"Gerstein may get there first," suggested Dave.
"Suppose he does. He's got no ship to carry the treasure away in. I see possible fighting ahead if we run across Nesik and the Hankers, but we've got the upper hand of them. Dave, lad, take Stoodles down to see the native you brought here. Try to find out something definite about the hiding-place of the treasure, will you, Pat?"
"Shure, I will," declared Stoodles.
"Oh, the man will tell you freely--I know it from his gestures to me!" declared Dave. "He was very low last night, though. Come, Mr. Stoodles, I will take you to him, let him know that you are my friend, and the rest will be easy."
They went to the forecastle. The boatswain met them at the door of the little compartment that marked the hospital of the ship.
"Mr. Stoodles is to see the sick native, Mr. Drake," said Dave.
The boatswain looked very somber.
"Mr. Stoodles is too late," he pronounced solemnly.
"Too late?" echoed Dave.
"Yes; the poor fellow died an hour ago."