Jack was astir betimes. The fire had died down and the chill
awakened him. Carson lay asleep at last, curled up in the lee of his
boat. Jack walked down to inspect the craft. It was a good-looking
whale boat.
“If only we had enough provisions,” he mused, “we might get away in
her.”
Apparently the boat had been used for whaling as well as sealing,
for, neatly coiled in a tub, in the bow, was a coil of the finest
and strongest manilla rope, the quality used for whaling, which is
strong enough to stand almost any strain.
Jack looked idly at the rope for some time, his thoughts far away.
But suddenly, for no reason that he could fathom, a sudden
inspiration struck him.
“Hookey!” he exclaimed, “I know how I can get to the top of that
plateau and fool Terrill and all that gang. If the food problem were
settled I’d do it as soon as possible.”
He looked seaward. To his surprise, within the few minutes that he
had been staring at the whale boat, a new object had floated into
view. It was a small boat bobbing up and down on the tiny waves, for
the sea was very calm.
“Well, that’s queer,” thought Jack, “looks like one of the _Morning
Star’s_ boats, too. And she’s loaded with something. I guess I’ll
row out and take a look at her.”
He roused Raynor and soon the two boys, in the boat they had landed
in the day before, were rowing off to the strange craft. In a short
time they were alongside. Nailed to the bow was a scrap of paper. On
it was writing. But it was a hard hand to decipher. Finally,
however, Jack made it out.
“It’s from Pompey, that good old black soul,” he cried. “He says he
can’t bear to think of us starving, so he stole some food while the
crew was carousing, and two kegs of water, and put them in this
boat, which lay alongside. He says that he overheard the mate saying
that there was a strong current all around the island so that he
hopes the boat will drift round our way.”
“Good for him,” cried Raynor. “He’s got a real white heart, if his
skin is black. See here, Jack, hams, potatoes, onions, all kinds of
canned stuff. Why, he must have made a terrible raid on the
provisions.”
“I hope he doesn’t get into trouble,” said Jack soberly, as he made
fast a rope to the other boat and the boys towed it ashore. A hearty
breakfast was enjoyed by all. The more so because it was unexpected.
After the meal was over, Jack had an announcement to make.
“Folks,” he said, “one of our problems is solved. But we have still
another on our hands. We cannot leave the island until we regain
possession of the schooner. Has anyone any suggestions to offer?”
None had just then except Uncle Toby, whose lips moved and head
wagged, but only inarticulate sounds came forth.
“Then I declare this meeting adjourned,” said Jack. “Come on,” he
added to Raynor, “we’ve got a lot of work on.”
Jack chipped several specimens of what he believed to be pyron from
the rocks. Pyron does not make as good a detector as silicon, still
he believed it would serve to repair the apparatus. After some
tinkering he said that he thought he had made the device efficient
once more.
Luckily, the boat from the _Morning Star_ had a saw, hammer and
nails on board as part of the emergency kit. Jack got these out and
then he and Raynor went into executive session with canvas, stripped
from the locker covering, and long strips of wood pried from the
gunwale of the boat. All morning they kept up a great sawing and
hammering, and by noon had produced an odd-looking contrivance. It
was a paralleloeram of thin strips of wood with a square box of
canvas at each end.
After a hasty bite, Jack announced that he and Raynor were going off
for a tramp. First, however, Jack borrowed Noddy’s fishing line,
which was about two hundred feet long. Leaving the camp much
mystified as to their errand, they set off up the gulch, carrying
with them the odd-looking object they had devoted the morning to
constructing. To make no further mystery of it, the object was a box
kite. It is true it was a clumsy one, but a brisk breeze was blowing
and Jack believed it would fly.
“And so you really think you are going to get to the top of Cedar
Mountain?” asked Raynor dubiously, as they trudged along.
“I know I am,” laughed Jack.
“You are pretty confident. Of course, I don’t know half of your plan
yet, though.”
“Well, here’s the machinery,” said Jack, indicating the box kite.
“It will never carry you up, even if the risk wasn’t too great to
attempt it,” said Raynor, who believed that Jack meant to hang on to
the kite and be borne to the top of Cedar Mountain that way.
Jack chuckled.
“There are more ways of killing a cat than choking it to death with
cream,” replied he.
At last they reached the foot of Cedar Mountain. Its walls rose
steeply, almost menacingly, as if daring anyone to penetrate its
secrets. Jack walked along till he found a point where the walls
were lower than at other portions of the cliff face.
“Now then,” said Jack, “let’s find out how the wind blows.”
He moistened his hand and held it up.
“Good! It’s out of just the right direction.”
He proceeded to tie the string--the erstwhile fishing line--to the
kite. Raynor watched him, and suddenly broke in.
“Say, you’re putting a double string on. Scared one won’t hold it?”
“That double string is the secret of the whole thing,” smiled Jack.
“Now just try some watchful waiting and you’ll see--what you will
see.”
When the string was attached, Jack told Raynor to hold it up at a
distance.
“Go,” cried Jack; and ran back a bit. The clumsily made flyer began
to mount in the air even better than he had hoped it would. The kite
rose above the summit of the rocky wall, above the naked old cedar
growing close to its edge. Jack began to maneuver the kite
carefully. You are to remember that the double string hung down from
it like an inverted V. At last, after much patient work, he managed
to get the point of the V over the bare trunk of the cedar in such a
way that an equal amount of string hung down on both sides.
Then, very carefully, Jack started to haul the kite down while
Raynor held one of the ends taut so that it would not slip back.
Jack soon had the kite on the ground, and there was a loop round the
tree on the summit of the Cedar Mountain, and two ends on the
ground.
“I see it now,” cried Raynor enthusiastically, “but you can’t haul
yourself up on this string.”
“I don’t mean to. I know where there is plenty of stout rope. Now
we’ll go back to the cove and get the bunch, and before long we’ll
know if the stone chest is a myth or a reality. I didn’t want to let
them come along till I was sure my little device would work.”
“Jack, you are a wonder!” exclaimed Raynor.
Half an hour later an expectant group stood at the foot of the cliff
under the bare old cedar on the summit. Even Uncle Toby was there,
gazing with his lack-luster eyes at the proceedings. Jack tied one
end of the strong, pliant whale rope to one of the pendant ends of
string. Then he began pulling on the unattached end. Steadily the
rope mounted as he reeled in the string hand over hand. Before very
long a loop of stout harpoon rope, instead of string, was round the
cedar trunk.
“I knew Jack would do it!” exclaimed Raynor.
“He’s de clear quill all right, all right!” ejaculated the Bowery
boy with no less delight.
“Now then, boys,” said Jack, making a big loop in one end of the
rope and seating himself in it, “I’m going to get you to haul me up
there.”
“Great alligators, spos’in de tree pulls out,” gasped Noddy, his
face white under its freckles.
“I’m going to take a chance on that,” said Jack. “Lay hold
everybody. Now then--pull--easy now!”
Brawny arms laid hold of the rope and began to walk away with it.
Jack began to mount slowly into the air, using his knees to keep
from being dashed against the cliff face as the rope oscillated.
It was a fearful trip. But the boy’s eyes shone with triumph as he
slowly ascended.
He had only one fear. Would the tree trunk hold fast? If it did
not--Jack did not dare to look downward as this thought came into
his mind.