“Not a sign,” declared the commander. “Had men aloft and been swinging in circles ever since we got your message. Haven’t sighted a craft of any sort since daylight. Only thing we’ve seen was an old Dutch tramp over by Trade Wind Cay.”
Rawlins, who had just reached the deck, sprang forward.
“Dutch tramp!” he cried. “What did she look like? Did you board her?”
“Of course not!” replied Disbrow icily. “Why should we? Ordinary tramp painted pea-soup color with bands two blue and one yellow, on her funnel.”
“I’ll say she’s not an ordinary tramp!” exclaimed the diver. “If she is, what the blazes is she hangin’ around there for? She was there a week ago—we saw her—and Dutch tramps or any other tramps don’t hang around Trade Wind Cay for a week! Rotten luck you didn’t board her!”
“Humph!” snorted Disbrow. “I’d get myself in a pretty mess if I boarded every steamer I saw. It’s none of my business if a Dutchman wants to kill time cruising about here. The sea’s free.”
“Yes, and I’m beginning to think some naval men are blamed idiots!” cried Rawlins, overcome with excitement. “I know one that boarded a square-head fishing smack and didn’t think ’twas any of his business because she was a Bahaman schooner. Darned near finished us on account of it, too!”
The commander flushed scarlet. “If you’re going to insult me!” he began; but Mr. Pauling interposed.
“Here, here, boys!” he exclaimed. “Don’t get excited. We all make mistakes and we’re dealing with most elusive and resourceful scoundrels. Rawlins has a hunch of some sort, Disbrow, and his hunches are usually, right. Now what it is, Rawlins? The sooner we get to an understanding the quicker we can act.”
“Sorry, old man!” apologized the diver, extending his hand to Disbrow who instantly grasped it. “Was a bit jumpy, I guess. But that tramp’s got to be overhauled. I’ve an all-fired hunch she’s part of the game. They deserted a sub once and took to a schooner and I’ll bet my last dollar to a plugged cent that that tramp’s just waiting for ’em now.”