Two days later found the _Morning Star_, after much struggling
against baffling winds, bowling along under a favoring breeze. Uncle
Toby rubbed his hands as he looked aloft at the canvas, every foot
of which was smartly drawing and urging the schooner forward.
Even Mr. Terrill’s face had lost its customary sour look. He stood
conversing amidships with the mate, whose name was Jarrow. Jarrow
was squat and broad and had a squint in his bloodshot eyes that gave
him an expression that was not prepossessing.
“I wonder what those two are talking about,” remarked Jack to
Raynor, as the two lads stood on the stern deck. “Somehow I’ve got
it into my head that they and part of the crew are in a plot.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Raynor, giving a glance round to
see that Noddy, who was splicing a rope, was not listening. Up
forward Pompey could be seen aiding the _Morning Star’s_ cook.
“Just this, and nothing more than the fact that they are always
consulting together, and I’ve noticed that Jarrow talks to the crew
more than a mate should. I’ve told Noddy and Pompey to be on the
lookout and see if they can find out what’s going on. I’m certain
some dirty work is brewing.”
Just then Jarrow looked round and caught Jack’s eye fixed on him. He
nudged Mr. Terrill, and the two moved apart. Mr. Terrill favored
Jack with a malevolent scowl as he passed him.
“He certainly does love me,” laughed the boy, careless if Terrill
overheard him or not.
“We ought to be off Cedar Island to-morrow, lads,” said Uncle Toby,
strolling up, “on Tom Tiddler’s ground picking up gold and silver.”
“Haven’t you ever thought there might be a possibility of the stone
chest being gone?” asked Jack, “that is, if it was ever there?”
His uncle looked at him as if he had uttered some terrible heresy.
“Why, of course it’s there,” he declared, stamping his wooden leg;
“where else: would it be? Didn’t Cap’n Walters say----”
“Deck ahoy!” came from the lookout forward.
“Ahoy,” roared Uncle Toby, “what’s up?”
“There is a mist right ahead and what looks like the top of a
mountain,” came back the reply.
“Can it be Cedar Island?” wondered Jack.
“No, it’s not Cedar Island,” declared his uncle, “we couldn’t have
made a landfall of that yet. Wait a brace of shakes and I’ll see
what it is.”
With extraordinary agility he clambered into the weather main
shrouds, bracing himself by thrusting his wooden leg through the
ratlines. Then he clapped his glasses to his eyes. A puzzled look
came over his weather-beaten countenance.
“Blessed if I know what it is,” he growled. “Looks more like a fire
than anything else.”
Just then the bell sounded for dinner, a summons to which the boys
were never deaf. When they came on deck again after the meal, an
extraordinary scene met their gaze. The schooner was going fast
through moderately smooth water, but a quarter of a mile ahead the
sea was covered with a milky white mist under which the waves boiled
and tumbled in wild confusion. As they looked from the body of the
mist, there was belched a dense cloud of black smoke.
“Port! Hard aport!” bawled Cap’n Toby, and he himself sprang to the
wheel and aided the helmsman in carrying out the maneuver, “flatten
in those head sails! Look smart, now!”
The _Morning Star_ shot off on a new tack just in time to avoid
sailing right into the midst of the bubbling, boiling water, for the
breeze had dropped and her progress was slower.
“What on earth is it?” demanded Raynor of Captain Toby.
“It’s a subterranean eruption!” shouted the captain. “I’ve heard of
such in these parts. Sir John Franklin saw ’em. Look! Look yonder!”
A cable’s length off, a great black patch of what glistened like
mud, rose out of the sea. It bubbled and blistered like baking
dough. Thick columns of smoke rose all round it, and jets of steam
shot from holes in its surface.
The breeze suddenly veered. A fierce gust, laden with steam and
smoke, swept down on the _Morning Star_.
The sailors shouted with alarm. Mr. Terrill turned the color of
parchment.
“Is-there-is--er-that is, are we in danger?” he stammered.
“Dunno yet,” snapped Uncle Toby, “consarn that thar wind, it’s
coming frum every which way at once. Reg’lar Irishman’s hurricane.”
A fearful stench, sulphurous and choking, enveloped them with the
cloud of noxious vapors. They coughed and choked as if they were
being suffocated.
“Oh-oh, this is terrible,” wheezed Mr. Terrill, “oh, dear! oh, dear,
are we all going to die? Ugh! ugh! I wish I’d never come on this
trip.”
“Don’t talk so much and waste your breath, and you’ll feel better,”
advised Jack.
Even in his misery and fright, Terrill shot the boy a malevolent
look, but he said nothing.
A rushing, roaring sound was heard, as the _Morning Star_ suddenly
rushed forward once more as the breeze chopped round, mercifully
blowing the suffocating fumes the other way. But the spray that flew
over her bows was boiling hot. The men forward were forced to
retreat aft.
For one terrible instant it looked as if the little craft must be
driven into the midst of the inferno of smoke and steam and stench
before she could be put on another tack, but in the next moment a
cheer broke from all hands as she shot forward, and left the strange
disturbance behind her.
“Phew! I couldn’t have stood much more of that,” said Jack. “Are
such things common in the northern seas, Uncle Toby?”
“No, lad, they’re not. But once in a while a whaling master will
report encountering one. They’re some of the queer things that them
as goes down to the sea in ships, as the good book says, gets a
chance to see. There, look!”
He pointed behind them. The boys followed the direction of his gaze.
They saw the boiling mass of mud subside as suddenly as it had come,
making great swells that came chasing after the _Morning Star_,
making her plunge and dance on their crests.
The next morning the boys were up betimes. The crew were all on the
alert too, for a bonus of ten dollars had been offered to the first
man who should sight Cedar Island. Suddenly, from forward, from a
man perched high in the crosstrees, came a shout.
“Land ho!”
“Where away?” bawled Uncle Toby.
“To the northwest, sir. It’s an island. There’s something sticking
up on it, sir.”
Captain Toby swarmed into the rigging, using his wooden leg as if it
were a good one. He held his glasses to his eyes for a spell, and
then turned with an excited look on his storm-beaten face.
“Cedar Island!” he shouted, and all along the decks the cry was
taken up.
The boys gave a loud cheer. The excitement of the treasure hunt,
although Jack believed it was a wild goose chase, had entered into
their blood. Just at this moment, while his eyes were riveted on the
tiny, almost invisible blob of land to the northwest, something made
Jack turn. He saw Mr. Terrill saying something in a quick, low tone
to Jarrow, the mate. The boy’s quick ears caught a part of what was
said, and it confirmed his worst suspicions.
“Don’t forget our plan, Jarrow. How does the crew stand?”
“Oh, I’ve fixed them O.K.,” was the rejoinder, and then the voices
sunk so low that the lad could hear no more.