THE FLARE OF A ROCKET.
Ben looked at Ned in astonishment.
"You never got the Manhattan away, did you?" he asked.
"The boys got it away," replied Ned.
The sailor remained silent for a moment, his face turned away from the man he was supposed to be watching. When he spoke it was in a very low tone, with little movement of the lips, and with his face still turned toward the lieutenant.
"You should have gone with it," he said.
Ned did not reply. He had, at the last moment, made a rush for the boat, but had been kept away from her by the natives.
"Carstens has been after you for a long time," the sailor went on. "He got his orders at Manila."
"What was he doing on the island with the rebels?" asked Ned.
"I'm sure I don't know," was the whispered reply. "There's something mighty funny going on here. More mischief, I'm afraid. No one knows what is in the boxes that are now being unloaded."
"What does he say they are?" asked Ned.
"Supplies, to keep the chiefs good-natured."
"He brought them from Manila?"
"No, he picked them up over on the China coast."
"I thought so," Ned answered.
"Now, what is the answer to that remark," asked Ben.
"You'll get the answer directly," Ned replied. "Listen to the rattle of the alleged supplies when a box is thrown down hard!"
"I was noticing that."
"Sounds like guns?" asked Ned.
"Yes, indeed, but why should the government be supplying the dagoes with guns? We have all we can do to keep them decent when they have no arms at all."
"You sailed from Manila with Carstens?" said Ned, putting his statement in the form of a question.
"Yes, I left Manila on the Clara. He seemed to be all right until after we picked up the boxes on the China coast. He was a good fellow, when we left Manila, but he was confined to his cabin for a day and a night and has been ugly as sin ever since. He came out of the sickness looking a bit seedy but that ought not to cause him to turn into a red-handed brute, had it?"
"He has been acting badly, has he?" asked Ned.
"As if the very Old Nick was in him," was the reply. "You heard what he said about a drum-head court martial for you?" the sailor added.
"Of course."
"Well, he means it. He's got something against you that doesn't show on the outside. He'll try you in five minutes and shoot you within the next ten."
"That would be murder."
"Well, he has the authority, under the general instructions regarding the treatment of pirates," said the sailor.
"But you know that I'm not a pirate, and so does Carstens," Ned said. "You know that I came here in the Manhattan without the consent of the officers at Manila, but you know that I was only defending myself when those natives were shot."
"I don't know anything about it," was the discouraging reply. "I've heard you spoken of as a pirate for the past few days, and the members of the crew all believe you to be one. If he orders them to shoot you, they'll do it."
"Yes, I presume so," Ned said, soberly.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked the sailor, after a short pause.
"The question," Ned replied, "is what are you going to do about it?"
"I couldn't do a thing if I tried," was the reply. "When Carstens hears that the Manhattan got away he will be red-headed, and will order the trial to proceed at once. I'll see what I can do with some of the men I know well, but the chances are that I'll only get myself into trouble without doing you any good."
"All you can do," Ned said, "is to delay the trial, and the execution, if it comes to that."
The officer who had made the arrest, after failing to seize the boat, now approached the Lieutenant and said something to him in a low tone.
"What?" the latter almost screamed. "You let the boat get away?"
"They were too quick for us," was the reply.
"Too quick for you?" howled the Lieutenant. "Do you know what you've done? You've ruined all my plans—the plans of the government. Inefficiency is worse than open disobedience, and you may consider yourself under arrest!"
The officer saluted and turned away, a scowl on his face.
"There is a likely man to talk with first," Ned suggested to the sailor. "He will doubtless listen to you."
The Lieutenant now turned sharply toward the prisoners.
"What's going on there?" he demanded. "What are you talking to that pirate for?" he added, approaching Ben threateningly.
"Trying to see what I could get out of him, sir," Ben replied, saluting.
"Well?"
"Not a thing!"
"Then cut it out," said the officer, moving away.
By this time the boxes were all out of the Clara, and the other vessel was brought up to the Tusks. A great pile of boxes lay in the sandy beach, and these the Lieutenant counted over for the second time. Then he beckoned to a dignified looking native and went over the ranks of boxes with him.
"Is it correct?" asked Carstens.
The other nodded and passed a slip of paper to the officer.
"Yokohama exchange," Ned heard him say.
"It must be that the native is paying for the guns," Ned said, and Ben, looking half frightened, half angry, nodded his head.
The Lieutenant now turned to the unloading of the Martha, which was now at the north Tusk. The hatches were soon lifted and the unloading of the cargo began. It consisted principally of boxes and barrels.
"Ammunition," Ned whispered.
Again the sailor nodded.
"Nice old government officer he is!" Frank said, in a half whisper.
