Isle o' Dreams

CHAPTER IV

Mr. Peth measured the veranda with his long legs and disappeared into the bar, while Jarrow squeaked his way into the palms and velvet grandeur of the sala, waving away the boy who came to inquire about his baggage.

"Yes, sir," said Wilkins, rising from behind the railed desk.

"You got a man here named Locke," asserted Jarrow, seizing the railing as if to brace himself against a shock.

"Right-o," said Wilkins. "Name, please?" He reached for the room telephone.

Jarrow was taken aback at the thought of being so abruptly thrust before a stranger he could not see. He had no plan for a telephone conversation as preliminary to a meeting and was averse to having his name bandied about by the clerk.

"You can say," he suggested, "it's a friend of Captain Dinshaw's, who's come to have a word with him—strictly private."

Wilkins pressed a button, and after a few seconds announced: "Mr. Locke, there's a gentleman here to see you from Captain Dinshaw. He wants to speak to you privately."

"Put him on the wire," said Locke. "Hello! I guess you've got the wrong party."

"No, sir," said Jarrow. "I was sent to see you. I'm from Captain Dinshaw."

"Don't know him," said Locke. "What's it about?"

"The island," said Jarrow, still cautious.

"Island! Oh, yes, the old fellow with the picture. All right, come on up."

Jarrow was soon before the door of the Lockes' suite and was ushered into a room which overlooked the bay, the windows open and the awnings down. He saw a young woman seated before a small table covered with tea things, and a tall young man standing near by. Mr. Locke stood just inside the door, but what warmed Jarrow's heart and bolstered his courage was a picture of Dinshaw's island which lay on a divan. There was the proof that the old captain had talked with these people.

Locke regarded his visitor with a puzzled air, but concealed his surprise. The stranger seemed to him to be strangely furtive and sinister, standing in the half-light, ears twitching, a clipped skull thrust forward on a short neck like the head of a turtle pushing out from a shell.

"I didn't get your name, sir," said Locke, in a friendly way, to save his guest embarrassment.

"Jarrow's my name. I got a wreckin' business. You ask anybody in Manila about me."

"And you say Dinshaw sent you?"

"Yes, sir. I take it you've had a talk with him."

"So I have."

"Then it's all right. Understand he mentioned me."

"You are Captain Jarrow? And you have a schooner?" asked Trask.

"Jarrow!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Of course! Don't you remember, Dad? Captain Dinshaw told us about Captain Jarrow."

"Oh, yes, yes," said Locke. "You're the man he said would go to his island. This is my daughter, Miss Marjorie—and Mr. Trask."

Jarrow ducked his head. Locke had introduced the others more for the purpose of gaining time to study this hulking, limp-kneed man who stood before him like a gorilla crouched for a spring and squeezing a soft straw hat into a shapeless lump in his hands.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Locke, and took his hat. Jarrow allowed himself to sink carefully into a gold-backed chair of doubtful strength and capacity.

"Perhaps you'll take a cup of tea," suggested Marjorie.

"No, thanks, ma'am. I don't eat nothin' much between meals. See you've been buyin' some of the old cap'n's pictures. He's a oddity, but there's gold on that island of his, right enough."

"Think so?" asked Trask.

"Know so. Scads of it. He brung back samples in his pockets. I've told him time and time again I'd go to his island, and what's more, I would ha', only I don't own all my schooner. It's been busy up to now with gover'ment work—hay for the cavalry posts down south. But now I'm ready, and if I can arrange a charter, I'll cut the rate to the bone, just to help Dinshaw—say sixty-five a day, gold." He looked at Locke inquiringly.

"I don't know much about such things," said Locke, vaguely.

"Well, a hundred a day is the usual rate," went on Jarrow, "but I'll make it special just to help the old man."

"I hope you're well repaid," said Locke. "If there is gold——"

"Gold!" exclaimed Jarrow. "Mr. Locke, ye're in on a good thing, if you'll let me say a word about it."

"I'm a little bit mixed up on this thing," said Locke, with an amused smile at Trask. "You know more about the proposition than I do, captain. Of course, Captain Dinshaw talked with Mr. Trask——"

"I hope I ain't put my foot in anything," broke in Jarrow. "I thought from what Dinshaw said Mr. Trask here knew all about it."

"Mr. Trask knows as much about it as I do, and more," said Locke. "Say whatever you like."

"Then it's all right," said Jarrow, obviously relieved. "'Tain't a piece of business I'd want to tell Tom, Dick, and Harry, if I had the weather on it like you have. I'm above board in my dealin's. You ask anybody in Manila about Captain Jarrow, the wrecker. But I thought for a minute I'd let the cat out of the bag."

"No damage done," said Locke. "As I understand it, you intend to go to this island of Dinshaw's."

"We're so glad to hear it, Captain Jarrow," said Marjorie. "It will surely make the old man happy."

"Thank ye, ma'am. I want to kind o' apologize for jammin' myself in like this, but I'm a frank man."

Jarrow paused, and throwing one foot over a knee, stroked the seams of his new French shoes with the tips of his fingers.

"Of course," he resumed, "Captain Dinshaw and me, we're thick as three in a bed. Ask anybody in Manila if I ain't been doin' my best to go to his island. I've offered to take him to his island, time and time again, but he wouldn't hear it, 'cause he knew I was makin' money with the Nuestra—that's my schooner, the Nuestra Señora del Rosario—me and Peth, my mate, we own it with others. In the wreckin' business it's touch and go. You got to be on the spot, and there ain't been any too many wrecks out this way lately. Let me go away for a week or two on this island business, and I'd likely lose somethin' good. But with somebody to kind o' go in on the deal, I'd split even at sixty-five dollars a day. I'd be some out of pocket, if there wa'n't much gold there, but I look for findin' it in a big way. It's a open and shut proposition."

