CHAPTER VII—THE THREE COLORED GEMS
“It was MacDuffy,” continued the lad, “who organized an expedition to go to your father’s rescue. There was MacDuffy, Captain Andrews, four seamen and myself. The rest were left in charge of the Sea King, the engine-room force having instructions to proceed with the repairs to the shaft, which were really simple enough, consisting only of bolting a collar of metal around the split.
“We were heavily armed, as you may imagine, and after we had landed in the light boat, we stowed it in the brush where it would not be likely to be discovered by marauders. The other boat, the one in which your father landed, had been stove in by those rascally natives. Our first task after this, was to bury poor Kettle as decently as we could. This done, we took up the trail, which was plain enough to follow. In fact, we learned afterward, it was a regular path that the natives followed when they came to the coast after turtles and fish.
“Danger? Well, we knew we were going into a desperate game, but, as MacDuffy said, we couldn’t do otherwise than our best to rescue your father. As we made our way through the jungle we discussed the situation. It looked black and no mistake. In the first place, as Captain Andrews pointed out, the revolution was raging in northern Mexico, and Diaz, in his last desperate stand, had withdrawn troops from every province in Mexico. Captain Andrews told us that the descendants of the Mayas, who inhabited this part of Yucatan, were endowed with a fierce hatred of Mexicans and white men in general, and that they had been kept in subjugation solely by the presence of large bodies of troops. With this menace to their warlike ideas withdrawn, the Mayas were probably ripe for any mischief.
“All this, as you can imagine, didn’t tend to raise our spirits, and the prospect of rescuing your father began to seem remote indeed. Well, to cut a long story short, we followed the trail for two days till we began to arrive in the foothills of the range we had seen. Occasionally we came across what were evidently the sites of recent camps, so we knew that we were on the track all right.
“The third day, about noon, we marched right out of a canyon, threaded by a swift river, into an Indian settlement. Before we could say ‘knife,’ or raise a weapon, we were surrounded and made captives. We were thrown into a palm-thatched hut and placed under strict guard, and we faced the prospect of a speedy death. But at the moment we thought little of these matters, for the hut already contained three other captives, and they were Professor Chadwick, Abner Jennings and Jack Allworthy, the last wounded in the shoulder by the spear thrust that had knocked him down, but luckily not seriously.
“You can guess how delighted we were in the first few moments, and then how depressed we all became as we began to realize that so far as an escape was concerned we might as well have been imprisoned in an iron-walled dungeon. We were deprived of nothing in the way of food, and were not bound in any way, but the hut was surrounded by too strong a guard to make any idea of escape practicable. So the night passed, a night that we spent in discussing and rejecting a hundred plans of escape, for each, in turn, was discarded as hopeless.
“But, although we did not realize it, freedom for some of us was close at hand. Shortly before noon the sky became black as night. A screaming sort of wind arose, and suddenly we felt the ground under our feet beginning to rock. It didn’t take us long to catch on that the disturbance was caused by an earthquake of uncommon severity. The natives began to howl and yell, and rushed about like madmen. That wind suddenly picked up our prison and whisked it off, just as it might have dealt with an umbrella. And there we stood, in the middle of all this commotion, unbound and practically free to go where we would, for the natives were far too busy attending to their own affairs to worry about us.
“In the middle of the uproar and the convulsions of the earth, a whole section of the cliff which upreared itself at the back of the settlement, slid down with a roar like a hundred Niagaras. It caught that village, just as a big rock would smash an anthill. We escaped by the skin of our teeth, but, as it was, we were showered with flying rocks and earth. Luckily, none of us was injured.
“But those poor natives fared otherwise. Of the scores that had been rushing about an instant before hardly twenty remained. One of these was a big fellow, with a beautiful copper-colored skin, clad in a sort of garment made out of jaguar hide. He separated from the rest, and we saw that he carried under his arm a large box, or case, which gleamed dully in the gloom.
“‘He’s making for the canoes!’ shouted MacDuffy suddenly, and then, sure enough, we saw what we hadn’t noticed before in all that hurly-burly, namely, that several dugouts were moored to the river bank. I guess we all caught the inspiration at the same instant. Anyhow, we began running for the bank at top speed. But suddenly that copper-colored giant faced about, and we now saw that he carried a whole quiver full of those poisoned darts that the Maya tribes use with deadly effect.
“Before he could aim one, or shout to the rest of the villagers, who hadn’t noted our escape, Abner Jennings flew at him like a wildcat. Down he went, bowled over like a ninepin, under a crashing blow from Jennings’ fist.
“‘Hurray, lads! Now for the boats!’ shouted Allworthy, and we scampered after him toward them. But at that instant a queer thing happened. A man came racing toward us from amidst the ruins of the village.
“‘Get him!’ yelled Allworthy savagely, as Jennings stooped and picked up a big rock.
“But the next instant his hand dropped to his side. The man was white! In spite of his half-naked condition and sun-browned skin, it was clear enough that he was as much of a Caucasian as any of us, and then came the wonderful part of it all.
“‘In the name of heaven, white men, stop!’ he shouted, ‘take me with you. I am——’”
“Jasper Jesson!”
It was Tom Jesson who had uttered the exclamation. In a flash of intuition he had seen what was coming before Ned uttered it. The lad literally quivered with excitement as he spoke.
