Even one sentence had visibly sapped his strength and the cook rested before continuing.
“They wanted to know our destination. When I wouldn’t tell them they beat me.”
Tim’s eyes blazed with anger. There was no question in his mind who the “they” Al was referring to meant. It was the boatload of ruffians he and Pat had seen rowing in from the open sea. Undoubtedly they were from the Iron Mate, Sladek’s ship.
“I went almost crazy with the pain.” There was a choked sob in the cook’s voice. “They burned the bottom of my feet with cigarettes.”
There was a long pause and Tim waited patiently, wondering whether Al Hardy had finally given away the secret of their destination.
“They were going to kill me,” the cook went on, each word an obvious effort. “Finally, finally I told them it was an island off the coast of Yucatan, but no one but the commander knew what one.”
“Did they believe you?” asked Tim.
“They must have. That’s all I remember until I came to in the hospital. I’m sorry I talked.”
“Don’t worry about that, Al,” said Tim, gripping the cook’s hand firmly. “Any of the rest of us would have talked a lot sooner. I’m going to leave you now. I’ve got to contact the S-18 with the seaplane in the morning. I’ve made arrangements for them to take good care of you here. By the time you’re well we’ll be on our way back and you’ll have a good share of the treasure.”
Before leaving the the floor, Tim stopped at the desk.