"It sounds interesting," said Locke, getting more puzzled as to why Jarrow should call on him to take him into his confidence regarding plans about Dinshaw's island.

"There's big money in it," said Jarrow.

"May I ask why you think so, Captain Jarrow?" inquired Trask.

Jarrow turned to Trask in surprise. The question was appallingly direct, and Trask's tone was crisp and business-like.

"I know it," said Jarrow, uncomfortably aware of being pinned down to definite information.

"But I don't understand why you should take the trouble to tell us about your proposed trip," said Locke.

"How?" Jarrow's head snapped up suddenly and his eyes opened in a wide stare at Locke.

"What is the purpose of this interview?" demanded Locke. "There seems to be some sort of mistake."

Jarrow put his foot down slowly and sucked his moustache in between his lips. His ears twitched and his head ducked forward as he made a swallowing movement with his throat.

"How's that again?" he whispered, as if he had lost his voice.

"From what you've said, captain, I gather you believe I have something to do with the matter of the island."

Jarrow blew his moustache and gave a suppressed sigh of agony.

"Why—why, Dinshaw—he told me you wanted me and my schooner to go to his island!"

Trask laughed outright in spite of his effort to keep still, and Marjorie gave an exclamation of amazement. Locke could only stare at Jarrow.

"Told you I wanted your schooner! He certainly is crazy! Most absurd thing I ever heard of!"

"Mr. Peth, my mate, he's below now," said Jarrow.

"Then you are going?" asked Trask.

"Am I goin'?" retorted Jarrow. "No! I can't go on my own hook. I thought you folks was goin'—that's what I'm here for."

"It's all a mistake," said Locke. "We had no intention of misleading the old man."

"It will be a terrible disappointment to him," said Marjorie. "It's a ghastly mistake if poor old Captain Dinshaw really believes we told him we'd go."

"We bought his picture out of charity," said Locke. "Mr. Trask here is a mining man, and was interested in his story, but we haven't any more idea of going to this gold island than we have of going to the moon. My daughter and I are leaving the day after to-morrow for Hong Kong to connect with the Pacific Mail. We were going this morning, but missed the Taming."

"This'll just about kill old man Dinshaw," said Jarrow.

"He's so pathetic," said Marjorie. "I'm sorry if we've done anything to disappoint him. I'll always feel guilty about it. Just what did he say, Captain Jarrow?"

"Why, ma'am, he comes runnin' down to the Cuartel not an hour ago, all excited up about you people. 'Jarrow,' he says to me, 'I've got a party who'll go to my island if they can git your schooner—and yours is the only one to be had for love or money. I know you'll lose on it, seein's you got a new gover'ment hay charter comin' your way, but can't you strain a p'int for an old friend? If you don't stand by me, the chance is gone.'

"'Cap'n Dinshaw,' says I to him, 'I'll stand by if I can be any help, lose money or no. If me and my schooner's what you need, why, she's lyin' off the breakwater, and I'm your man.' And Peth, my mate, he speaks up, and says to him: 'Dinny, don't you fret none, but leave it to Jarrow. He's the man to tie to if ye need help.'

"So we lays a course for up here. When he hears of this, it'll just about kill him dead, sure. Happened the same way once before, and he was laid up in the Civil Hospital for a month with brain fever. He ain't as strong now as he was then, neither. If I had the capital, I'd go in on my own, but I'm up to my ears in debt, and as I said, I'd just about split even at sixty-five dollars a day. But I can't go it alone. The old man he'll just fade away and die, if you don't mind my puttin' in my oar about it. When he gits these idees about somebody goin' to his island, and then it falls through, he moans and moans——"

"Oh, Dad, I wish something could be done!" cried Marjorie. "I'll never forgive myself if we go away from here and leave that old man grieving!" She looked at Trask and caught a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, I'll send him back to the States if you feel that way about it," said Locke.

"He won't go," said Jarrow. "We've all tried to send him home. I offered to buy his ticket some time back, but he's got this island on the brain."

"Where is the island?" asked Trask. "I understand it isn't far."

"Oh, up the coast a piece," said Jarrow. "Take a week, say, to go and come back."

"A week!" said Locke. "I had an idea it was a long way off."

"Shucks!" said Jarrow. "No great shakes of a ways. With favourin' winds, a week would do it easy. Of course, if a man wanted to spend a lot of time there, diggin' around, that's a cat of another colour. But with a couple of days to look the place over in good shape, ten days would do it easy."

"Dad, why can't we go?" asked Marjorie. "Just to make Dinshaw happy! You said I might go any place I wanted to on this trip."

"You mean to tell me you want to go schoonering around out in this country, Marge?" Locke was astounded.

"It would be great fun."

"Great guns!" said Locke. "Don't you know a schooner isn't what a liner is? You can't have suites and stewards and fancy things to eat."

"You'll find it comfortable enough on the Nuestra," said Jarrow, his hopes rising. "A good Chink cook, a coloured steward, all hands a room to theirselves. All Cap'n Dinshaw needs is a mouthful of sea-air an' a deck under his feet. There's a whallopin' lot of gold there, too, or I miss stays. I know nobody believes him, but they didn't believe Columbus. I can't guarantee——"

"I'll go," said Trask, "if we can make the right sort of a deal."

"If you go, I'm in on it," declared Locke.

"Oh, Dad, you're a brick! I knew you'd go!"

Trask took Locke aside, to confer privately. "I want you to come, Mr. Locke," he said, "but I don't want to have you stand an expense which may be a dead loss——"

"I won't go unless I can stand half," said Locke.

