A LUCKY FIND
"Land ahead!" sang out Captain Broadbeam's terrific voice in foghorn
bass.
"We'll never reach it," declared Bob Vilett.
"Begorra, this is the worst yet," observed Pat Stoodles.
"Steady; be ready to jump if the raft tips," said Dave Fearless.
Fog, blackness, rain, and tempest surrounded the crew of the _Swallow_.
A critical moment, indeed, had arrived in their experiences.
The capture of the _Swallow_ early that morning had been effected by
their enemies within an hour. The attack had been a vast surprise. No
one had anticipated it, no one was prepared to meet it.
Superior numbers, desperate men heavily armed, had simply overpowered
those on board of the steamer two at a time.
The bound captives were put ashore. With sad hearts they saw the
_Swallow_ sail out of the secret cove in the hands of their enemies.
Dave's hardest trial was to listen to the triumphant taunts of Bart
Hankers. The elder Hankers gloated over Amos Fearless.
Captain Nesik goaded Captain Broadbeam to the verge of madness with his
mean sneers.
Then they steamed away, the captives got loose from their bonds, and
there they were, faced with the very worst fortune, it seemed, where a
few hours previous good luck only had smiled on them.
"I've an idea," said Pat Stoodles at once.
"Well, what is it?" asked Broadbeam.
"Put afther the rascals."
"Of course we will do that," said the captain, "and mighty smart, too.
Don't give up, lads," he cried encouragingly to those around him.
"We've the will, we'll find a way. Something tells me those thieving
buccaneers haven't the intelligence or grit to hold a good point when
they make it."
"Captain," said Stoodles, with a sudden air of importance, "if you will
all come to the native village with me, I'll bargain to have you
conveyed where you like in all the royal canoes of the tribe."
"It would take too much time--it might complicate matters. The sight of
so many of us might change the ideas of the natives as to a friendly
welcome," said Broadbeam.
"Why not make a raft, then?" suggested Doctor Barrell.
"Where to go?" asked Bob Vilett, who was quite dejected over the bad
turn in affairs.
"In search of the threasure, shure," said Pat.
"We don't know where it is," said Bob. "We might search for forty years
and not find a trace of the treasure."
"Not at all," put in Dave sharply. "Find an island full of caves, and
we have the location. I am sure of that from what the outcast native
imparted to me."
"And I," announced Pat Stoodles suddenly. "Begorra, I'm the lad who can
put my finger right on the one particular cave where the threasure is
stored."
All hands looked at Stoodles in a sort of dubious amazement.
"Is that true, Mr. Stoodles?" asked Doctor Barrell.
"Shure it is."
"How can you know that?" inquired Dave.
"The outcast tould me."
"Told you. Why, he was dead when you saw him," said Dave.
"The outcast tould me," reiterated Pat solemnly. "Not another wurred
now. I am spaking from facts. Get afloat, make for the lasht of the
three western islands. Land me. I'll take you to the threasure
blindfold."
They set to work at once to make a raft. This was not difficult, for
plenty of excellent material was at hand. It was late afternoon when
they got afloat. At ten o'clock that evening, caught in a terrible
storm, the appearance of breakers denoted the nearness of land.
"Jump for your lives!" suddenly rang out the voice of Captain Broadbeam.
The raft had struck an immense rock and was splintered to pieces by the
contact. Now it was a wild swim for shore in the boiling surf.
Captain Broadbeam anxiously and eagerly counted his men a few minutes
later as they ranged on the beach.
"None lost," he announced gladly. "Where are we, Stoodles?"
"I can't exactly tell, your honor, but I should say on the second
western island. I'll take a short trip and report, sir."
Stoodles strolled away in one direction; Dave, ever active, went in
another.
In half an hour Stoodles was back to the little group of refugees with
the statement that they were on the second west island, as he had
guessed before.
"Dave seems to be gone a long time," observed Amos Fearless, after an
hour had passed by, during which they all busied themselves in securing
such pieces of the wrecked raft as came ashore.
Suddenly Dave appeared. He was out of breath, he had been running fast.
Something of suppressed excitement in his manner showed itself plainly.
"What are you saving all that wreckage for?" he asked Bob Vilett.
"Why, to make a new raft, of course."
"Don't waste your time," advised Dave, with a quick, glad laugh.
"Captain, father, men, follow me! I've found the _Swallow_."
"What!" shouted Captain Broadbeam, transfixed.
"She is anchored not a mile to the north. Six men left in charge of her
are all stupid with drink on her deck. I crept aboard, bound them all,
and the _Swallow_ is ours once more."