“Right. It was your father, Tom,” rejoined Ned. “Professor Chadwick stopped, ran back and embraced him. For a minute we all stood stock still, rooted there by sheer amazement, I guess. Well, we got to the canoes and set out down the river. There were four dugouts, and the way they dashed down that stretch of water was a caution. No need to paddle. The current just tore along for several miles. I don’t see how it was we didn’t upset, but the fact remains that we didn’t. Pretty soon we reached a part of the stream where another flowed into it, and it broadened out and grew calmer.
“Then, for the first time, we felt free to talk. We hauled the canoes ashore and camped while we discussed plans. But first, you may imagine, we heard Mr. Jesson’s story. He had been captured by the tribe who had trapped us, soon after his arrival in the country. And their prisoner he had remained since. Undoubtedly he would have been put to death, but he had by great good luck managed to translate some cryptograms carved in the marble stones of some ruins in the mountains, and after that they looked on him as a sort of god. At any rate, he was well treated, but given no chance to escape. The earthquake that had set us loose had proved his opportunity, too. Of course, it’s no use my trying to give you any idea of his delight and astonishment at finding his brother-in-law and getting news of you, Tom, and of the old home.
“He had just about concluded his story, when Mr. Chadwick drew from under his coat that same metal box that we had seen the big copper-colored fellow skedaddling with. He had taken it from the chap as he lay stunned, rightly guessing that it was of immense value. But he was far from surmising what it was he had really discovered, till a few moments later.
“‘Maybe, Jesson,’ he said, ‘you can tell me what kind of a box this is. It’s silver, all right, for one thing, but it’s covered with some sort of picture writing, too, and——’
“But Tom’s father interrupted him with a shout.
“‘Good heavens, man!’ he exclaimed, ‘you’ve got hold of the holy of holies of the Zakaks,’——that’s the name of the tribe that had hooked us.
“While we all looked on with open mouths, Mr. Jesson broke a long thorn off a prickly bush growing near at hand and shoved it into a small hole in the front of the box. The lid flew open, and there inside was something that made us blink our eyes,—a blood-red stone, a blue one, and a gorgeous green gem.
“We all caught our breath, I can tell you. Each stone was as big as a pigeon’s egg, and it didn’t take an expert to tell that we had before us a ruby, a turquoise and an emerald that had, probably, not their equals in the world.
“Then Mr. Jesson told us how the tribe had a legend that those stones were brought from some, mysterious land beyond the seas by their fore-runners, and that if they were stolen or lost disaster would overtake them. At certain phases of the moon, he said, the stones were worshiped with all sorts of queer rites that he had not been permitted to witness.
“We, none of us, could guess what they were worth, but it was a safe estimate that they represented a snug fortune. As for the box itself, it was, as I said, of dull silver, with three sort of oval bosses or bumps on its cover. These were of a reddish color, and were evidently of no value except as ornaments. After some more talk it was decided to make for the Texan coast, and as soon as we had regained the yacht, get into wireless communication with you lads.
“Professor Chadwick explained that he had had a half-formed intention of attempting to find Mr. Jesson before he left America, and for that reason had sent you boys to Lone Island so that he might notify you of his success by wireless as soon as possible, without letting the general public know, and also have you handy in case of an emergency.”
“So that explains Lone Island,” struck in Jack, “but go on, Ned. I can hardly wait for the rest of your story.”
“Neither can I,” added Tom; “but aren’t you fellows surprised that we don’t hear anything from outside?”
“It is strange,” agreed Jack. “I’ll run up again soon.”
“Well,” continued Ned, “we knew that by following the river we must emerge on the coast, probably near to the spot where the yacht was anchored. We therefore lost no time in re-embarking and getting on our way once more. Luckily, there was some food, bananas and dried flesh of some animal,—deer, most likely,—in the canoes, which must have been provisioned for a trip. So that night, when we camped, we had a good supper, with something left over for the next day.
“We slept under the canoes, turning them keel up to form a protection from the dews, and also from any prowling animals. The spot we had chosen was well back in the brush, so that in case of pursuit we had a good hiding place. But we slept without interruption, taking watch in turn. The next morning, before it was well light, we set out down the river again, and that afternoon we had reason to think we were close to the coast. The character of the jungle on either side of the river changed and the stream grew wider and more sluggish.
“So far we had had no indication that we were not the only human beings in that part of the country, so you can imagine our astonishment when, about mid-afternoon, on rounding a bend in the stream, we beheld a squat, drab-colored craft, without spars or funnel, moored to the bank. It didn’t need a second glance to tell us that she was a fighting craft of some kind. On her decks were the outlines of several rapid-fire guns shrouded under canvas covers. Her bow was shaped like a ram, and we could see by the rows of rivets along her sides that she was built of steel.
“‘That’s one of the new shoal-draft, gasolene gunboats, built for the Diaz government at the Vulcan yards in Charlestown,’ declared Professor Chadwick at once.
“He had hardly spoken when several of the crew, who had been lounging about the decks, saw us coming. There was an instant stir on board the ugly-looking craft, and presently the figure of a small, dark-skinned man, with a black, pointed beard and moustache, and heavy, sinister eyebrows, appeared on the bridge, which was just forward of a sort of conning tower.
“He wore white garments and a broad-brimmed Panama hat. As soon as he appeared he hailed us.
“‘Come alongside, gentlemen,’ he said, using almost perfect English. ‘I welcome you to El Tarantula.’”