CHAPTER III.—THE QUEST BEGINS.
For a moment the discovery paralysed him, body and mind. Then he turned and hurried to Jack's cabin. Jack was snoring. Don shook him fiercely by the shoulder.
“Wake up! The pearls are gone!”
Jack was awake and on his feet in a twinkling. “You're dreaming, old fellow,” said he, seeing Don in his night-clothes. “You're only half awake.” Don did not argue the matter. He simply seized Jack by the arm and dragged him into the main cabin. There the empty locker placed the truth of his assertion beyond dispute.
“What's to be done?” gasped Jack.
“Let us call Pug,” suggested Don. “He may know something about this.”
Puggles slept on deck. In two minutes they were by his side, and he was stretching his jaws in a mighty yawn. Great was his astonishment when he heard of the loss. But he could throw no light on the matter. He had neither seen nor heard anything suspicious. As for Puggles himself, he was above suspicion.
“Come down and let us have another look,” said Jack. “It's just possible, you know, that some one may have been to the locker and accidentally dropped or knocked the case out upon the floor. I can't believe it's gone.”
Just as they reached the bottom of the companion-way, Puggles, who was slightly in advance of his master, stopped short, and called their attention to an object dangling from the handle of the door. Jack caught it up and ran to the table, where the lighted candle stood.
“Merely a string of wooden beads,” said he, tossing the object on the table.
“A native rosary!” cried Don, snatching it up. “I've seen this before somewhere.”
“Sa'b,” broke in Puggles, his eyes the size and colour of Spanish onions, “him shark-charmer rosilly, sa'b!”
“The very same!” cried Don. “I recollect seeing it round his neck this morning.”
“And I recollect seeing it there this evening,” added Jack.
“When we bundled him out of the companionway?”
“Yes.”
“Then how do you account for our finding it on the door-knob, and for its being broken as it is now?”
“Don't you see? The fellow returned, of course.”
“Returned? When?”
“After we saw him over the side; he never went ashore. He sneaked back, and then made off in a tremendous hurry. The position, not to say the condition, in which we found the rosary proves that. Jove! what a pair of fools we've been. That rascally shark-charmer has diddled us out of the pearls.”
Don stared at his friend open-mouthed, yet unable to utter a single word either of assent or doubt, so great was the consternation produced in his mind by Jack's daring theory as to the disappearance of the pearls, and the consequences which must follow if it held good.
“You may take it to be a dead certainty,” resumed Jack, following up his idea, “that when Salambo actually left the ship, the pearls went with him. We made the rascal walk the plank this morning, and he's bound to resent that, of course. In fact, the way in which he shook his fist at us when he went off in the boat shows that he did resent it. Very well, then, there's a readymade motive for you—revenge.”
“That's all right,” said Don, finding his tongue at last, “I'm not boggling over the motive: the value of the pearls is enough motive for any nigger. What puzzles me is this: How did he know we had them in our possession at all?”
“Why, that's as plain as the nose on your face,” replied Jack; “the fellow was on shore at the same time we were, was he not?”
“He was.”
“Well, then, suppose he saw us buy the shells, watched us open them, and, in short, discovered that we had met with a stroke of luck. Then he follows us back here—you saw him yourself, didn't you?”
“I did,” said Don.
“And you see this, don't you?” dangling the rosary before Don's eyes.
“I do; I'm not blind.”
“Then what the dickens more do you want?”
“The pearls,” said Don, laughing. “I'm convinced, old fellow, so no more palaver. Our business now is to run the shark-charmer down. What's the time?”
“Eleven o'clock to the minute.”
“And what start of us do you think he has got?”
“It was about nine when we caught him sneaking, and we turned in at ten.”
“And out again half an hour later. Then the locker must have been rifled between ten and halfpast. That would give him, say, forty-five minutes' start if we were on his track at this identical moment, which we——— What was that? I heard a noise overhead.”
