“Yes, but that was a good many years ago,” answered Jack.
“I don’t care. I was reading in a newspaper only a short while ago about a hunt being made along the South American coast for a treasure said to have been secreted there by one of the notorious buccaneers.”
“Oh, we’ve all read such yarns,” put in Gif. “There may be some pirates’ gold somewhere. But I’ll wager it’s so well hidden it will never be brought to light. Why, folks have been digging for Captain Kidd’s gold ever since I can remember.”
“I wonder what he means by thirteen rocks?” mused Andy.
“There must be thirteen rocks around the place—maybe pointed ones,” said Jack.
“In that case, if I ever get down to the West Indies I’m going to keep my eyes open for the lucky thirteen,” grinned Randy.
The sea air made the boys drowsy, and although several of them thought to keep awake, almost before they knew it each of them was sound asleep. Nor did any of them rouse up until the golden sun was peeping up over the eastern rim of the ocean.
“Gosh, what a disagreeable smell around here!” muttered Gif, as he arose and stretched himself. “It makes my head ache.”
“That’s funny. I’ve got a headache myself,” replied Jack, who sat on the edge of one of the rough bunks, rubbing his eyes. “I feel just as if I’d been in a swing, or something like that.”