Frank turned his gaze upon Poole.

“You scoundrel!” he exclaimed. “We took none of that buried treasure. You recovered all of it. So you have sought to make trouble for us, sir? Well, your effort has proved a boomerang. Do you see yonder vessel? That is one of our cruisers, and I shall signal her and turn you over to her officers to be dealt with according to your just deserts.”

Poole was ghastly pale and trembled like an aspen.

“Have mercy!” he whined.

The Spanish officer bowed to the deck again, and made a move to the gangway.

“Adios, senor capitan,” he said. “I know in the largeness of your heart you have pardoned me.”

Frank smiled grimly and made no reply. He allowed the Spaniards to depart. A few moments later the Santa Maria was scampering for the Isle of Cuba with all speed.

But Poole had no thought of surrendering himself to the mercies of a naval tribunal.

He gave a sudden mad yell and ran along the deck.

“Stop him!” cried Frank.