"I found it drifting loose a few hours ago," said Dave.
"That's likely enough," said Daley suspiciously, "but where was you waiting for such things to drift around loose?"
"I was floating on a piece of driftwood," explained Dave. "You know you people marooned us on the island."
"I didn't," declared Daley; "that was Nesik's work."
"You helped," said Dave, "and you've had nothing but bad luck since. Now, Mr. Daley, I'm going to tell you something. You think the Swallow was lost in the cyclone."
"Know it. Men, gold, and all."
"No," said Dave, watching his man closely to note the effect of his disclosures. "The Swallow was not lost at all."
Daley stared hard and incredulously at Dave.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Because I was aboard of her not twenty-four hours since. The truth is, in that cyclone she was driven ashore on the west island you speak about. There Captain Broadbeam and the rest of us discovered her. We found Mr. Drake, the boatswain; Bob Adams, the engineer, and Mike Conners, the cook, prisoners on board."