"He doesn't act like himself," Ben said, "not since he came out of the cabin after being ill for a day and a night. And the boxes coming out of the hold now do not look like the boxes that were put in it on the China coast. I don't know what to make of it all."
During all this talk Ned had been listening intently for the shriek of a rocket, casting his eyes up the mountain side in the hope of seeing the green light of a signal reflected there. But no reports of rockets in the sky had come to his ears, and there were no signal lights reflected on the mountain.
The moon was well up in the heavens when the unloading of the Martha was completed. Then the Lieutenant called the dignified native to his side again, and once more the toll of the boxes was taken and a slip passed over to the officer. This done, the men went back into the hold again and began unloading small boxes, evidently containing tinned provisions.
"There," whispered Ben, "those are the goods Lieutenant Carstens took on board at the Chinese port."
"Then where were the guns and the ammunition taken on?" asked Ned.
"That is what gets me," was the reply.
"Tinned goods were also put into the Clara?" Ned asked.
"Yes; and they are going to take them out."
"Thought they'd get the guns out first," said Ned. "Don't you see," he added, "that this man Carstens is a traitor! Can't you see that he is turning guns, undoubtedly stolen from the government, over to the rebel chiefs, and getting his pay for them?"
"It looks that way," was the slow reply, "but what am I to do about it?"
"Talk with some of the men," urged Ned. "If those arms are taken away from this island by the natives they will be used to murder soldiers and sailors."
"I know it," said the sailor, "but what can I do?"
"Go and talk to the officer he just ordered under arrest."
"And have him report the conversation in order to get back into the good graces of the Lieutenant!" said Ben. "I'm not quite so green as that."
"What sort of a reputation does this man Carstens bear in army circles?" asked Ned, presently, seeing that it was of no use to argue with the sailor, who was afraid of being brought into trouble if he tried to aid the boy.
"First-class," was the reply. "He is known as a brave and dependable officer."
"And any action he might take here would be endorsed at Manila?"
"Yes; I think so."
"Then," Ned said, grimly, "if the Manhattan doesn't get within speaking distance of the gunboat very soon there will be a couple of funerals on this island."
"I am afraid you are right," said Ben. "If I could do anything for you I would, but—"
"Stop that clatter there!" shouted Carstens, pointing the end of his pencil toward Ned. "Didn't I tell you to put a stick in his mouth if he opened it again?"
Ben saluted and said that he was trying to get a confession out of the prisoner, and the Lieutenant turned back to the work of tallying the tinned goods. It was quite evident that he did not intend to leave that important duty to any subordinate.
Ned knew that he was in the tightest hole his love for detective work had ever fitted him into. He knew that the Lieutenant suspected him, and would not hesitate to order him shot after a mock trial. He had little doubt that the officer had, after his return from Yokohama, managed to poison the minds of the officers at Manila against him. That was why, he thought, he had been ordered by Major John Ross to remain at Manila until instructions could be received from Washington.
He understood that Carstens might murder him there at will and so close his mouth forever. After the murder there would be no one to tell of the secret meetings on the islands where the rebel chiefs were assembled, no one to tell of the murder of Brown at the Yokohama tea house, no one to tell of the arms unloaded there and turned over to the Filipinos—unless the sailors should take it into their heads to investigate the long boxes and take their lives in their hands by reporting their discoveries.
Lieutenant Carstens certainly had everything to his taste there, and Ned was of the opinion that he would not be very long in exercising his authority to the limit. While the boy was thinking over the situation, trying to find some way out of the peril he was in, a sleepy-looking young man came out of the cabin of the Clara and stepped ashore. He was neatly dressed, with a handsome face and alert figure. Lieutenant Carstens bowed to him as he approached the place where he stood and pointed to the prisoners.
"Do you know who that is?" whispered Ned to the sailor.
"No," was the reply, "except that he is the son of a prominent politician in the United States."
Ned did not need to ask another question then. Jimmie had described the senator's son, and Ned knew that the young man who had held possession of the treaty box was there, in conference with the Lieutenant.
"I guess," the boy mused, "they've got the top hand. The Lieutenant has his military authority, and also has the senator's son here to swear to anything he asks him to!"
"You should have made a getaway in the Manhattan," Ben said, in a moment.
"Then I wouldn't have seen the unloading of the arms," Ned answered.
Ben arose and stood yawning by the side of his prisoner. The Lieutenant and the senator's son approached and stood for a moment looking down on the two captives.
"Why not call the drum-head now?" asked the senator's son. "It will help to pass a couple of hours which might otherwise be dull."
"Call it, then," said the officer. "The sooner it is over the better."
Ned looked up to the mountain as one looks to a friend for assistance and cheer when things are going hard, and the mountain did not disappoint him. For there, high up, was the green light of a distant rocket.
The Manhattan had found the gunboat and was using the signals.