"Very well, but I'd rather not appear in the matter as the leader, because if I did, the newspapers would find out who I am and make it appear that my company was backing Dinshaw. I haven't authority to go on this trip, and if it turned out badly, a failure would be credited against the Consolidated, and it's a very conservative company. Here's a thousand dollars. Will you draw checks against it at your bank? And I'll go as your guest?"

"Certainly," said Locke. "I have an account current at the Chinese bank, which was to be transferred to Hong Kong, but I'll hold it here."

"All right. You give Jarrow a check as an advance and to buy supplies. We'll close the deal right now."

CHAPTER V

"Lied!" whispered Peth.

"They never told him they wanted us," continued Jarrow, with due caution, glancing about the deserted bar. "But I put it through. They're swells and no mistake."

"Then it's a go, skipper?"

"We get out in the morning. It's to be quiet. We clear for Vigan with passengers. Take rock ballast this afternoon, and git stores aboard. Locke give me free rein for everything needed, and I'm to draw on him at the Hong Kong-Shanghai bank. We ought to clean up. Pipe down, here's the dude clerk."

"You saw Mr. Locke?" asked Wilkins, with a genial air, as he came in from the office, consumed with curiosity.

"Oh, yes," said Jarrow. "He's a nice man."

"Raw-ther," said Wilkins.

"I hear he's rich," said Jarrow.

Wilkins smiled knowingly. "Millions," he said.

Peth looked at Jarrow quickly, and whistled faintly through his teeth.

"I guess you know me," said Jarrow. "I been up here a few times now and then on business."

"You're a Manila man, aren't you?" asked Wilkins. "I don't place your name but your face is familiar."

"I'm Captain Jarrow, head of the Inter-Island Wreckin' Company. I got a big business, in a way. Everybody knows me in my line. I'm the man who done the divin' for the gover'ment."

"Oh, yes," said Wilkins.

"I'd like for you to say a good word for me, if it falls your way, to this Mr. Locke—and Trask."

"Sure," said Wilkins.

"Who does this Mr. Trask happen to be?" asked Jarrow.

"Mining man," said Wilkins.

"Oh."

"Yes, he was talking with Looney Dinshaw. Seems he came out here from China to look after the island. I knew him down in Colombo, when I managed a hotel."

"Lookin' for the island!" exclaimed Jarrow. "That's news to me."

"I thought maybe that's why you called," said Wilkins.

"Well, maybe I didn't and maybe I did. I have to keep a closed mouth. But if you'll say a word for me to these people—reliable and all that—I may put somethin' your way sometime."

"I'll have a gin," said Peth.

"Glad to do what I can, sir," said Wilkins. "Support home industry, that's always been my motto. If I'm asked, I'll say the right sort of thing."

"Good for you," said Jarrow. "This is Mr. Peth, my mate. We got to slide," and waving his hand at Wilkins, Jarrow walked toward the veranda while Peth gulped his gin and trailed after him with alacrity.

The mate overtook the captain as the latter headed across the Luneta toward Malecon Drive, where the great king palms offered shade from the blinding sunlight.

Jarrow marched along, with head down, staring at the gravel. He gave no heed to Peth, who overtook him and fell in beside him.

"Millions," said Peth, presently.

"You ain't got the brains of a goose, Peth."

"What's the row?" demanded Peth.

"Can't you hear millions spoke of without actin' like a blasted whistlin' buoy?" demanded Jarrow, savagely.

"I was took aback," said Peth.

"Took aback! This ain't no business for a man who's got to blow off steam in public the minute he sniffs somethin' good! Things like that might bust up the whole business—and sixty a day in it!"

"I don't see what I done, skipper," whined Peth.

"You done enough. Couldn't you see what I was drivin' at? You ain't got half an eye. That dude clerk, he can fix us solid with them people. What if he got an idea we was out to make money off 'em? This Locke'll go askin' that feller, so I had to prime him. Lucky he didn't notice your fidgets when he spoke of millions."

"You go make a mountain out of it," said Peth, as they turned into the Malecon and proceeded toward the river.

"Peth, you better not cross the bows of these people till we're ready for sea."

Peth turned his sharp face toward the captain and looked down on him with searching eyes, a trifle startled. He turned away and spat viciously. "I won't bite 'em," he growled.

"They might bite you. We can't reckon on what these swells'll cotton to in a deal like this."

"Aint I big enough dude?"

"You ain't got no diplomacy."

Peth gritted his teeth gently. "Don't ye want me for mate?" he demanded, with a poor attempt to conceal his wrath.

"What's the matter of you?" asked Jarrow, looking at him in surprise.

"You that's sayin' it. You talk like I'm a horned toad or somethin', to set folks on the run the minute they clap eyes on me."

"Have sense," cautioned Jarrow. "We got a lot to do come sundown. Have sense. I'm the brain's, ain't I?"

"So you say, cap'n."

"I got my own meanin's. What if this Trask and the girl come down aboard this evenin' to look things over, and they don't like your looks first off?"

"What's my looks got to do with it? Ain't I dressed up?"

"Yes, good enough for me, but maybe not for them. They'll put a hole in our copper plates, charter or no charter, if they take a dislike to you. We can't take no chances."

"Might as well see me first as last."

"Oh, no. Plenty of reasons for 'em comin' about on the whole business and leavin' us high and dry, except for the advance. They hop aboard a liner—what then?"

"Got to see me some time."

"Sure! Once to sea, they'll take things as they find 'em. But it's touch and go with us until we clear the bay, and don't forget that for a minute."

"What they want? Sody water gents for a crew?"

"Whatever they want, they'll have it, them swells."

"Then I ain't gallant enough for the likes o' you and this charter party, I take it," said Peth, his anger rising.

