Harry now mounted to the pilot house roof and took the glasses.
"I know that chap," he cried. "Better starboard your helm and go to port of him. We don't want to get any closer to that chap."
"Who is it, Harry?" asked Jack.
"Little Simple Simon Sorefooted Carlos Madero at your service."
"He got run over once by getting in the way of this vessel. I wonder if he's trying it again," mused Jack, holding the Fortuna on her course. "We've got crew enough now so that we can mount guard over him day and night if we want to. Let's pick him up and see what he knows. We can easily tow his skiff along."
"Sure! Let's pick up a shark or two! Let's explode some dynamite in the cabin. Let's drill holes in the ship. Let's anything."
"Now don't get sarcastic, if you please. Madero didn't do all those things. He tried something once and didn't make it work."
"Yes, and he got a sore foot, too! He's out here for more."
Answering the hail from the Fortuna, Madero, for it was he, asked to be taken aboard. He seemed weak and unable to help himself. When his condition became apparent the boys were all sympathy. They quickly helped him over the rail and then took his boat in tow.
"What's on your mind, Madero?" laughed Jack. "How are you?"