THE CHESTS ARE FOUND
The storm passed over with the rising sun; the clouds scurried away, the
wind went down, and the sun set the ocean, the shore and the tree-tops
all aglitter with a million diamonds. It seemed fortunate that there was
to be no prolonged uncertainty about the future, yet the boys dreaded to
face the conflict which manifestly lay before them.
The beach was strewn with drift from the lately wrecked vessel. Hardly a
vestige of the ship was left to mark the spot where it had gone aground.
The wreck of the Chinese ship, however, was still standing, the point
having sheltered it from the force of the waves.
Seamen were at once busy salvaging eatables from the wreckage. Various
barrels, boxes and casks, containing beef, pilot-bread, tea, coffee,
cheese and like commodities, which would prove invaluable if there was to
be a prolonged stay on the island, were piled on the shore.
“Here, you. Lend a hand,” the captain shouted to a knot of men.
The bay was quiet now. His purser, the former air pilot, had had the
landing-wheels removed from the “Dust Eater.” They were prepared to
launch her.
“That captain is a rotter,” said Pant. “He and his purser would go off
and leave us all here to starve if they could.”
Very confident of his ability, the usurping pilot took his place before
the wheel as the seamen prepared to shove the plane into the water.
Johnny Thompson had been looking on with interest when, all at once, his
eye was caught by a stranger who had silently joined the group that stood
about. He wore an oriental costume, yet he was a white man.
Johnny started. At first he thought it was the Professor who had garbed
himself in the clothing left in the cabin while his own clothing dried.
But instantly he knew he was wrong; this man’s face was too brown and too
much seamed to be that of the Professor.
Like a flash, the truth dawned upon him: This was the Professor’s
brother. He had not been drowned at the time of the wreck of the Chinese
ship, but had, somehow, saved himself after the others had been picked up
by the passing steamer. It had been he who had built the cabin by the
cliff. That explained the presence of the razor in the cabin. It
explained, too, the mystery of the missing chests; he had brought them
ashore and had hidden them somewhere on the island.
He had been hiding out, but, on seeing the ship wrecked the previous
night, had doubtless decided to cast his lot with these marooned men.
He did not have long to wait for the proof that at least some of these
conclusions were correct, for almost instantly the Professor, turning,
saw the stranger. For a second his face went white and he seemed about to
fall. He recovered himself and sprang forward, and the two men embraced
one another, like two children who had been a long time separated.
But now Johnny’s attention was attracted by a suppressed laugh from the
men about him, who had been watching the new pilot in his attempt to
start the “Dust Eater.” As he looked, he saw that the man’s face was as
black as it might have been had he smeared it with burnt cork.
What had happened was that having attempted to start the engine, and
having failed, he had climbed back to the fuel tank and there had
unscrewed the top, thinking to see if there was gasoline in it. In
attempting to look inside, he had put his face too close to the opening,
had blown into it, and the feathery coal dust with which the boys had
filled the tank had risen up in a cloud to besmirch his damp visage.
The purser was in a fine rage. He ordered the sailor who had rowed him
out to the “Dust Eater” in the canvas boat to take him ashore. Once his
feet touched the beach, he came racing toward Johnny and Pant.
“Leave this to me,” said Pant. “You and the Professor quietly drop out of
the bunch, and then make your way to the north end of the island as
quickly as possible.”
He had hardly said this than the purser was upon him:
“Smart trick!” he snarled. “Thought you’d balk us. Took out the gasoline
and filled the tank with coal dust!” He seemed about to strike Pant.
With a tiger-like spring, Pant leaped back.
“Better not.” His voice was low, like the warning hiss of a panther.
The purser hesitated.
“Let me tell you something,” Pant said evenly. “There isn’t a drop of
gasoline on this island as far as I know; not a drop in that plane,
either, but all the same, she’ll fly for a man who understands her.
“Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “You come over to the plane with
me. Look her all over. See if there is any gasoline on her. Then you let
me try to get her going. See if I can’t do it.”
“All right.” The other man’s smile showed his incredulity.
Together in the canvas boat they went out to the plane. Carefully the
purser looked the plane over, then expressing himself satisfied that
there was no gasoline on board, he seated himself carelessly astride the
fuselage, and with a mock-smile, said:
“All right. Let’s see you start her.”
Pant dropped silently into his seat. This was his chance. If he could
make a clean get-away all would be well. Johnny and the Professor would
be waiting at the north end of the island. He would pick them up and they
would fly away. They would report the wreck of the steamer at the nearest
port and leave the rest to the American consul.
Catching a quick breath, he touched a button, then pulled a lever. At
once the engine thundered. They were moving.
