"That's it. I was asking your honor," said Stoodles innocently. "Of course ye have plans to assist the lad. I know the island. Wasn't I their king once on a time? Make me your confidant, captain dear. What's your plans?"
"I'll show those bloodthirsty villains soon," declared Broadbeam, shaking his ponderous fist at the island. "I'm going around to anchor in the cove at the northwest end of the island."
"I see," nodded Stoodles thoughtfully. "A foine spot. And then, captain?"
"Every man aboard armed to the teeth, and let those savages look out. My duty is first to my ship. When I have her safe at anchorage it's Dave Fearless, first, last, and all the time."
"Captain," observed Stoodles enthusiastically, "you're a jewel!"
Stoodles went apart by himself, smiling and apparently intensely satisfied. He seemed planning something all the rest of the time it took to go about one-third around the island.
The sheltered cove into which the Swallow finally ran was located at a remote and unfrequented part of the island.
It was here that on a former occasion a derelict had lain shut in, undiscovered for a long time, by great forests and guarded by steep cliffs towards the sea.
The ravages of a great cyclone were visible here and there as the Swallow neared its port. The steamer ran under a network of vines that hung like a curtain across the front of this singular cove.
The first thing done, once a permanent mooring was made, was to carry a portable forge ashore. Adams, the engineer, selected two of the crew who had some knowledge of blacksmithing.