OVERBOARD
"What does he say, Captain Broadbeam?" asked Dave Fearless.
"Mum as an oyster, lad."
"Won't talk, eh?" remarked Dave's father. "Nothing come of giving him
free board, and after all the trouble you had, Dave, in getting him onto
the _Swallow_."
"You forget, father," reminded Dave, "it is one enemy the less to worry
about."
"The lad's right," declared Captain Broadbeam. "It means a good deal to
clip the wings of the main mover in this scheme against us. If Gerstein,
or Sehmitt-Schmitt as he calls himself, won't do us any good, at least
he can do us no harm as long as we hold him a prisoner. I reckon those
fellows back at Minotaur Island are a little dazed at the slick way we
disappeared,--ship, their crony, and all."
Bob Vilett, seated in the cabin with the others, laughed heartily.
"It was a big move and a good one, that of yours in capturing this
rascal," he declared to Dave. "Now we certainly have the field to
ourselves. The governor and the pilot can't follow us, for they don't
know where we have gone. No one is on this treasure search except
ourselves. It's a clear field, as I say."
"Until we reach the Windjammers' Island," suggested Dave. "I wouldn't
wonder if Gerstein had left Captain Nesik and the others there, probably
guarding the treasure while awaiting his return."
The _Swallow_ had got away from the vicinity of Minotaur Island two days
previous. Just as soon as, after his exciting capture of Gerstein, Dave
had sufficiently recovered to explain matters to Captain Broadbeam, the
latter had ordered on full steam, leaving the ironclad stuck on the
sandbar.
Gerstein raved like a madman when the drug Dave had given him began to
lose its effect. He threatened all kinds of things--the law, for one,
for kidnapping--but Captain Broadbeam only laughed at him.
"Just one word, my hearty," he observed spicily. "As long as you behave
yourself, outside of every man aboard having his eye on you to look out
for tricks, you'll have bed and food with the best of us. Try any
didos, though, and I clap you into irons--understand?"
Gerstein became at once sullen and silent. When he came on deck after
that he spoke to nobody. Most of the time he remained shut up by
himself in the little cabin apportioned to him.
The second day out Captain Broadbeam sought an interview with him. It
was after a talk with Amos Fearless.
He offered Gerstein a liberal share of the treasure if he would divulge
its whereabouts and tell what had become of the _Raven_ and her crew.
Gerstein declined to say a word. He simply regarded the captain in a
mocking, insolent way. It was evident that the fellow appreciated the
full value of his knowledge concerning the treasure.
"He's counting on getting away from us somehow, before the cruise is
over," reported Captain Broadbeam to his friends, "or he is taking
chances on our running into a nest of his friends when we reach the
Windjammers' Island."
The _Swallow_ had a delightful run to Mercury Island. Before they
reached it Gerstein was placed in the hold, and there closely guarded by
two mariners until they had provisioned up and were once more on their
way.
Dave had little to do except to wait the end of their cruise, yet he put
in some busy hours. For three days he kept Stoodles at his side at the
table in the captain's cabin, questioning him on every detail about the
lay and outlines of the island they were sailing to. Then he made a
chart of the island, and as near as possible from memory marked in the
other island where they had recovered possession of the _Swallow_ after
it had been stranded during a cyclone.
The weather changed suddenly a day or two out from Mercury Island. They
rode into a fierce northeaster, and it rained nearly all the time, with
leaden skies and a choppy sea.
Dave was a good deal below. One afternoon, returning from a brief visit
to Bob Vilett, as he was making for the cabin passageway, a chink of
light attracted his attention.
It emanated from a crack in the paneling of the cabin occupied by
Gerstein. Dave drew nearer to the chink, and could look quite clearly
into the compartment that housed the person in whom he was naturally
very much interested at all times.
"H'm!" said Dave, with a bright flicker in his eye. "He's making a
chart, too, is he?"
The daylight was so dim that Gerstein had a lighted candle on the table
at which he sat. Spread out before him was a sheet of heavy manila
paper. It bore black outlines as if an irregular body of land, and had
crosses and dots all over it.
At this Gerstein was working, thoughtfully scanning it at times and then
making additions to it. Dave believed that it had something to do with
the treasure.
"Our treasure," he reflected, "and I'll play something else than the spy
if I get a chance to look over that chart, whatever it is."
