“Well, what do we want, the earth?” demanded Dick as he examined the coin he held. “Look here fellows,” he added, “This gold piece is a queer sort of duck. It has Spanish lettering on it——”
“A doubloon, probably,” said Jack Benton. “And this coin I have is a French louis——”
“And mine’s a guinea,” broke in Tom with a chuckle. “These guys seem to have gathered their plunder from all parts of the world.”
“I guess it didn’t make much difference to them what nation they stole from,” Jack Benton agreed. “They played no favorites. But say, just listen to that storm, fellows,” he interrupted himself as the wind wailed wildly about the cave. “It’s worse than the gale that greeted us and drove us on the rocks.”
“Sure is a beauty,” said Steve. “Lucky we have a cave to live in. Can’t be blown down, at any rate.”
Phil moved across to the door of the cave and stood looking out into the hurricane.
“It must have been just such a storm,” he remarked softly, as though he were more than half speaking to himself, “in which the pirate ship foundered centuries ago. Seems kind of queer, someway.”
“What seems queer?” said Dick who had come to stand beside him.
“Why,” said Phil, still with that strange air of speaking to himself, “that there should be such a storm on the very day when we have broken into the hull of the dead ship. It’s uncanny——”
A frightened wail from the corner where Bimbo had taken refuge brought him up short and he faced about with a sheepish laugh.