“Rather I should have said two things,” Rawlins answered. “The first was the fact that there were rooms cut out of the rock and stairways cut from the rock leading up to an old fort or wall also cut from the solid rock. The second was that the place was inhabited by a sort of giant rat and that the men caught and ate them.”
“Might have been China!” laughed Mr. Pauling.
“Yes,” agreed Rawlins, “but it’s not. I know the place as well as I do my own island back in the Bahamas. There’s only one island in the West Indies that it could be. There aren’t many with ruins of forts cut from solid rock. I don’t know of another that has them and a turtle-shaped rock off the point, and I can swear there’s not another that has both those and the big rats as he calls them—the Jutias—and that’s a little island off Santo Domingo known as Trade Wind Cay.”
“Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson. “Are you sure of that?”
“I’ll stake my life on it,” replied Rawlins soberly. “I’ll bet, if we head for Trade Wind Cay, we’ll find their hang-out. And here’s another bet—or hunch, or whatever you want to call it. Smernoff says it never took over a day for the sub to go to the chief’s place and return. Now there’s no blamed bit of land within half a day’s run of that cay except Santo Domingo and it’s dollars to brass tacks the old High-Muck-a-Muck hangs out there. Mighty good place too—lot of it wild and uninhabited, plenty of caves, fine hidden harbors and bush everywhere.”
“Rawlins you should be in the Service!” declared Mr. Pauling enthusiastically. “You’ve the imagination, the perseverance, the energy and the logic. I believe you’re right. I’m with you for Trade Wind Cay.”
“Well I had a sort of an idea I was in the Service, just at present,” laughed Rawlins, “and if the old sub don’t bust or run aground or shake herself to pieces we’ll be within sight of that cay inside of three days.”
No further messages were heard that day and all through the night they kept steadily on. The last bit of land had dropped from sight and far off on the southern horizon a faint misty cloud hung which Rawlins and Sam both insisted was the higher mountain tops of Haiti or Santo Domingo. Then, just before noon, the man in the conning tower called down the speaking tube to those below.
“Sail ahead!” he announced. “Looks like a schooner and about three points off our port bow.”
Ordinarily the sighting of a schooner would have caused no interest or excitement and would merely have called for submergence until out of sight, but with the knowledge that the mysterious submarine was somewhere in the surrounding waters and remembering the strange disappearance of the schooner reported by Disbrow, those on board the submarine hurried on deck to have a look.