"I ain't findin' no fault with you myself, Peth. All I'm gallied about is what the others'll think. You're goin' mate, of course——"

"Thanks," said Peth, curtly. "You talk like I was ship's boy, not owner of an eighth of the Nuestra. Who helped you salve her? Who like to broke his back doin' of it? Peth did, that's who. Now he ain't good enough, once ye make fast to a millionaire."

"You talk like an old mitten with the thumb brailed up," said Jarrow.

"Where was this millionaire feller when ye wanted a man to stand by and raise the Nuestra, I'd like——?"

"Belay that!" said Jarrow. "I'm talkin' for yer own good. There's money in this cruise for both of us. I got my own reasons, and that's enough. I'd look smart cuttin' you out of things, wouldn't I?"

"Well, all I can say, cap'n, ye don't need to take me mate if ye don't want to."

"Steady as she goes," said Jarrow, taking him by his arm. "You're mate, and I never had it my mind ye wouldn't go mate."

"All right, all right," growled Peth, shaking himself free. "I ain't goin' to fuss none. I don't want to be gammin' around with swells, no ways. But if I thought ye wanted to beach me——"

"Oh, git that out of yer head. You've got to git the crew together and I got to see Prayerful Jones afore Dinshaw gits back. Then I'll git the old man aboard and keep his jaw close to the wind. We got to run this thing on some basis. You'll find Doc Bird cookin' in a civilian mess out Malate way. We got to have him."

"Will Doc cut loose from a shore berth for what looks like a v'yage to Vigan?"

"He'll cut loose from anything if he knows I want him," said Jarrow, in a tone significant of no doubts about the matter. "He's to be aboard in the mornin'—to-night would be better. When we git our ballast we'll lay out in the stream again. It's safer from talk."

"How safer?"

"From folks nosin' around. We can't have none of the crew hangin' 'longshore, ginnin' up. I'll fix the clearance myself, and see the commissioner."

"But I'm to have who I want for'ard," said Peth.

"That's it. You know who we want."

They hailed a banca and were rowed across the river, making a landing over a tier of cascos.

"I'll go over to the Cuartel and pass the word for the men and do a little lookin' myself," said Peth.

"Keep Dinshaw there half an hour," suggested Jarrow.

Peth looked at him suspiciously.

"What's the game?"

"Never mind me or the game."

"I seem to be kind o' out on the aidge o' things," growled the mate.

"You keep Dinshaw from shootin' off his face, that's all you got to do, and don't let Van know how things swung at the Bay View. I'm goin' to keep this business under gratin's."

"You don't need to fret," said Peth. "I ain't fixin' to break nothin' out," and he tracked away to the Cuartel, weaving in and out among the litter of goods on the Mole.

Jarrow stood and watched him disappear into the Cuartel. "I ain't never had no luck with him," he remarked. "I hope he breaks his fool neck, that's what I hope. He'll mess things up for me yit."

CHAPTER VI

"Never gon' be no readier, sir," said the steward, who looked smart in a suit of white and a jaunty cap. Instead of a shirt, he wore a gaudy cotton sweater with stripes running athwart his body, red and blue, after the manner of a convict's clothes.

"Then we're off," said Locke, as he helped Marjorie aboard, while Trask superintended the job of getting their bags aboard, at which task the native crew of the tug assisted the steward.

In a minute they were heading down the river. As they cleared the old transport docks they made out the Nuestra well off the breakwater, her brown, bare masts rising like spires from her black hull, and the morning sun glinting from a strip of brass on her taffrail. They could see busy figures aboard, and as they drew nearer Captain Jarrow appeared on the poop-deck smoking a cigar. He was all in white, his queer cockle-shell straw hat fastened to a button of his coat by a cord.

They had visited the schooner the night before, under the pilotage of Jarrow, before Locke had signed the agreement which was practically a charter, at sixty dollars a day. She had six rooms in her main cabin in addition to the galley and lazarette, and while they were small, they were comfortable enough and satisfactory.

No one was aboard during the brief visit, but Mr. Bevins, the second mate, and one man of the crew. Bevins's manners were ingratiating and he wore a constant smile, due more to some defect of his facial muscles than chronic geniality. The other man was a big fellow with much tattooing on his hands and wrists. Captain Jarrow summoned him to the cabin door and introduced him as "Shope, who was to go b'sun."

"There's Captain Dinshaw!" cried Marjorie, as the patron steered the tug to come alongside.

Dinshaw had popped up over the starboard bulwark, and watched the tug maneuver with critical eye.

"And all dressed up," said Trask, smiling, as he observed that Dinshaw wore a white suit and sported an official-looking cap with a white top.

"The old man shore thinks he's the skipper," remarked Doc Bird.

"How's that?" asked Locke.

"He's a-bossin' everybody," replied the steward. "Thinks he's in his old brig what he lost on his island."

"The old dear!" said Marjorie. "Isn't he pathetic? He looks thoroughly happy!"

Dinshaw stood with his hands on the bulwark, and looked down at the tug, his head askew like an observant fowl.

"Don't scratch the paint!" he shouted to the patron of the tug. "Mind what ye're at!"

"Paint!" laughed Locke. "Couldn't hurt that paint with a crowbar."

"Glad to see ye in good time, Mr. Locke," called Jarrow, and then stepped back to escape the smoke from the tug's funnel, calling to Peth to see that the ladder was put over.

After a deal of fussing and bawling on the part of the tug's crew, she was nestled alongside the schooner, and Jarrow was at the rail to assist them over the side.

"I told ye I'd go," said Dinshaw, proudly, taking off his cap to Marjorie as she jumped down to the deck. "This lady knows, and she wanted to go to my island. Thank ye, ma'am! Good mornin'."

"Indeed I do want to go," laughed Marjorie. "And I hope we'll find your island, too, captain."