“Now a little quick work,” he whispered to himself.
He whirled about, and with one swing of his powerful arm pitched the
astonished purser from the fuselage into the sea. The next instant the
plane rose gracefully from the water. He was away.
The purser came up sputtering, to swim for the shore. The captain roared
at Pant, commanding him in the name of all things he knew to stop.
Bullets from a seaman’s rifle sang over his head, but all these arguments
were lost on him. He was on his way.
Taking a wide circle, that he might give his companions time to arrive at
the meeting-place, he at last swung back to the end of the island.
To his surprise, as he eased the plane down into the water, he saw, not
two men, but four, awaiting him. Besides his two companions, there was
the Professor’s brother and the little shanghaied English sailor.
There was no time for demanding and receiving explanations; not even when
he saw four large chests piled on the rocky shore did Pant ask a
question. The canvas boat had been fastened to the “Dust Eater”; it was
still there. Righting this, he pulled for the shore. The chests were
quickly tied together, and the men loaded into the boat. Then, with the
line of chests following in their wake, they pulled back to the plane.
The lashing of the chests, two back and two before the cabin, consumed
time. When this was done, Pant tumbled into his seat, the other four
piled, pell-mell, into the cabin; the motors thundered and they were
away.
They were not a moment too soon, for the captain, suspecting the move,
had ordered his men to race to the end of the island. Just as the “Dust
Eater” rose, graceful as a swan, out of the water, the first man appeared
at the top of the cliff.
“Close one!” grumbled Pant through the tube.
“Safe enough now, though,” sighed Johnny.
Their journey to a port on the largest island of the scattered group was
made in safety. The wreck was reported; then the “Dust Eater” was loaded
aboard a steamer bound for San Francisco. They were to have a safer if
not a more eventful journey home.
It was only after the four chests had been safely stowed away in a large
stateroom aboard the steamer that Johnny and Pant were let into the
secret of their contents. Then, with his brother by his side, the medical
missionary unlocked one of the chests and lifted the lid.
The two boys leaned forward eagerly.
What they saw first was nothing more than sawdust. The missionary put his
hand into this sawdust, and drew out a half-gallon can. This can had a
small screw top. This he took off, and, having poured a little of the
contents into the palm of his hand, held it out for the boys’ inspection.
“Oh!” exclaimed Johnny in surprise. “Do you mean to tell us that we have
gone through all this to save four chests of oil?”
“But wait,” said the Professor quickly. “This is no ordinary oil. It is
Russian napthalan. It is worth at the present moment, a dollar and a half
an ounce. There are sixty-four ounces in that can, seventy-five cans to
the chest, and four chests. Figure for yourself its value. But money,” he
went on in a very serious tone, “is not the principal reward. It never
is. There are in America today tens of thousands of children suffering
from a terrible skin disease. They have no relief. A salve, of which this
oil is the base, will at once relieve their condition, and in time will
cure them. To save these children, is this not a cause for which one
might gladly risk his life many times?”
“It is,” said Johnny with conviction. “I am glad we came.” In this
expression he was quickly seconded by Pant.
Later that evening, after the moon had spread a long yellow streamer
across the waters, Johnny and Pant sat in steamer chairs side by side
silently gazing across the sea. Each was busy with his own thoughts.
Johnny was going over the events of the past few months. In these months
many mysteries had leaped out of the unknown to stare him in the face and
challenge his wits to find their answers. Some had been solved; others
remained yet to be solved. There was the white fire of the factory which
had worked such wonders with steel and, closely associated with that,
were the fires that had started, apparently without cause, on the red
racer in the desert and the savages’ canoe. These remained mysteries, as
did the problem of the composition of the new steel. He wondered still if
the vial he had put away on the upper shelf of the laboratory in the
factory could possibly add some light to this problem.
Of two things he was certain: The dust-burning motor was a complete
success and the blue steel was the most marvelous steel ever invented. He
hoped that Pant and he would not now be long in revealing these facts to
those most interested. They would delight the heart of their employer and
would bring great joy to the aged inventor of the motor.
First, though, they must return from the coast to the factory with their
machine. He hoped that, by this time, they had succeeded in shaking the
contortionist off their trail.
“But you never can tell,” he whispered to himself.
As if his mind had been working on these very problems, Pant said
suddenly:
“We’ll take the boat rigging off the ‘Dust Eater’ when we reach the
Golden Gate and rig her up with landing wheels. Then we’ll fly home. What
do you say?”
“Looks like the best plan,” said Johnny. “That’ll give the motors one
more try-out and us another thrill.”
Had he known the kind of thrill it was going to be, he would doubtless
have favored shipping the plane by freight.