“Some one at the skylight,” said Jack in a whisper. “S-s-sh! I'll slip on deck and see who it is.”
The skylight referred to was situated directly over the cabin table, so that, its sash being then raised some six inches to admit the night air, it afforded a ready means of eavesdropping. Springing lightly up the cabin steps in his stocking feet, Jack took a cautious survey of the deck. The awning had been taken in at nightfall, and a full moon shone overhead, making the whole deck as light as day. Close beside the skylight, lashed against the cabin, stood a water-butt; and bending carelessly over this he saw one of the native crew. Calling out sharply, he bade him go forward, and the fellow, muttering some half-audible excuse about wanting a drink, slunk away.
“A lascar after water; I don't think he was spying,” said Jack, diving below again. “All the same, we'll keep an eye aloft; that rascally Salambo may have an accomplice among the crew.”
“Very likely; but as I was saying,” resumed Don, in a lower key, “the thief has had ample time to make himself scarce. Now the thing is—how are we to nab him?”
“There are the peons. * Why not get the guv to set them on the fellow's track?”
* Native attendants; pronounced pewns.—J..R. H.
“Why, there's just the difficulty,” said Don, with a despairing gesture. “They all sleep ashore except one or two; and by the time we woke the governor, explained matters to him, and got the fellows started, there'd be no end of delay. Besides, the rascal would naturally be on the look-out for the peons, and either give them the slip or bribe them to let him off.”
“That's so; whatever's done must be done sharp.”
“Just what I was going to say,” continued Don. “The schooner, you see, sails for Colombo in two or three days' time at the most, and it would put the governor to no end of inconvenience to despatch half-a-dozen peons on an errand like this just now. Fact is, I doubt if he'd do it at all, and we might go whistle for our pearls. No, I've a better plan than that to propose. There's no need to trouble the guv at all; we'll go ashore and capture the thief ourselves.”
“Capital!” cried Jack; “I'd like nothing better. When shall we start?”
“At once. There's a bright moon, the fellow has only about an hour's start, and with ordinary luck we ought to run him down by daybreak at the very——”
“Hist!” said Jack suddenly; “there's some one at the skylight again. Wait a minute—I'll soon put an end to his spying.”
Clearing the ladder at a bound, he emerged upon the deck before the listener was aware of his approach. The spy was actually bending over the open skylight. He was there for no good or friendly purpose—that was evident.
“You're not after water this time, anyhow,” said Jack, hauling him off the cabin with scant ceremony. “Didn't I tell you to go forward? You'll obey orders next time, perhaps;” and drawing off, he felled him to the deck with a single blow.
The lascar picked himself up and scuttled forward, muttering curses beneath his breath.
“There,” said Jack quietly, as he rejoined those below, “we'll not be spied upon again to-night, I fancy. Now, Don, for the rest of your plan.”
“That's soon told. I propose that we follow the thief at once. The only difficulty will be to get on his track.”
“Marster going take me?” queried Puggles anxiously.
“Why, of course,” said Don; “we couldn't manage without you, Pug.”
“Then,” said Puggles, grinning, “me soon putting on track; me knowing place Salambo sleeping plenty nights.”
“Good; there's something in that,” said Don. “He is sure to go straight to his den on leaving the schooner, though it's hardly likely he'll remain there to sleep. Still, he might. 'Twill give us a clue to his whereabouts, at all events. And now, Jack, ready's the word.”
No time was to be lost, and quietly and quickly their preparations were completed. These were by no means extensive: they fully expected to return to the schooner by break of day. A revolver, half-a-dozen rounds of ammunition, and a few rupees-disposed in their pockets, they stole noiselessly on deck. The night was one of breathless calm, and the watch lay stretched upon their backs, snoring away the sultry hours of duty. Save our three adventurers, not a living thing was astir; not a sound broke the stillness of the night; and high overhead the moon floated in ghostly splendour.
