“You wasted no time,” said Mr. Gray. “You took it for granted that you and the boys would go.”
“That’s Bill!” praised Tom. “My telegram told him enough to get him started. I thought I’d better break a trail—we seemed to be stuck down here in this old hotel.”
His comrades praised his idea of summoning their former comrade. The very next day Bill and Tom returned to the mine, found Henry Morgan and had a talk. Bill asked some pretty sharp questions, but “Hen” gave satisfying replies and Bill arranged with him to return to Mexico City with them at once. This he did.
It seemed no time at all until the trim, staunch cruiser Porto Bello was in harbor, with the chums, Bill and Henry aboard, well supplied. with gasoline, both in her tanks and in five gallon reserve cans, and with plenty of tinned food, as well as some arms and ammunition aboard. They waited only for Mr. Gray who had determined to become a passenger. He could explore the coast, he said, and if any real information could be gleaned he was determined to secure it. He had as much enthusiasm for his historical records as the chums had for Tom’s quest, or Henry Morgan and Bill for news of the mine—the one Henry’s unnamed friend called “The Golden Sun.”
“Anchor a-weigh!” cried Nicky, when Mr. Gray came aboard with clearance papers from the port authorities. “Man the capstan, me bully boys!”
“Man it yourself,” laughed Cliff, working with his chum at the small winch forward which drew the cable: they had been off on a trial spin to see that the engine worked perfectly, and had dropped anchor a little away from the wharves. “To be nearer being somewhere else,” as Nicky put it.
“Full speed ahead, Andy,” called Bill, already elected Captain by unanimous consent. The engineer, who accompanied the cruiser to help and to represent his employer, the boat’s owner, eased his throttle forward, and engaged the clutch sending the propeller around in the proper direction. The bow parted the waters of the bay, and with caps waving, and hurrah after hurrah, Tom, Nicky and Cliff stood on the after deck and watched Mexico’s humid, sweltering coastline drop away aft.
“Lay your course for the Golden Sun!” begged Nicky.
“And the mystery man of Hen-ry Mo-r-r-r-gan!” chanted Cliff.
“And news of Margery!” added Tom, soberly, but hopefully.