"Thank ye, ma'am. We'll find it right enough," and with a hasty bow he waddled forward importantly, to oversee the getting of the anchor and the passing of the towing hawser.

But the tug remained alongside after Locke and Trask had climbed over into the waist and the baggage was transferred by Doc Bird.

"Oh," said Jarrow, as the patron mounted the ladder and grinned at them, hat in hand, "this boy wants his towage."

"How much?" asked Locke, taking out a large roll of yellow American bills.

"I'd give him a check," advised Jarrow, "if you've got your book."

"All right," said Locke, and he followed Jarrow into the cabin while Trask and Marjorie went to the poop-deck. The Nuestra looked clean as a pin and fresh as a maker's model. Her decks had been scrubbed until the caulking in the seams looked like lines of black paint on old ivory. Her standing rigging had been newly tarred, her bright work polished, and the water casks lashed in the waist had their hoops painted a bright yellow, not yet dry. New hemp hung in the belaying pins. The roof of the cabin, covered by a tarpaulin, gleamed with oil and yellow paint. She had been scrubbed and freshened until she had quite the aspect of a yacht.

"This beats waiting around Hong Kong," said Marjorie, as they stood looking forward. She looked quite nautical in a suit of white duck and a yachting cap pinned to her flaxen hair. Trask thought she appeared entrancingly healthy and "out of doors."

"It's going to be a jolly fine trip," said Trask. "I hope you'll enjoy it one hundredth as much as I do."

"But gold-mine hunting is no novelty to you," she said.

"It's the first time I've actually gone to sea in search of a gold mine. And there are other reasons which make this trip unique."

"You are absurdly reticent, Mr. Trask."

"Under the circumstances it would be unfair to state the facts in their blunt simplicity," he retorted, with a smile.

"You mean father and me?"

"Mostly you," and he moved forward abruptly to tell Doc Bird to put his bags in his room.

Locke and Jarrow came out of the main cabin and paid off the patron of the tug.

"Well, we're off," said Locke, coming aft, as Jarrow went forward to oversee the getting of the anchor and the passing of the hawser. Bevins came aft presently and took the wheel, and in a few minutes the Nuestra started down the bay at the end of her leash.

Well under way, Jarrow called Peth to the main cabin and introduced him to Marjorie, Locke, and Trask, who had been summoned below for the assignment of their rooms.

Peth stood in the doorway and bowed, looking quite smart and respectable in clean dungarees, and though he said nothing but "How de do," he gave the impression of affability mixed with shyness. He missed no detail of Trask's clothing, and seemed to measure the young man's strength as he looked him up and down.

"Now, Miss Locke, you'll have this room aft, to port, next is Mr. Locke, and then Mr. Trask. Then comes the cabin stores. I'll be aft to starboard, Mr. Peth and Captain Dinshaw next, the cook and the steward, and the galley——"

"If ye don't mind, cap'n," interrupted Peth, "I'd not want to bunk with the old man. I got to be up and around nights."

"All right," said Jarrow. "There are two bunks in Mr. Trask's room here. Maybe you wouldn't find it out of the way if Mr. Peth took the lower?"

"Not at all," said Trask. "I'll sleep soundly enough."

"My gear's in there now," said Peth, and he went out on deck.

"I'd git my stuff all opened up and stowed while we're in the bay," suggested Jarrow. "There may be a swell on outside, and then it's goin' to be hot below as the sun climbs. Tom! How's that coffee comin' on?"

The fat Chinese cook looked out from the galley, a white cap on his head and an apron tied about him. He grinned pleasantly, and replied that the coffee was on the fire.

"We had breakfast," said Locke.

"I'd take a nip of coffee," said Jarrow. "Now then, here's Doc Bird to help open your gear. Anything you want, ask for it, and you, Doc, keep an eye out to make all hands comfortable. I got to go up now."

Trask followed the captain up the companion and left Marjorie and her father below, until he was called to have his coffee. When they went on deck again Corregidor Island was astern, rising out of the channel like a derelict battleship.

To starboard, close aboard beyond the stretch of sun-dazzled sea, was the coast of Bataan, with the brown fuzzy mountains behind Mariveles shouldering into the sky. Point Luzon marked the limit of the land over the starboard bow, and on the port side the shining China Sea reached away to the horizon.

The jib and foresail were already set although the tug had not cast off. Soon they began to fill, and as Peth bawled to the tug, the hawser was dropped, and tooting a farewell, the little boat swung in a wide arc and headed back for Manila.

Peth came aft and routed Doc Bird from under the mainsail boom where the steward sat peeling potatoes. Dinshaw kept moving about, repeating the orders of the mate, or talking to himself.

The crew were all white, in accordance with the orders of Locke, who had declared that he did not want to undertake the voyage with natives forward.

The breeze from landward died as the main was being set, and the Nuestra began to roll gently as she fell off. For a few minutes she threatened to follow the tug back to Manila, with many lurches and angry snappings of blocks.

"We'll git a clinkin' good breeze from the south'ard when we're off the land," said Jarrow, glancing aloft to the windvane on the mizzen truck. It was flopping about like a dead fish on a gaff.

Before long the foresail began to fret its sheets, and Bevins got her head to seaward. Then there came from astern a hot, puffy breeze, and the schooner stood out on a port tack, curvetting prettily as her sails were trimmed and filled.

One of the crew, hailed as Pennock, now came aft and took the wheel, and Bevins went forward. Captain Dinshaw went into the cabin, and looking down, Trask could see him bent over the table, sucking a stub of a pencil and studying a sheet of paper.

"What's the bearin' and distance of Point Luzon?" he called up the companion.

Jarrow looked at Locke and smiled.

"Northwest, five miles," called Jarrow, after a look at the compass and the land.