The boat, as it chanced, lay on that side of the schooner farthest from the shore; and in order to shape their course for the beach it was necessary to round the vessel's bows. Puggles held the tiller-ropes, but in doing this he miscalculated his distance, and ran the boat full tilt against the schooners cable.
“Keep her off, Pug!” cried his master in suppressed, half-angry tones. “Can't you see where you're steering?”
In the momentary confusion a figure appeared for a moment above the schooner's bulwarks. Then a glittering object hurtled through the moonlit air and struck the gun'le of the boat immediately abaft the thwait on which Jack sat. Jack uttered a stifled cry and dropped his oar.
“What's the matter?” said Don impatiently, as the boat swung clear of the cable. “Pull, old fellow; we've no time to lose.”
“Better lose a little time than one's life,” muttered Jack through his set teeth. “Look here!”
Turning in his seat Don saw, still quivering in the gun'le of the boat where its point had stuck, a sailor's heavy sheath-knife. In its passage it had slashed open the shoulder of Jack's coat, grazing the flesh so closely as to draw blood—the first shed in the quest of the golden pearl.
Jack passed it off with an air of indifference.
“A mere scratch,” said he; “but a close shave all the same. The work of that treacherous lascar I knocked down a while back. Saw his ugly head-piece above the rail just now, don't you know. There's no time to pay him out now, but if ever he interferes with me again he'll get his knife back, anyhow!” and wrenching the formidable weapon free of the plank, he thrust it into his belt and again bent to his oar.
“If that fellow's an accomplice of the shark-charmer, it looks as though they meant business,” commented Don, seconding his companion's stroke.
“So do we, if it comes to that,” was Jacks significant retort,
For some time they pulled in silence, the creaking of the oars in the rowlocks and the soft purling of the water about the boat's prow being the only sounds audible. When within a couple of hundred yards of the gleaming surfline, Don suddenly broke the silence.
“Hold hard, Jack! Do you make out anything astern there—anything black on the water?”
“Nothing,” said Jack, after a moment's hesitation.
“It's gone now, but I saw it quite plainly. Struck me it looked like a man's head. Must have been a dugong.”
“Or the lascar,” suggested Jack. “He's safe to follow us if he's an accomplice.”
“Hardly safe with so many sharks about,” rejoined Don, “unless his master has provided him with an extra potent charm.”
Five minutes later, the boat having meanwhile been beached upon the deserted sands, Puggles was rapidly “pointing” for the bazaar, where the shark-charmer slept o' nights. That they should find him there to-night, however, was almost too much to hope. He had probably “made tracks” with all speed after securing the pearls. All the same, a visit to the bazaar might furnish some clue to his present whereabouts.
“Stop!” said Don, when within fifty yards of the spot. “The whole place will be astir in two minutes if we show ourselves, Jack. We'd better send Pug on ahead to reconnoitre while we wait here. Do you know the hut he usually sleeps in, Pug?”
“Me finding with me eyes shut, sa'b.”
“Good! Now listen. Make your way to this hut as quietly as you can, and ascertain whether he's there or not. If he's there, don't wake him, but come back here as fast as your legs can carry you. If he's not there, try and find out where he's gone.”
“Put your cloth over your head so he won't recognise you, and say you've come on business,” put in Jack. “Pretend you want a charm, or something of that sort.”
“Not a bad idea,” assented Don. “You understand, Pug?”
“Me understanding, sa'b.”
“Then be off with you, sharp!”
Puggles promptly disappeared.
In the course of ten minutes he returned, accompanied by a native muffled from head to heel in a blanket.
“Surely he can't have induced the old fellow to return with him!” whispered Jack excitedly.
But in this surmise he was wrong. It was not the shark-charmer.
“Dis one bery nice black man; plenty talk got,” said Puggles, by way of introduction, when he reached the spot where his master and Jack were waiting. “Him telling shark-charmer no here; he going one village.”
“Just as I feared,” said Don. “How far is it to this village, Pug!”