He watched the man's movements for over half an hour. Then Gerstein
folded up the paper, placing it in a thin tin tobacco box. This he
secured in a pocket in the blue shirt he wore, buttoning the pocket flap
securely.
Dave got no further sight of the mysterious paper, if such it was,
during the next week. He felt himself justified in trying to get a
chance to secure the little tin box. Twice he visited Gerstein's cabin
secretly, while its occupant was on deck. Gerstein, however, apparently
carried the box with him wherever he went.
One night, when he slept, Dave crept into the cabin, the door of which
for a wonder had been left unlocked. He ransacked Gerstein's clothing,
but with no result.
"Got it somewhere in bed with him," thought Dave. "I don't dare to try
and find it, though. I would surely wake him up. I believe I will tell
Captain Broadbeam about the little tin box. If it in any way concerns
this treasure, why haven't we the right to take it away from Gerstein,
even by force?"
Before Dave had an opportunity to consult with Captain Broadbeam,
however, something transpired that changed all his plans.
It was a dark and stormy night. The weather had been rough all day.
Dave came on deck about eight o'clock to find the captain on duty. A
few men were making things tidy about the stern deck.
The _Swallow_ was plowing the water, slanted like a swordfish in action.
Dave held to a handle at the side of the cabin, peering into the
darkness that hung about them like a pall.
According to the calculations of the captain they were somewhere in the
vicinity of the Windjammers' Island--probably within fifty miles of it,
he had told Amos Fearless at sunset.
As Dave stood there, braced and exhilarated by the dash of wind and
spray, he saw Gerstein suddenly rush up the cabin stairs.
"Hello, what's up with him, I wonder," thought Dave.
The remark was caused by a view of the face of the fellow as he passed a
lantern set near the forecastle. Gerstein seemed frightfully agitated.
Heedless of the slippery deck, he plunged along towards the stern. Once
or twice a lurch threatened to bring him clear over the rail and into
the sea.
Dave could not resist following him to learn the cause of his
perturbation. A swing of the boat sent him clinging to the rail.
Holding firmly, Dave, within twelve feet of the stern, saw Gerstein dash
in among the men busy there and heard him shout out:
"Barlow--quick. Is he here?"
"Here I am," answered the owner of that name, looking around from his
task of lashing down the cover of a water butt.
"My shirt--your shirt--the one you loaned me while I had mine washed,"
spoke Gerstein, in an anxious, gasping tone. "I gave it back to you
this afternoon."
"Yes, you did," nodded Barlow.
"Where is it? Have you it on--say, quick!"
"Threw it under my bunk. In the forecastle. Bunk nearest the gangway.
Hey, you've no sea legs, that's sure."
A lurch of the steamer had sent Gerstein off his footing. He went
headlong. His head struck the side, and for a second he lay stunned.
Before he had fairly got to his feet, Dave Fearless had acted under the
impulse of a very vivid suggestion.
From what he had seen and heard he felt certain that Gerstein wanted the
shirt he had borrowed because he had left something in his pocket.
"That tin box, I'll bet--why not?" cried Dave, making a dash in the
direction of the forecastle.
Dave was so full of his idea that he did not take the trouble to look
back to see if Gerstein was coming, too. He got to the forecastle, was
down the gangway fast as he could go, and a second later was groping
under Barlow's bunk.
"Here it is," he said, pulling out the garment in question. "Something
in the pocket, too, yes, it's the box--the little tin box, I can tell by
the feeling. Good!"
Dave hurried back up the steps. He just cleared them as Gerstein
plunged rather than ran towards them. A steady light shone here.
"Say," bolted out Gerstein, at once recognizing the garment in Dave's
hand, "that's my shirt."
"No, it isn't," declared Dave, swinging back as Gerstein made a grab at
the garment. "It belongs to Barlow."
"I have something in it."
"I know you have."
"Ha, you spy! Let go, let go."
The result of a general mixing up of Dave and Gerstein was that each now
had hold of the coveted garment.
As Gerstein spoke last he sagged and swung Dave around to one side.
Dave held on tightly. Suddenly Gerstein made a feint. He slackened the
tension by a bend forward, one hand swung out.
Dave received a heavy blow at the side of the head. It was totally
unexpected, and he loosed his grip and went reeling backward.
At that moment a terrific wave swept over the deck. Dave was submerged
and carried along.
He tried in vain to catch at something. The tilt of the steamer sent
him shooting outward, and the next moment he plunged over the rail into
the sea below.