THE MYSTERY.
LEAVING Chris still peacefully snoring, the three stole softly outside
the cabin. Once outside they paused and listened again for a repetition
of the strange signal.
They had not long to wait for in a few minutes, it came again, a long
melodious mellow note, three times sounded.
"It comes from the Gulf," Captain Westfield declared. "Let's go down to
the point. We can see both bay and gulf from there."
The island terminated in a long sand point that ran out into a passage
that connected the bay with the Gulf of Mexico. To it, the three
hastened their steps. Just as they stepped out on the sand spit, the
mysterious signal sounded again.
"There it is," Charley cried, pointing out to sea. "It's a ship."
Out in the Gulf, about three hundred yards from where they stood, a dim
shadowy mass loomed up vaguely in the darkness.
"It's a ship all right," Captain Westfield agreed, "but thar's
something queer about her. No ship ever comes in close to these shores.
With all the reefs thar are around hyar it's too dangerous unless one
knows the channels mighty well. Then, that ain't no distress signal
she's sounding,--four long blasts is the distress signal the world
over. Then too she ain't got lights--that ain't proper and shipshape."
Even as he spoke, a bright flash blazed up from the strange vessel's
deck. It only lasted a few seconds, but in that brief space it lit up
the mysterious stranger, showing a huddled mass of men in her waist and
throwing into sharp distinctness every rope and spar.
"A flare," cried Walter, "they are certainly signaling some one."
"There is something familiar about those spars," Charley exclaimed.
"Did you notice them, Captain?"
"No. I was looking at the hull. She sits low as a pirate craft. She's
schooner rigged and about one hundred tons burden. Hallo! Here comes
some one who has heard her signals. We can find out about her all
right."
From the bay came the quick chug chug of a motor turning up at full
speed. As she swept into the passage, the little party could tell even
in the dim light that she was a large launch and traveling at a rapid
rate.
"Ahoy!" hailed Charley, as the strange launch came abreast.
The launch's engine was stopped at his call, but no answer came to his
hail.
"Ahoy!" he shouted again. "Can you tell us what ship that is and what
she wants?"
A string of low-muttered curses came from the launch, and almost at
the same minute a single fiery rocket hissed aloft from her deck.
Immediately her engine began to throb again.
"Why, she's turned around and going back!" exclaimed Captain Westfield
in amazement.
"Look at the schooner!" cried Walter.
From the mysterious ship came muffled orders and the creak of blocks as
sails were hoisted and sheeted home.
Slowly the put-put of the launch's engine died away in the distance
from which it had come, and the mysterious schooner, under full sail,
glided silently away in the darkness.
"I'll be joggered!" exclaimed Captain Westfield. "That's queer. I
wonder what they were up to."
"Something that will not bear the light of day, I guess," said Charley,
thoughtfully. "I believe it was our hail that frightened the fellows in
the launch and their rocket was a signal to the schooner to clear out.
Well, I guess the excitement is over for the night and we might as well
go back to bed."
Walter and the captain lay awake for some time discussing the
strange incident but Charley lay long awake on his couch, silent and
thoughtful. He was puzzling to determine where he had seen the strange
schooner before. In the second, the flare had revealed her in the
darkness, he had sensed something vaguely familiar in the low graceful
hull and the set of the raking masts.
"Where have I ever seen a foremast that raked aft like that one," he
pondered. Suddenly it flashed vivid and distinct in his groping memory.
"No, no," he muttered to himself. "It simply can't be her. It must only
be a chance resemblance. That flare only lasted a second. Guess I am
getting to imagine things. I'd better forget it and try to go to sleep."
Never-the-less it was long before he rid his alert brain of the
tormenting thought and compelled sleep to come.
When he awoke, it was to find his chums up before him. Chris had
breakfast cooking and Captain Westfield had just returned from taking
a morning plunge in the surf. Walter was not in sight, but he soon
appeared bearing a sack full of turtle eggs which he had found on the
beach.
"I've been exploring our island," he announced. "Say, some of the
fishermen must come over here to hold their celebrations. There are
several well-worn paths on the island. I followed two of them and
they both led into the same place, a little clearing in a thick bunch
of palms. It looks as though there had been several fights there for
the ground is all trampled up as though it had been dug, and I found a
couple of long, queer-looking clubs and this full bottle. What's in it,
Charley? I can't make out the label."