“Him telling one two legs,” replied Puggles, meaning leagues. “Village 'long shore; marster giving one rupee, dis'black man showing way.”
Without further parley the rupee was transferred from Don's pocket to the stranger's outstretched palm, and off they started. After following the beach for about a mile, their guide turned his back upon the sea and struck inland, leading them a tortuous course amid ghostly, interminable sand-hills, where the mournful sighing of the night-wind through the tall silver-grass, and the howling of predatory jackals, added to the weird loneliness of the scene. A blurred furrow in the yielding sand formed the only footpath. So slow was their progress that when at last the guide pointed out the village a halfmile ahead, Don, on consulting his watch, found it to be three o'clock. They had wasted fully two hours in walking six miles.
While they were still some little distance short of the village, the guide stopped, and pointing out a pool of water which shone like a boss of polished silver amid the sand-hills, asked leave to go and slake his thirst. His request granted, he disappeared amid the dunes.
“Do you know,” said Jack, while they were impatiently awaiting his return, “I fancy I've seen that fellow before, though I can't for the life of me recall where.”
The guide not returning, they at length went in search of him. But Pug's “bery nice black man” was nowhere to be seen.
“Looks as if he meant to leave us in the lurch,” Jack began, when a shout of “Him here got, sa'b!” from Puggles, brought them back to the footpath at a run.
The new-comer, however, was not the missing guide, but a stranger. He had been belated at the bazaar, he told them, and was now making his way home to the village close by. In answer to inquiries concerning the shark-charmer, he imparted a startling piece of news.
The shark-charmer had indeed taken his departure from the bazaar, but not to this village. He had, the stranger asserted, embarked in a coasting vessel bound for the opposite side of the Strait.
Don uttered an exclamation of impatience and dismay.
“He will be safe on the Madras coast by daybreak!” he cried.
“Him there coming from, sa'b,” put in Puggles.
“And that lying guide,” added Jack savagely, “was an accomplice, left behind to throw us off the scent. Don't you remember you saw some one swimming after the boat? I'll lay any odds 'twas the lascar. He got to the bazaar ahead of us—he could easily manage that, you know, by running along the sands—muffled himself up so that I shouldn't recognise him, and then led us on this fool's errand while his master made off. Well, good-bye to the golden pearl!”
“Not a bit of it!” cried Don resolutely. “I, for one, shan't relinquish the quest, come what may. Back we go to the schooner! Then, with the governor's consent, we'll go further. Point, Pug!”
Jack seconding this proposal heartily, they rewarded the communicative native, and with unflagging determination retraced their steps. By four o'clock they had traversed something more than half the distance. The dawn star was now high above the eastern horizon. A rosy flush in the same quarter warned them that day was rapidly approaching. Suddenly, out of the gray distance ahead, a dull booming sound floated to their ears.
“The schooner's signal gun!” exclaimed Don. “Why, it's too early yet by a good hour for the boats to put out. What's the governor about, I wonder?”
“There it goes again!” cried Jack. “I never knew it to be fired twice of a morning, did you?”
“Never,” said Don uneasily. “Come, let us get on!”
Off again at their best speed, until at length the heavy path was exchanged for the smooth, hard sand of the beach. On this it was possible to make better time, and by five o'clock they were within half a mile or so of the bazaar. It was now daylight; but a sharp bend in the coast-line, and the sand-hills which here rose steeply from the beach on their left, as yet concealed both the landing-place and the schooner from view.
Puggles, who in spite of his shortness of limb had throughout maintained the lead by several rods, suddenly stopped, and fell to shouting and gesticulating wildly. Breaking into a run, Don and Jack speedily came up with him.
“Look, sa'b, look!” gasped Puggles, pointing down the coast with shaking hand.
Far away on the horizon appeared the white canvas of a vessel bowling along before the fresh land breeze, with a fleet of fishing-boats spreading their fustian-hued wings in her wake.
