.’”