The lads stood on the stern deck of the _Sea Gypsy_, gazing behind them.
On the horizon hovered a tall, black column of smoke. It marked the last
resting place of the _Centurion_, for Mr. Jukes, after ransacking the
cabin of everything associated with his brother, had decided to burn the
derelict, which, if she had drifted into the paths of navigation, might
have proved a dangerous menace.
“Well, Billy, the mystery is solved at last,” said Jack.
“Yes, and in a way I’d never have guessed in a thousand years. Mr. Jukes
must be very fond of his brother. It’s a new side of his character to
me.”
“Same here,” agreed Jack. “While he has always been just and kind, I
thought him a regular man of business, with ice-water instead of red
blood in his veins, and his heart in his enterprises only.”
“Just goes to show that you are liable to run up against a streak of
sentiment when you least expect it,” said Raynor.
“I see now why an embargo was put on the wireless,” said Jack presently.
“I can’t figure it out. I should have thought he would have used it to
try and locate the _Centurion_.”
“I guess he figured that if he did so, some ship might pick up the
message and it would reach the ears of that Amsterdam firm and they
would find out about this expedition in search of Jerushah Jukes.”
“Perhaps that’s it. But there’s one thing sure and certain, Jack.”
“And that is——?”
“That we can’t do much without coal.”
“Jove, that’s true; I’d forgotten that. What rotten luck! Where is the
nearest coaling place?”
“Papeiti, in Tahiti, I reckon.”
“How close are we to that port now?”
“Well, to-day’s reckoning puts us in Latitude 29 degrees, 49 minutes.”
“I’ll have to look at the map, but that makes it quite a run.” The
second mate came bustling up to Raynor.
“The skipper and Mr. Jukes want to see you in the captain’s cabin,” he
said.
“Do you know what about?” asked Raynor.
“Coal, I think. How much have you got to keep those old tea-kettles of
yours chugging?”
“Precious little since your gang on deck let that deck-load be washed
overboard,” grinned Raynor, as he hurried off.
The consultation lasted a long time. But at length Raynor returned with
the news that, for as long as possible, full speed was to be made with
the coal in hand, and that then canvas would be spread, for the _Sea
Gypsy_ was schooner rigged and in addition carried a big square sail on
her foremast.
For two days good time was made, but when Raynor, with a rueful face,
announced that only a few shovelfuls more coal remained in the bunkers,
they were still many weary sea-miles from their destination. However,
sailors are proverbially inclined to make the best of things. The _Sea
Gypsy’s_ canvas was bent, and under a spanking breeze they glided, at a
fair speed, over the sparkling waters, while in the engine room the
fires were drawn and the engines grew cold.
But a steam vessel, while she will behave fairly well under canvas, is
not designed for sail and makes an astonishing amount of what sailors
call “lee-way,” that is, the wind, if it blows a’beam, constantly drives
her side-ways, or crab-fashion, of a direct course, so that for every
mile she makes in a forward direction a considerable amount of lee-way
has to be deducted. For this reason all hands looked forward to a long
and tedious voyage before the highlands of Tahiti were sighted.
Now that there was no doubt as to the fate of the _Centurion_, and no
danger of her being captured, the _Sea Gypsy’s_ wireless was set to work
again. But they were traveling a lonely tract of the Pacific, and no
answer came to Jack’s messages, nor did he “listen in” on any outside
conversations.
Captain Sparhawk was in hopes of encountering an English, French or
German cruiser, for all those nations keep war craft in these Pacific
waters to watch out for pearl pirates and other law-breakers, but the
wireless failed to pick any up, although Jack worked it assiduously.
For two days the favoring breeze that was helping the crippled _Sea
Gypsy_ along held. Then there fell a flat calm, and the glass began to
drop ominously. Captain Sparhawk went about with a grave face. Jack
gathered from a few remarks the reserved seaman had let fall, that he
expected another hurricane. Situated as she was, the _Sea Gypsy’s_
predicament would be a serious one if such a tornado as the one she had
safely weathered were to strike her now. The sailors stood about in
little knots discussing the situation and casting anxious glances at the
horizon. Mr. Jukes and the captain and officers spent long hours on the
bridge in careful consultation.
Before the sun set, the question as to whether or no the _Sea Gypsy_ was
in for a second fight with the elements was definitely settled. Thunder
and lightning deafened and blinded the voyagers. Rain descended as only
tropical rain can, flooding the decks and blinding the look-outs and the
officers on the bridge. The _Sea Gypsy’s_ canvas was reduced, only
enough being kept on to keep her from literally rolling her hull under
the towering water mountains.
The crew clawed their way about the decks by holding fast to life-lines
which Captain Sparhawk had ordered stretched when the storm broke.
Raynor, coming on deck to report that all was well below, met Jack on
his way back to the lower regions of the ship.
“Well, old fellow, this is a corker and no mistake,” he observed,
raising his voice in order to make it audible above the frantic battle
noises of the storm.
“It’s the worst yet,” Jack agreed.
“And it will be worse than ever before it gets better, according to the
way Captain Sparhawk put it when I reported to him,” said the young
engineer.
“Hullo, what’s that?” exclaimed Jack suddenly.
“We hit something,” shouted Raynor. “Look at the watch running forward.”
“Storm or no storm, I’m going forward to see what’s up,” ejaculated
Jack, and, followed by Raynor, he hurried toward the bow where several
of the oil-skin coated crew were already clustered.