The spot where our adventurers had last seen the schooner at anchor was deserted. She was gone!
CHAPTER IV.—INTRODUCES BOSIN, AND TELLS HOW CAPTAIN MANGO PROVED HIMSELF A TRUMP.
The schooner had sailed!
When the dismay caused by this unlooked-for turn of events had somewhat abated, Jack, catching sight of the black boy's lugubrious face, fell to laughing heartily.
“After all,” said Don, following his chum's example, “it's no use crying over spilt milk. I'm not sure but this is the best thing that could have happened, Jack.”
“My opinion exactly. We began the quest without the guv's knowledge, and nolens volens we must continue it without his consent. What's the next piece on the programme, old fellow?”
Don pondered for a moment.
“Why, first,” said he, “we must ascertain whether that fellow told us the truth about the shark-charmer's having gone across the Strait. If it turns out that he has, then I'm not exactly clear yet as to what our next move will be, though I've an idea. You shall hear what it is later on.”
“All right,” said Jack “whatever course you decide on, I'm with you heart and fist, anyhow.”
Arrived in the vicinity of the bazaar, Puggles was at once despatched to learn what he could of the shark-charmer's movements. In half an hour he returned. His report confirmed that which they had already heard. The shark-charmer had undoubtedly sailed for the opposite side of the Strait.
Throwing himself upon his back in the shade of the banyan tree which had witnessed the discovery of the pearls, Don drew his helmet over his eyes, and pondered long and deeply.
“Jack,” said he at length, “how much money have you?”
Jack turned out his pockets.
“Barely a rupee and a half,” said he,
“And I,” added Don, turning out his own, “have four and a half.”
“Here one rupee got, sa'b,” cried Puggles, tugging at his waist-cloth. “Me giving him heart and fist, anyhow.”
“That makes seven rupees, then,” said his master, laughing; “not much to continue the quest on, eh, Jack?”
“We'll manage,” said Jack hopefully. “But, I say, you haven't told us your plans yet, old fellow.”
“Oh, our course is as plain as a pikestaff. We'll hire a native boat, and follow the shark-charmer across the Strait. The only question is, where's enough money to come from?”
“Don't know,” said Jack, “unless we try to borrow it in the bazaar.”
At this juncture there occurred an interruption which, unlikely though it may seem, was destined to lead to a most satisfactory solution of this all-important and perplexing question.
While this conversation was in progress Puggles had seated himself at a short distance behind his master, and throwing his turban aside, proceeded to untie and dress the one tuft of hair which adorned the back of his otherwise cleanly shaven head.
Directly above the spot where he sat there extended far out from the trunk of the banyan a branch of great size, from which dangled numerous rope-like air-roots, which, reaching to-within a few feet of the ground, swayed to and fro in the morning breeze. Out along this branch crept a large black monkey, which, after taking a cautious survey of Puggles and his unconscious neighbours, glided noiselessly down one of the swinging roots, and from its extremity dropped lightly to the ground within a yard of the discarded turban. Cautiously, with his cunning ferret-eyes fastened on the preoccupied Puggles, the monkey approached the coveted prize, snatched it up, and with a shrill cry of triumph turned tail and fled.
Looking quickly round at the cry, Puggles took in the situation at a glance.
“Sa'b! Sar!” he shouted, invoking the aid of both his master and Jack in one breath, “one black debil monkey me turban done hooking;” and leaping to his feet he gave chase.
“Why,” said Jack, “the little beast is making a bee-line for the old fort. It must be Bosin, Captain Mango's pet monkey.”
“Captain Mango!” cried Don, as though seized with some sudden inspiration. “Never thought of him until this minute!” and, clapping on his helmet, he set off at a run after Puggles and the monkey.