Charley took the big black bottle and examined the label that had
puzzled his chum. "It's in Spanish," he announced, then translated
rapidly: "Aguardiente, 100 Proof, Manufactured by Sicava & Sons,
Santiago, Cuba." He pulled the cork and a pungent reeking odor filled
the air.
"Why, it's rum," said Captain Westfield.
"A kind of rum," Charley agreed, "only far stronger and more fiery. No
wonder the fishermen fight if this is the kind of stuff they drink. It
would make a rabbit spit at an elephant."
"Throw it away," Walter said. "We don't want the vile stuff."
"No, I think I will keep it," said his chum, thoughtfully. "I have a
notion that this little bottle is going to be mighty useful some time."
"How's that?" Walter questioned, but the spell of silent thoughtfulness
was still upon Charley and he paid no heed to the question.
"I wish you fellows would go down and pull the nets into the skiffs,"
he said, as soon as breakfast was over. "I will be down as soon as I
take a dip in the surf."
"Why, what do you want the nets on so early for?" Walter protested. "We
don't fish except at night, do we?"
"We need to have a little drill," Charley explained. "It will be easier
for you to learn how to handle the nets in the day time, and we will
not have to waste any of our precious night time practicing."
As soon as the three were gone, Charley left the camp himself. He did
not pause at the beach to take a swim, however. Instead he turned into
one of the well-beaten paths Walter had spoken of. He was following
up a vague suspicion that had been growing in his mind and, for good
reasons, he wanted to follow it out alone. If he was right in his
surmises then would be the time to tell his chums. There was no use of
worrying them until he was certain.
His keen eyes noted one peculiar thing that his chum had not observed
the significance of. All the paths led inward from the gulf beach and
none from the bay.
A few minutes' walk brought him to the cleared place Walter had
described. It was only a few feet in extent and was densely surrounded
by a thick growth of cocoanut palms. No one a few feet distant would
have suspected its existence so well was it hidden from sight.
At the entrance to the little space, Charley picked up two heavy
pieces of timber about six feet in length. "These are Walter's clubs,"
he grinned. "Well, I suppose one could take them for that but clubs
don't generally have a nice smooth rounded hand grip at each end and
clubs the length of these things would be awkward to handle at close
quarters. I have an idea these were used to carry heavy burdens. They
would come pretty handy for that. Just lay the thing to be carried
across them and one man take hold of the ends in front and another man
at the back. Strange, Walter did not notice an odd thing about this
clearing too. There is not a root or twig on the ground. Men would
hardly fix up a place as clean just to fight in. He is right about one
thing, though, this ground does look as though it had been all dug up,
and unless all my guess is wrong, it has been dug up. Let's see how
near I've hit to the mark with my suspicions."
He got down on his knees and began to dig in the soft earth. In a few
minutes he came upon that which he sought. It was not unexpected for
all his theories had pointed the one way. As he dug over here and
there, however, he grew amazed at the magnitude of his discovery. At
last he ceased his digging and carefully filled up the many holes he
had made trying to smooth over the face of the ground the same as it
was before. This accomplished to his satisfaction, he stood up with a
thoughtful frown on his face.
Should he tell his companions of his discovery, he pondered. It was of
no use to any of them at present. Would it be wise to tell them yet?
Some one might let slip a word in an unguarded moment that would spoil
everything. "The more that knows a secret the greater the chance of its
leaking out," he reflected. "No," he would not tell them at present.
Having reached this decision, he made his way back to the beach.
Stripping, he took a hurried plunge in the surf and hastily dressing
hurried across the island to the skiffs.
"We have got the nets all aboard," Walter greeted him with.
One glance at the heaped up nets in the skiffs' stern and Charley's
face fell.
"Whew!" he whistled, "you have sure done it now. Well, it's all my
fault. I should have explained to you how to boat a net. They don't
want to be piled up in a heap like that. You can't run out a net in
that shape. It would all tangle up and go out in lumps and bunches.
When you boat a net, you want to pile the lead line up carefully on
one side of the stern and the cork line on the other letting the loose
webbing fall in between, then it will run out smoothly without tangles
and snarls."
The nets had to be all tumbled out of the skiffs and hauled in again as
Charley had directed.
His chums were quite crestfallen over their mistake, but he only
laughed. "Everything is new to you and you are bound to make a lot
of mistakes at first," he assured them, "but you will soon catch on.
Don't get discouraged over a little mistake like that, you'll make many
bigger ones before you get used to the business. Hallo, I guess we are
going to have some visitors. That launch out there is heading in here."