“We’ll have to cut out coffee altogether if we don’t sight something to-morrow,” warned Jack.
Toward evening they saw a sail in the distance. But night was coming on and the sail soon disappeared in the darkness, and they found themselves alone as before.
“Don’t look as if I was ever goin’ to see them thirteen rocks an’ ketch sight of the pirates’ gold,” murmured Ira Small, dolefully. For the time being his high spirits seemed to have deserted him.
“I should think you’d be awfully sleepy, Small,” remarked Jack. “Why don’t you turn in and see if you can’t get a good night’s sleep? You’ve had hardly a wink since the night before we left the Hildegarde.”
“Think I will turn in, if you fellows kin git along without me,” answered the old sailor. “If anything unusual turns up, jest call me,” and he retired to the cabin and was soon snoring lustily.
“He certainly is a character,” remarked Gif. “But I guess his heart is in the right place.”
“He certainly proved himself our friend,” returned Jack. “If it hadn’t been for him, we might still be aboard the schooner. It would have been useless for us to cut loose in the motor boat without the gasoline and the grub.”
“Do you think there is anything to his story about the thirteen rocks and the pirates’ gold?” questioned Andy. Tales of piratical treasure had always appealed to the fun-loving Rover.
“There may be something in it, Andy. Certainly the pirates existed. And if they got all the loot the books tell about, they must have either spent it or else hidden it somewhere.”
“Yes, but as far as I have ever heard, the great majority of the searches for pirates’ treasures have been dead failures,” broke in Spouter. “I know, only a few years ago, a company was organized up in our neighborhood to look for a treasure said to be buried off the coast of Brazil. The promoters wanted my father to take stock in the concern, but he refused. The crowd got together and went down to Brazil in a steamer and spent two or three months looking for the gold, but didn’t find a single doubloon.”