"What course ye steerin'?"

"Nor'wes'bywes'."

"Variation, one degree east," remarked Dinshaw, and went back to his figuring, talking to himself and scratching his head. From his conduct since sailing it was obvious that he intended to hold himself aloof from the rest of the party.

"Thinks he's navigatin'," whispered Jarrow, with a wink to Trask.

"He looks a lot better than he did," said Locke. "Has more colour and walks with more vigour."

"Good eatin'," said Jarrow. "He perked right up the minute he come aboard. Acts like he's master. Don't do no harm, only Mr. Peth gits rubbed the wrong way sometimes. I say, if the old man gits any fun out of thinkin' it's his own schooner, what's the odds?"

"How did you come out on getting anything certain about the position of his island?" asked Locke. "From what you said last night it was a sure thing."

"Oh, we know where we're goin' right enough," said Jarrow.

"Then he's given you some more data?"

"We ain't goin' on his say-so. He give me the leaf out of his old log, with his noon position the day before he was lifted off his course by the typhoon."

"Is that enough?"

"We ought to run slap into his island. It's one of the Capones, off the Zambales coast. There's a whole flock of 'em, but the one I figure on stands out from the rest, from what I've worked."

"Wilkins, at the hotel, was telling me the geodetic people couldn't find the island."

"Wilkins?" Jarrow turned and looked at Locke intently. "Oh, yes. Did he say anything about me?"

"Yes, he spoke very highly of you."

"Well, it's this way," said Jarrow, after a thoughtful pause. "The old man didn't give 'em the right position. He said he'd piled up near one of the Sisters, just to the south'ard of the Little Sister, to be exact. But that's more'n sixty miles north of where the Wetherall struck. Ye see, the old man didn't want nobody to find the island if he couldn't go himself. But he's all right now."

Peth came up the weather side of the poop, and seeing the trio with the captain, turned abruptly to go forward again.

"Did you want to see me, Mr. Peth?" called Jarrow.

The mate stopped, and pushing his cap to the back of his head, grumbled an assent.

"What about?" asked Jarrow, leaning his elbows on the top of the cabin trunk.

"I wanted to speak private," said Peth, grumblingly.

"Well, sing out," said Jarrow.

"Thought I'd speak to ye about where I'd bunk, sir," said Peth.

"Didn't we settle that?" demanded Jarrow, with considerable surprise.

"Not to my tastes," said the mate.

"What's the trouble?"

"I thought I'd take my gear out, if it's all the same to you, sir."

"Out where?"

"Out of that room, sir."

"Where'd ye want to bunk?"

"I thought I'd bunk for'ard. Bevins is with the men——"

"Well, you're the mate," said Jarrow. "Ye don't want to be with the crew, do ye?"

"I thought mebbe if I moved for'ard I wouldn't be in the way."

"Nobody's said anything 'bout ye bein' in the way," said Jarrow, with rising temper.

"I'd be a heap more comfortable, sir," insisted Peth.

"I won't be at all disturbed," said Trask, getting out of his deck chair so that he could see Peth.

"I reckon I'd rather be for'ard," repeated the mate, doggedly.

Captain Dinshaw came up through the companion, and started toward Peth, glaring at the mate.

"What's this? What's this?" cried Dinshaw.

"Better keep quiet, sir, and let me handle it," said Jarrow in a low tone. Then to Peth: "If ye think ye'll be more comfortable for'ard, Peth, why, that's your lookout. We'll let it stand that way till we talk it over and——"

"Bad for discipline to have the mate for'ard with the crew," shouted Dinshaw. "Ye'll stay with the afterguard, Mr. Peth. I'm master here. That's all."

"Who is skipper, anyhow?" demanded Peth.

"I'm skipper," said Jarrow. "No use of gittin' excited up this way. Captain Dinshaw, ye'll please me if ye go below. Now we'll go for'ard and talk this over, Mr. Peth. I won't have no disputin' aboard me." He hurried after Peth, and they went forward of the foremast, talking in low tones.

"Captain Dinshaw!" said Locke, as the old man started to descend the stairs to the cabin.

"Dad!" warned Marjorie. "Don't hurt his feelings."

"Yes, sir," said Dinshaw.

"Don't you want to go to your island?" asked Locke, gently.

"Yes, sir."

"Then we can't have this sort of thing, or I'll turn back to Manila. Captain Jarrow is in command."

"I know now, sir," said Dinshaw, rubbing his forehead with his hand, as if to brush away something which affected his vision. "It's all clear in my head, sir—I git kind o' dreamy, sir."

"All right," said Locke. "You'd better go down and keep out of the sun. It's all right this time, but you know we must not have a division of authority. Captain Jarrow is master."

"Very good, sir." And Dinshaw, somewhat crestfallen, went below.

"I merely wanted to take a hand in things," said Locke. "Better for me to chip the old man and keep him quiet than for Jarrow to give him fits."

"And I'm as well satisfied that Mr. Peth is going to live in the forecastle, if that's a measure of his temper," said Trask, who was more annoyed by the mate's request than he allowed the Lockes to see.

"I didn't like his looks from the first," said Marjorie.

"Oh, things'll get shaken down," said Locke. "But I'll give Jarrow to understand that we don't want to hear any more quarrels."

Trask and Marjorie left their chairs on the lee side of the poop, and leaned against the rail, the better to see what was taking place forward, where they could hear Jarrow and Peth in quiet argument. From their gestures it was plain that in spite of Jarrow's pleas Peth was still obdurate.

Pennock, the man at the wheel, gave no sign that he had heard any of the conversation aft, but stared over the top of the cabin trunk, glancing aloft now and then at the sails, and watching the compass. The crew were busy wetting down the decks, having swept them after clearing a litter of rope and boxes.

