CHAPTER II
A CONTRABAND CARGO
"Well, what d'you know about that?" queried Billy, easily relapsing into slang when the first few minutes' surprise had worn off.
"Dunno much about it," Captain Vinton answered in a somewhat gruff tone, "but it looks to me mighty like a filibuster's craft, or p'rhaps a smuggler's."
At the word "filibuster," the boys—-figuratively speaking—-pricked up their ears.
"What on earth can they be trying to smuggle?" was Hugh's eager question, to which the captain replied promptly:
"Arms,—-leastways, cartridges or gunpowder. They ain't tryin' to smuggle 'em into Fluridy, but out of it," he explained. "Some gang of raskils is buyin' small quantities of war goods up state—-or else from Cuby—-totin' 'em down the coast an' through th' Everglades, and gettin' 'em aboard some steamboat like that one, and so away where they'll do the most harm. Get me?"
"Yes," replied Alec, "but I never would have thought such tricks were possible in these days."
"Boy, you can't never tell what's just possible or what ain't, in these days," gravely asserted Captain Vinton. "All sorts o' things is like to happen, and sometimes it's durned hard to know just what's goin' on. But if that's any filibustin' outfit, they'd better make tracks out o' these waters as fast as they can lay beam to wind'ard."
So saying, he shifted the helm again and bore away at an angle that would enable them to come close to the revenue cutter, now scarcely a quarter of a mile astern. Lighter and lighter came the wind, slower glided the Arrow over the long heavy swells, nearer and nearer came the cutter, going at a steady, rapid rate. Soon the two vessels were within hailing distance, and a megaphone call came across the water, clear and distinct:
"Sloop, ahoy! Can you understand?"
"Aye, aye!" called Vinton.
The five boys gathered around him, eager to hear the interchange of calls. Even Dave rose and shambled over to the little group at the tiller. On the other vessel they could now see a number of men in blue uniforms and one in a civilian's suit of gray tweeds.
"Who've you got aboard?" came the next question from the captain of the Petrel.
Vinton briefly stated his passenger list and explained the purpose of their cruise.
"Bound for Key West now?" shouted the Petrel's captain, whom
Vinton, studying him through the marine glass, recognized as James
Kelsey. "Trying to dodge that craft that just passed us, or trying
to catch her?"
"We were goin' to report as how we seen her las' night off Snipe Point," bawled Vinton, speaking through a megaphone which Dave had handed to him. "Thought you fellows were at Key West."
"We were until this morning," came the answer. "We've been chasing that boat. She's the Esperanza, a smuggler. Have you seen her throwing anything overboard, or picking up stuff—-like boxes or small kegs?"
Then a light of understanding broke upon Vinton's mind. So that was what the smuggler had been doing all night! Not grappling for the cable, but stealthily picking up a contraband cargo of munitions of war, small stores such as could be cast adrift along the coast in some prearranged method and gathered in by those who had been instructed to recognize the floating objects! What were they? Water-tight kegs of dynamite, submerged, but buoyed up by thrice their weight of corks? Boxes of rifle bullets? Or merely harmless glass bottles containing, perhaps, written descriptions of the country to be invaded, photographs of fortifications, details of naval or military equipment?
The answer was not long forthcoming.
"Ain't seen her pick up anything," shouted Vinton, "but reckon that's her lay. What's she after?"
"Dynamite."
"By thunder!" ejaculated the captain in a low tone of awe.
"Yes, that's just what they'll do, if they can," Billy commented with one of his irrepressible grins. "They'll buy thunder. You've said it, Cap! But what'll they use it for?"
Vinton paid not the slightest heed to Billy's poor pun. Instead, while Alec gave Billy a dig in the ribs, the captain put the same question to Kelsey.
"Oh, you know they've started another one of those dinky revolutions in Panama, two generals fighting for the presidency," explained Kelsey. He no longer was obliged to shout curtailed messages through his megaphone, but spoke through it in a tone only a few degrees louder than ordinarily; for the sloop and the steamer were now almost alongside. "Well, the U.S. and Cuba want to stay entirely out of the little war game; but one side of the revolution, the Visteros, are sore at Uncle Sam and trying to make him take a hand. They've got agents in all the Gulf states, in Cuba and Hayti, and they're trying to stir up trouble."
What kind o trouble?
"Any old kind. They're not particular as to the brand. It's war stores they want, and discontented loafers for soldiers of fortune. And the Visteros are stealing dynamite to threaten the Canal."