Away like the wind went the monkey, the stolen turban trailing after him through the sand like a great serpent; and away went Puggles, his back hair flying. But while Puggles was short of wind, the monkey was nimble of foot. The race was, therefore, unequal from the start, its finish more summary than satisfactory; for as Puggles ran, with his eyes glued upon the scurrying monkey, and his mouth wide-stretched, his foot unluckily came in contact with a tree-root, which lay directly across his path. Immediately beyond was a bed of fine soft sand, and into this he pitched, head foremost. Just then his master came up, with Jack at his heels.
“Sa'b! Sar!” spluttered Puggles, knuckling his eyes and spitting sand right and left, “debil monkey done stole turban. Where him going, sa'b?”
“Come on, Pug,” his master called out as he ran past; “your headgear's all right—the monkey's taken it into the fort.”
The structure known as “the fort” occupied the summit of a sandy knoll, about which grew a thick plantation of cocoanut palms, seemingly as ancient as the fort itself. The walls of the enclosure had so crumbled away in places as to afford glimpses of the buildings within. These were two in number—one an ancient godown, as dilapidated as the surrounding wall; the other, a bungalow in excellent repair, blazing in all the glory of abundant whitewash.
Towards this building, after passing the tumble-down gateway, with its turreted side-towers alive with pigeons, Don and his companion shaped their course; for this was by no means their first visit to the fort. A broad, low-eaved verandah shaded the front of the bungalow, and upon this opened two or three low windows and a door. As they drew near a shadow suddenly darkened the doorway, and there emerged upon the verandah an individual whose pea-jacket and trousers of generous nautical cut unmistakably proclaimed him to be a seafaring man. About his throat a neckerchief of a deep marine blue was tied in a huge knot; while from beneath the left leg of his wide pantaloons there projected the end of a stout wooden substitute for the real limb.
On catching sight of his visitors an expression of mingled astonishment and pleasure overspread his honest, bronzed features.
“Shiver my binnacle!” roared he, advancing with a series of hitches and extended hand to meet them. “Shiver my binnacle if it ain't Master Don and Master Jack made port again! An' split my topsails, yonder's the little nigger swab a-bearin' down under full sail out o' the offin! Lay alongside the old hulk, my hearties, an' tell an old shipmate what may be the meaning of it all. Where away might the schooner be, I axes?”
“To tell you the truth, Captain Mango,” said Don, shaking the old sailor by the hand in hearty fashion, “on that point we're as much at sea as yourself. We pulled ashore last night on a little matter of business of our own—without the skipper's knowledge, you understand—and when we returned here this morning the schooner had sailed.”
“Shiver my figger-head if ever I hear'd any yarn to beat that!” roared the captain, gripping Jack by the hand in turn. “An' d'ye mean to say now, as ye ain't atween decks, sound asleep in your bunks, when the wessel gets under weigh?”
“Not we,” cried Jack, laughing at the captain's puzzled face and earnest manner; “we were miles down the coast just then.”
“Belay there!” sang out the captain, rubbing his stubbly chin in greater perplexity than ever. “Blow me if I'm able to make out what tack you're on, lad. For, d'ye see, I lays alongside o' the wessel somewheres about eight bells—arter they fires the signal gun, d'ye see—to pay my 'specks to the master like, and shiver my bulk-head, when I axes what might your bearin's be, lads, he ups an' says, 'The younkers be below decks,' says he; an' so he weighs anchor, an' shapes his course for Colombie.”
“It's plain there's been a double misunderstanding,” said Don; “we knew nothing of the guv's intention to sail this morning, and he knew nothing of our absence from the schooner. He, of course, thought we were below, and so sailed without us. As I hinted just now, we're ashore on business of our own. Fact is, we're in a fix, and we want your advice.”