Soon Captain Jarrow came back, looking red and flustered, his cigar out and badly chewed. He made an attempt to light it, but gave up the attempt and threw it over the side.

"I'm sorry to see this happen, Mr. Locke," said Jarrow finally, as if he felt that he must say something to restore a pleasant status.

"You know I've half a mind to put back to Manila and throw him ashore," said Locke, severely. "We're here for pleasure, Captain Jarrow, and we can't have any such scenes. My daughter's worried."

"Oh, Mr Peth's all right," said Jarrow. "His bark's worse'n his bite. He feels a little awkward with you folks aboard, that's all. It was the old man scraped him."

"I've already chipped the old man about it," said Locke. "I wish you'd let the matter drop. What did Mr. Peth decide to do?"

"He's set on bunkin' with the men," said Jarrow.

"All right, then, he can mess with the men," said Locke. "We won't have him aft at all."

"All right," said Jarrow, and fell to pacing the weather side of the poop, his hands clasped behind his back.

In a few minutes Peth came clumping down the waist and, calling two of the crew, went into the main cabin. There was a banging of doors, heard above the clatter of Shanghai Tom's chopping tray, and then Peth went forward, carrying clothes under both arms, followed by two men with his sea-chest.

The schooner was bowling along now at a good rate, marching away from the land steadily, and making little leeway. Trask went below, ostensibly to have his bag unpacked, but really to have a talk with Doc Bird. Also, he had an automatic pistol which he thought he would get out and clean. He suspected that it would do no harm to have it known that there were weapons among the "passengers."

CHAPTER VII

"You're new to the schooner, aren't you?" asked Trask.

"Yassir. I jus' shipped fo' the roun' trip."

"How long have you known Mr. Peth?" Trask kept his voice low, and bent down to Doc.

"Yassir. I know Mr. Peth. I know him fo' a long time."

"Have you sailed with him before?"

"Yassir. I been along with Cap'n Jarrow an' Mr. Peth off an' on six years. Got a key fo' this hyar satchel?"

"It isn't locked. Just press the lock to the left."

"You mighty ca'less with yo' possessions," said Doc with a chuckle.

"What sort of a man is Mr. Peth?"

"Catch me with my stuff sailin' around loose. Some o' these hyar native trash go'n walk off wid you, bag an' baggage, if you don' watch out, man."

"Why do you suppose Mr. Peth wanted to move out of here?"

"Oh, he's just kind o' techy."

"How do you mean?"

"Kind o' uppish. He don' git along wid nobody, nohow, Mr. Peth don't."

"He's been with Captain Jarrow a long time, hasn't he?"

Doc turned his head sidewise and looked at Trask, and then looked out into the main cabin, as if to make sure no one was listening before he went on.

"A lion an' a lamb," he said, in a scared whisper.

"And Peth's the lion?"

"Yassir, you got it. Peth, he'd fight with his own gran'mother, that man. Argue en argue en argue. He ain't fixin' to hurt nobody when he talks, but when he stops talkin'—excuse me!"

"What does he do when he stops talking?"

"If ol' Doc Bird's on the lan'scape, he hunts a hole an' he crawls in when Mr. Peth he begins to act up."

"You mean you're afraid of him?"

"Not exac'ly what you'd go an' call 'fraid, but I don' take no chances." He chuckled again, and wagged his head. He could not manipulate the lock to get the bag open, and Trask reached down and showed him how it was done.

"Then you consider Mr. Peth a dangerous man?"

"He sho' is."

"How is he dangerous?"

"Well, Mr. Trask, I don' lak' to go an' say nothin' agin a man, 'specially when he's matin' round a boat what I'm in."

"Oh, I suppose he's rough with a sailor if it suits his fancy," said Trask, convinced now that Doc was merely making talk, and telling a yarn simply to impress him.

"He wouldn't look twice to hang somethin' on a man's haid, Mr. Peth wouldn't. I done saw him stab a man once, not no sailorman, neither, stab him right in the back o' the neck with one o' these hyar Sweden knives with a ring on the handle. He was a planter down Zamboanga way, an' a genelman like you, in white clothes. He come sassin' round Mr. Peth on the pier. He won't sass 'round no mo', mos' certain."

"Fol-de-rol," said Trask. "You're trying to make him out a bad man. I want to know something about him."

"Ain't I tellin' of ye?" asked Doc. "Who all can tell ye, if I don'? Reckon that Zamboanga planter's gwine come back to life jes' fo' talkin' purposes, Mr. Trask?"

"But he and Captain Jarrow must get along if they've been together for several years."

"Git along, man! Them two don' git along, not the way we-all say it. Mr. Peth an' de cap'n? Huh! Them two git along smooth as a houn' dawg in a brier patch."

"They quarrel a lot, eh?"

"Fight ain' no name fer it. Mr. Peth he owns part of this hyar schooner, an' Cap'n Jarrow he wants fer to git him out. I look for him to drap Mr. Peth over the side some fine night—if Mr. Peth don' drap him fust."

"Then that's why Mr. Peth didn't want to sleep aft here?"

"Mos' doubtless. He pick up his traps an' go. Mr. Peth he done ship de crew. Yo' don' reckon he picked out Cap'n Jarrow's Sunday friends, does ye? No, suh. Mr. Peth, he knows what he's a-doin' of. He looks to be with his own friends when he goes for'ard."

"Well, that's a nice arrangement, to have the mate in with the crew and opposed to the captain."

"Won't do no harm thataway," said Doc with much assurance.

"Why not?"

"I reckon Cap'n Jarrow's got some friends along."

"I suppose you side with the captain, eh?"

"I mos' certain do. Old Doc Bird knows whar his bread is buttered, an' he keeps right close alongside de skipper."