"Bosh!" roared Vinton in a loud guffaw. "They couldn't do it! Let 'em try!"
"Yes,—-let 'em! But meanwhile, we're out to put the kibosh on this smuggling. By the way, Vinton, now that you've made your report, you can turn around again when you've got the wind, and go back up along the coast. No need to go to Key West now."
"Hum-mp!" grunted Dave. "Waste time, get sick—-all for nuthin'!"
"Shut up, you greasy Seminole!" muttered Vinton, and he turned away scornfully. "All right, we will," he called to the Petrel. "What you goin' to do?"
"First find out if that craft hid anything over there behind that key where she was lying, and then follow her."
More confabbing of an unimportant and general nature followed between Vinton and Kelsey and the man in tweeds, who was evidently the special correspondent of some newspaper. At the end of the conference, Kelsey called out:
"Well, I guess we'll mosey on, Lem. Goodby and good luck to you. If you meet any smugglers in the upper 'glades or along the coast, send word to Tampa; they'll rush a cutter with some of the Gulf police to the spot. Keep a sharp eye on strange-looking craft, will you?"
"Aye, aye!" responded the Arrow's captain, little knowing into what adventures this pursuit of smugglers would lead him and his crew.
In a few minutes the Petrel had swung about and was heading in the direction from which the Esperanza had appeared. The Arrow was left becalmed and drifting on the heavy swells of the Gulf; but her crew, excited by the prospect of encountering freebooters of the main, forgot to be seasick, even if they had been so inclined, and fell to preparing their noonday meal.
Vinton tilted his cap over his left eye and surveyed the trim Arrow with frank satisfaction, at the conclusion of their repast.
"All shipshape, boys? Good! Reckon I'll let one of you steer awhile, and hit my bunk for an hour or two. There'll be wind out'n the sou'east, later on; and then I'll take charge again. All you've got to do now is to turn her around, with her nose pointin' yonder,"—-he waved a hand toward the distant Sanibel Islands that stretch along the coast south of Charlotte Harbor,—-"and take 'vantage of every puff of wind that you can use for tackin'. Understand?"
They signified their readiness to manage the sloop, once she had gone well beyond any reefs or bars, and they drew lots to see who should be first to take the captain's place while he rested. The draw, fell to Chester and he took charge of the helm. Alec came next, then Billy took his turn, and finally Hugh. While one steered, the others kept a look-out for the erratic Esperanza, thinking it might again appear from some unexpected quarter. Mark and Roy Norton lounged in the bow and lazily swapped fishing stories, not at all averse to leaving the work to the rest.
With the departure of the Petrel on her return to the waters near Snipe Point, and with a barely-perceptible rise of wind, the sloop Arrow laid a zigzag course toward the Ten Thousand Islands and came abreast of them about five o'clock. Beyond a broad inlet that led into the bay, a white sand beach, sparsely overgrown with crabgrass and waving palmettos, indicated to Dave that they were near one of his old camping places. He called Captain Vinton's attention to it, hinting that it would be a good place to spend the night.
"Why not aboard the sloop?" queried Vinton, though he knew perfectly well that Dave would seek any excuse to stretch his unseaworthy limbs on terra firma in preference to tossing on the bosom of old ocean.
"Bad weather comin',—-windy to-night," said the Seminole prophet, pointing to a bank of jagged slaty-gray clouds that was rising in the west over the gulf.
"Reckon you're right, Dave. If that brings half the wind its looks promise, I'd ruther have these keys between it and us—-eh? There's anuther squall brewin' out yonder. Come on, let's go ashore, lads."
Making in shoreward, the Arrow presently cast anchor off a shallow cove "inside" the nearest bar. All five boys got into the sloop's dory, and after landing the others on the beach, Hugh rowed back to the sloop to bring the captain, Norton and the guide ashore. When they landed, they discovered Billy and Alec, Chester and Mark engaged in examining a big battered tin box, locked, with its cover sealed up with black sealing wax, which they had found half buried in the sand.
"What is it? What have you got there?" Hugh asked quickly, running forward.
"It looks like part of Captain Kidd's buried treasure!" said Billy, whose eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
"Nothing of the sort!" declared matter-of-fact Chester. "It's probably a lot of old maps and charts."
"Let's open it and see," was Alec's advice.
But the captain interposed.
"Let it alone, boys," he said. "It's marked with a small initial 'B.'
That may stand for Bego or—-bait."