“Adwice is it?” cried the captain, leading his visitors indoors; “fire away, lads, till I hears what manner o' stuff you wants, and the wery best a water-logged old seaman can give ye, ye shall have—shiver my figger-head if ye shan't! Howsomedever, afore we lays our heads together like, I'll pipe the cook and order ye some wittles.” This hospitable duty performed, the captain threw himself into a chair with his “main-brace,” as he jocosely termed his wooden leg, extended before him, and, bidding Don proceed with what he had to say, composed himself to listen. Whereupon Don recounted the cause and manner of the shark-charmer's punishment, the discovery and subsequent loss of the pearls, together with their reasons for suspecting the shark-charmer of the theft, as well as how they had been tricked by the latter's supposed accomplice, and on making their way back to the beach had found, not the schooner as they expected, but a deserted roadstead.
“The thief has crossed the Strait, there's no doubt about that,” he concluded. “We want to hire a boat and go in pursuit of him; but the governor's sudden departure has placed us in a dilemma. The fact is, captain, we haven't enough cash to——”
“Belay there!” roared the captain, stumping across the room to a side-table. “Hold hard, lads, till I has a whiff o' the fragrant! Shiver my maintop! there's nothing like tobackie for ilin' up a seaman's runnin' gear, says you!”
Filling a meerschaum pipe of high colour and huge dimensions from a pouch almost as large as a sailor's bag, the captain reseated himself, and for some minutes puffed away in silence.
“Shiver my smokestack!” cried he at last, slapping his thigh energetically with his disengaged hand, “the thing's as easy as boxin' the compass, lads! You axes me for adwice: my adwice is, up anchor and away as soon as ye can. Supplies is low, says you. What o' that? I axes. There's a canvas bag in the old sea-chest yonder as'll charter all the boats hereabouts, if so be as they're wanted, which they ain't, d'ye mind me. Ye can dror on the canvas bag, lads, an' welcome—why not? I axes. An' there's as tight a leetle cutter in the boat-house below as ever ye clapped eyes on—which the Jolly Tar's her name—what's at your sarvice, shiver my main-brace if it ain't! An' blow me, as the fog-horn says to the donkey-engine, I'll ship along with ye, lads!”
“An' a-sailin' we'll go, we'll go;
An' a-sailin' we will go-o-o!”
he concluded, with a stave of a rollicking old sea-song.
“Hurrah! You're a trump, captain, and no mistake!” cried Jack, while Don sprang forward and gripped the old sailor's hand with a heartiness that showed how thoroughly he appreciated this generous offer.
“Why, y'see, lads,” explained the captain apologetically, “'twould be ekal to a-sendin' of ye to Davy Jones if I was to let ye go pokin” round this 'ere Strait alone. Now me—rope-yarn an' marlin-spikes!—there ain't a reef, nor a shool, nor yet a crik atween Colombie an' Jafna P'int but what's laid down on this 'ere old chart o' mine,” tapping his forehead significantly. “An' besides I'm a-spilin' for a bit o' the briny, so with you I ships—an' why not? I axes.”
“And right glad of your company and assistance we'll be, captain,” said Don. “The main difficulty will be, of course, to discover to what part of the Indian coast the thief has gone.”
The captain puffed thoughtfully at his pipe.
“Why, as for that,” said he at length, “I've an idee as I knows his reckonin', shiver my binnacle if I ain't! But that's neither here nor there at this present speakin'. Ballast's the first consideration, lads; so dror up your cheers an' tackle the perwisions.”
When they had complied with this welcome invitation to the entire satisfaction of the captain and their own appetites, “Now, lads,” said the old sailor gaily, “do ye turn in an' snatch a wink o' sleep, whiles I goes an' gets the cutter ready for puttin' to sea. For, says you, look alive's the word if so be as we wants to overhaul the warmint as took the treasure in tow. Spike my guns!—we'll make him heave to in no time!
“For all things is ready, an' nothing we want,
To fit out our ship as rides so close by;
Both wittles an' weapons, they be nothing scant,
Like worthy sea-dogs ourselves we will try!”
Trolling this ditty, the captain stumped away, while his guests made themselves as comfortable as they could, and sought the slumber of which they stood so much in need.