"Mr. Peth knows that?"

"Mr. Peth never gits no chance to fergit it. An' the cook, he ain' got no use fo' Mr. Peth."

"I see."

"He better not go argufyin' with Shanghai Tom."

"Why not? What could the cook do?"

"Do?" Doc looked up and rolled his eyes, listened a second to make sure the cook was busy in the galley, and then went on: "Do? He'd let a meat axe in him. Yo' jes' want to stand clear if yo' see Mr. Peth an' Tom lookin' crossways at each other. My goodness, Mr. Trask, yo' sho' got a powerful lot of stuff in this grip-sack!"

"Yes, it's tightly packed. Take the stuff out and put it in the upper bunk. I'll use the lower. So Peth and Jarrow fight. Do you mean to tell me there's always fighting? That it amounts to anything more than arguments?"

"Fight! Lord-amighty! Them two! They'd rather fight en a yaller dawg likes fo' to worry a hambone. Not out an' out strakin', but jes' kind o' pickin' en a pickin'; insultin' like. But Mr. Peth he's makin' to do somebody hurt some time."

"Let 'em fight," said Trask, and he began to help Doc hand out the clothing from the bag which the steward stowed above. When the bag was partly empty Trask opened a leather pocket that was fitted to one of the compartments. He gave an exclamation of surprise as he found it empty. It was in this pocket that his automatic revolver was ordinarily carried.

"What's the matter?" asked Doc.

"Oh, nothing. I've misplaced something, that's all."

"Yo' don' reckon Mr. Locke'll go an' git skeered 'count o' Mr. Peth's carryin' on, does ye?"

"I don't believe anybody in this party is very scared of Mr. Peth."

"Now, Miss Locke, she's a powerful nice lady. I knows quality folks the minute I comes across 'em. Now yo', Mr. Trask, is all off yo' cou'se."

"What do you mean?"

"Yo' all ain' no business fo' mixin' in with a ship full o' low-down rakin's an' scrapin's like we got aboard hyar."

"You mean Captain Jarrow and Mr. Peth?"

"Crew," said Doc.

"What about the crew?"

"Bad lot."

"You mean the crew can't be trusted?"

"Honest enough, sho'ly, but they ain't in yo' all's set. Now I know quality folks, an' when I sot eyes on yo' all, I like fo' to throwed a fit. Huh! 'Ristocrats ain' no business hoppin' along in a boat like this. I go fo' to know 'ristocrats when I sees 'em. I was a pantry man in a Suezer."

"But this isn't any tea-party to which the crew are invited."

"Huh! Don' yo' go fo' to fool yo' self."

"Oh, fiddlesticks!" said Trask. "What are you trying to do? Make me afraid of everybody in the schooner?"

Doc scratched his woolly head and rolled his eyes.

"I ain't got nothin' mo' fo' to say," he declared, with an air of mystery.

Doc was getting a trifle too chummy to suit Trask, and he thought it high time to bring the discussion to a close. While he felt Doc might be valuable as a friend and an ally, the garrulous steward might prove to be dangerous as a gossip. Trask feared that he had made a mistake by discussing the ship's affairs with him, so he gave the black man a generous tip and dismissed him with a caution against repeating anything that had been said.

"If yo' go to need any advice, Mr. Trask, jes' yo' call on me," he whispered as he went out. "I don't let nothin' what might come in handy slip by me."

"Thanks," said Trask, who realized that this was a direct offer to turn spy against Captain Jarrow and Peth. He did not care to enter into any sort of an arrangement yet felt that it would be wise to retain friendly relations with the steward.

"If I pick up anything, Mr. Trask, I'll put a bug in yo' ear."

"All right," said Trask. "But I don't favour your spying on anybody for my sake. You're merely to let me know in case anything goes on that I should know, which relates to the safety of all hands."

"Oh, I ain' go'n to do no snoopin'," said Doc, with one of his peculiar chuckles. "But I looks fer carryin's on."

"I don't want you gossiping," said Trask. Doc was promising to become something of a nuisance.

"Yassir," said the steward, and went away to the galley.

Trask now gave his complete attention to emptying the bag which should have contained the pistol. He made a careful search. But the pistol was gone and he was sure he had packed it that morning at the hotel, together with two boxes of ammunition.

So he ransacked every possible place where the pistol could be misplaced among his effects. But after going through two smaller bags, and shaking out every bit of clothing, even to folding up the sheets and blankets on both bunks, he was sure the pistol was gone.

So far as Trask knew, the only person besides Doc Bird to cross the threshold of his room was Peth. But the mate had been there only a few minutes. Whoever the thief was, he apparently had gone through the bag looking for arms, for nothing else had been disturbed. And it must have taken some time to open the straps and put them back in place, for the leather was stiff and the buckles difficult to manage. Trask had found the ends of the straps tucked in under the leather bands, just as he had fixed them himself at the hotel.

Besides, to get the pistol and ammunition the leather pocket had to be opened, and Trask had found the flap back in place and buckled down. Likewise, the bag had been opened before his own eyes by Doc Bird, and he had stood over the steward while it was unpacked.

Doc couldn't have known the pistol was there, for immediately the bag was opened he stood up and let Trask pass out the contents. Peth had been in the room probably fifteen minutes, and part of that time two of the crew were with him.

Trask knew it would be unfair to charge Peth with the theft of the pistol, or to question the mate about it, and to report his loss to Jarrow might precipitate more trouble on top of the ill-feeling which had already cropped out aboard the schooner.

So he decided to wait and take the matter up at a time more convenient for an investigation.

Trask left his room and went out on deck as if nothing had happened to arouse his suspicions against anybody in the vessel. But he had an idea that Peth might know what had become of the automatic pistol.