Noting the absence of Broome’s men from the decks of the Sea Eagle, Jim had quickly changed his plan. He had ordered his two oarsmen to row him to that vessel. On the deck he had found only the Swedes and their commander, Captain Luhrensen. Boarding the ship, Jim had said: “I am the owner of this boat.”
It was an astonishing declaration, but Jim drew from his pocket papers which bore out his assertion, and he soon won to his standard the ship-wrecked commander, and with him, of course, went his crew. At once the ship had been gotten under way. Broome and his crew were all on board the Marjorie. It was evident that Beauchamp and Broome and other officers were securely imprisoned in the Marjorie cabin while the sailors were discussing with more or less forceful animation their next move.
Jim, with the decks of his beloved Sea Eagle once more beneath his feet, had made all speed under sail and steam to the entrance of the harbor where lay the Storm King, and had come aboard to report his safety and the successful outcome of his venture.
One startling tale had scarcely been assimilated when another was offered for their consideration.
The chief of Rarihue stepped forward and embracing the professor, said: “You remember this morning I told you that the treasure for which you sought had gone? It is gone from the cave in which you hoped to find it. But I will tell you now, I am the present possessor.”
“Then I congratulate you most heartily,” responded the professor. “May you live long and enjoy it.”
The chief shook his head, smiling the while. “I may find use for a little of this wealth,” he said, “and I am going to ask you, my dear friend, to take it back with you.”
“I will most gladly do your bidding.”
“And fairly rewarded you shall be. I can trust you and I like the looks of your associates.” Saying this, he walked to the gunwale and called in their native tongue to the occupants in the boats.