It was late in the afternoon when they woke. Puggles had disappeared. Proceeding to the beach, they found the captain, assisted by a small army of native servants, busily engaged in putting the-finishing touches to his preparations for the proposed voyage. Just above the surf-line lay the Jolly Tar—a trim little craft, fitted with mast-and sprit, whose sharp, clean-cut lines betokened possibilities in the way of speed that promised well for the issue of their enterprise. In the cuddy, amid a bewildering array of pots, pans, and pannkins, Puggles had already installed himself, his shining face a perfect picture of self-complacent good-nature, whilst Bosin, newly released from durance vile, sat in the stern-sheets, cracking nuts-and jabbering defiance at his black rival.
“A purty craft!” chuckled the captain, checking for a moment the song that was always on his lips, as he led his visitors to the cutters side; “stave my water-butt if there's anything can pull ahead of her in these 'ere parts. Everything shipshape 'an' ready to hand, d'ye see—wittles for the woyage, an' drink for the woyagers. Likewise ammunitions o' war,” cried he proudly, pointing out a number of muskets and shining cutlasses, which a servant just then brought up and placed on board.
“Bath, wittles an' weapons, they be nothing scant,
So like worthy sea-dogs ourselves we will try.”
“What with the cutlasses and guns, and the captain's wooden leg, to say nothing of our small-arms, Don,” said Jack, “we'd better set up for buccaneers at once.”
“Shiver my main-brace! a wooden leg ain't sich a bad article arter all,” rejoined the captain; “specially when a seaman falls overboard. With a life-buoy o' that nater rove on to his starn-sheets, he's sartin to keep one leg above water, says you.”
“No doubt of that, even if he goes down by the head,” assented Don, laughing. “But, I say, captain, what's in the keg—spirits?”
“Avast there!” replied the captain, half shutting one eye and contemplating the keg with the other, “that 'ere keg, lads, has stuff in its hold what's a sight better'n spurts. Gunpowder, lads, that's what it is; and spike my guns if we don't broach the same to the health of old Salambo when we falls in with him. What say you, lads?
“We always be ready,
Steady, lads, steady;
We'll fight an' we'll conquer agin an' agin.”
“I hope we shan't have to do that, captain,” said Jack gravely. “But powder or no powder, we'll pay the beggar out, anyhow.”
“Right, lad; so we'll just take the keg along with us in case of emargencies like. Shiver my compass, there's no telling aforehand what this 'ere wenture may lead to.”
To whatever the venture was destined to lead, preparations for its successful inception went on apace, and by nightfall all was in readiness. The captain declaring that he “couldn't abide the ways o' them 'ere jabbering nigger swabs when afloat,” the only addition to their numbers was a single trusty servant of the old sailor's, who was taken along rather with a view to the cutter's safety when they should be ashore than because his assistance was required in sailing her.
Don having despatched an overland messenger with a letter to his father, explaining their absence and proposed undertaking, as the full moon rose out of the eastern sea the cutter was launched.
Half an hour later, with her white sails bellying before the freshening land-breeze, she bore away for the opposite shore of the Strait, on that quest from which one at least of those on board was destined never to return.
While her sails were yet visible in the moonlit offing, a native crept down to the deserted beach. He was a dark-skinned, evil-featured fellow; and the moonlight, falling upon his face, showed his left temple to be swollen and discoloured as from a recent blow. On his shoulder he carried a paddle-and a boathook.
“The wind will drop just before dawn,” he muttered, as he stood a moment noting the strength and direction of the breeze. “Then, you white-devil, then!” and he patted the boathook affectionately, as if between him and it there existed some secret, dark understanding.
Selecting a ballam or “dug-out” from amongst a number that lay there, he placed the boathook carefully in the bottom of the frail skiff, and launched it almost in the furrow which the cutter's keel had ploughed in the yielding sand. Then springing in, and plying his paddle with rapid strokes, he quickly disappeared in the cutter's wake.
