Lost in the land of ice

“It’s from the Arrow!” came from Barry.

“Exactly—the sign from the deck-house.”

“Then our steam yacht is gone!”

“It looks like it!”

The two chums surveyed the board critically.

They knew the sign well. It was indeed from the deck-house.

“Perhaps Captain Fenlick tore it off—being afraid to use the name,” suggested Bob, after a pause.

“No, the board was set into the front of the deck-house, Bob. If he didn’t want to use the name he could easily have painted it over. You know there were several pots of paint on board.”

“Then the Arrow must have been caught in the storm and gone to pieces on the rocks.”

“Let us go down to the beach and see if we can find any more wreckage.”

But both were hungry, and in the end they tried to light the fire first.

It was a troublesome task, but at last the fire blazed up and half an hour later they were dining on broiled fish and roasted oysters, a meal, so Bob declared, “fit for a king.”

Then began the search for more evidence of the breaking up of the Arrow.

But though they hunted for the best part of an hour nothing more was brought to light.

Then they walked farther down the beach and presently came upon the rowboat, bottom side up and deeply buried in the sand.

“The boat!” cried Bob. “And see, here is the oar!”

“If only we had the other oar,” put in Barry.

“Don’t expect too much, Barry. Perhaps we can make an oar.”

“Without even a knife? It will be a tough job.”

“There is a bit of driftwood that might be used for an oar on a pinch.”

“Oh, that’s so! Let us turn the boat over and see if it’s sound.”

The craft was righted and examined with care. She seemed to be still water-tight, and the oar was as good as ever. Then Bob ran for the piece of driftwood which had been mentioned. With the rough end smoothed down by rubbing in the sand, it made a fairly good oar.

But though the chums had found something to eat and also the boat, they felt far from light-hearted. Where were they, and where were their friends? And how was this strange adventure to end?

“Let us cook some more fish and roast all the oysters we can find, while the fire lasts,” said Barry. “There is but one more cartridge in the pistol and we want to save that.”

So while Barry went back to the beach to pick up all the food possible, Bob returned to the fire and put on more driftwood.

Both were hard at work cooking some fish, when a sudden shout of joy greeted their ears.

The next moment the jungle behind them parted, and Captain Gordon, Gus Stults, and two of the sailors from the Arrow’s crew appeared.

“Hurrah!” shouted Bob.

“How glad I am to see you!” ejaculated Captain Gordon.

“Mine cracious, dis vos like von tream!” burst out the German cook. “And you vos got somedings to eat, too. I vos most starved alretty!”

The party just arrived looked thin and ready to drop.

They had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and their clothing was in rags.

They had had two brushes with the Patagonians, and the other sailors had been left behind, dead.

Just before coming down the coast they had run across the body of the dead Spaniard, and from this had procured a knife and a small box of matches.

They were about to look for fish to fry when they discovered Bob and Barry.

It was a joyous meeting, and everybody shook hands with everybody else. Bob felt like dancing a jig for joy.

It was decided that the newcomers should first be fed, after which all hands would enter the rowboat and proceed down the coast.

“If the Arrow was wrecked, we ought to find some trace of her below here,” said Captain Gordon.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when they set off, the sailors taking turns at rowing.

Below them was a long curve of the seashore and it took them fully an hour to pass the point.

Beyond the point was a little land-locked bay, fringed with trees and bushes.

“The Arrow!”

The cry came simultaneously from everybody in the rowboat.

There in the bay lay the Arrow at anchor, only a sleepy-looking Spaniard on her deck.

The steam yacht was considerably battered, and the greater part of her deck-house was gone, and also much of her rigging.

“Safe, after all!” muttered Barry. “How fortunate!”

“If we can only recapture her!” replied Bob.

“We must do it.”

“So we must,” put in Captain Gordon.

Keeping out of sight behind the headland, they held a consultation.

It was decided to wait until nightfall, then creep upon the Arrow unawares.

It was already growing dark and they had not long to wait.

They saw a negro come on deck and talk to the Spaniard, and then two other men came up.

The latter were men who had deserted Captain Gordon at the time the Arrow had been captured by Captain Fenlick’s party.

“Four men,” said Captain Gordon. “We ought to be able to overcome them easily.”

Soon the rowboat was on its way toward the steam yacht.

The negro was on deck alone, but presently he, too, went below.

“Now is our chance!” cried Barry, and a few minutes later the rowboat swung alongside of the steam yacht.

Captain Gordon was first over the rail, and he was speedily followed by the others.

Footsteps were heard and the cabin boy, Paul Ferris, appeared.

“Oh!” he cried, thinking he had seen a ghost.

“Hush, Ferris!” ordered Barry. “Tell me, have you cast in your fortunes with the pirates?”

“No! no! I have only done what they made me do,” was the nervous answer. “They told me if I didn’t mind them they would kill me!” and the boy shivered.

“Then you are willing to help us now?”

“Yes! yes!”

“How many are there on board?”

“Five, not counting myself.”

“All in the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“What are they doing?”

“Drinking and smoking. Captain Fenlick went ashore with two——”

“We know all about that. Are the men in the cabin armed?”

“I believe so.”

“Can you find us a few pistols or guns?”

Paul Ferris’ face brightened.

“I can. There are two pistols in the forecastle and a gun in the cook’s galley.”

“I’ll get them,” put in Bob, and ran off, followed by Paul Ferris.

Inside of ten minutes the boarding party was armed with two pistols, a shotgun and several long knives taken from the cook’s knife-box.

In the mean time the party in the cabin were having a glorious time—to their own way of thinking.

Several bottles of liquor had been consumed and the air was thick from tobacco smoke.

One of the Spaniards was singing a coarse love song, and the negro was bawling out a plantation ditty.

“Call somebody on deck,” said Barry to Paul Ferris. “Tell them something is wrong.”

The cabin-boy went to the cabin.

“Come on deck, somebody!” he cried, and hurried away.

“Whatta ees dat?” questioned the Spaniard.

“You’re wanted on deck,” said one of the others, for in the absence of Captain Fenlick and Basker, the Spaniard was in command.

Up to the deck went the Spaniard.

He had hardly taken a dozen steps, when Captain Gordon came up behind him and threw him backward.

“Not a sound, if you value your life!” said the captain of the Arrow.

But the Spaniard began to yell, and this brought the others to the deck in a wild rush.

The negro had his pistol handy, and was about to kill Captain Gordon, when Bob shot him in the shoulder.

The Spaniard showed fight and so did Pat Caven, but the other two men hung back, as if ashamed of themselves. Presently both took to the cabin and locked themselves in.

In less than five minutes the fight was over. No one was seriously hurt, and the negro, Pat Caven, and the Spaniard were made close prisoners.

Then Captain Gordon, Barry, and Bob hurried to the door of the cabin.

“You had better surrender!” said the captain of the steam yacht. “The others are prisoners.”

“Captain, we want to make terms,” pleaded one of the sailors.

“What terms?”

“Forgive us for taking up with Fenlick, and we’ll serve you straight for the rest of the cruise.”

“Will you swear to that, Robertson?”

“Yes, captain; I’ll swear to it. I was a fool to go in with the pirates.”

The second sailor also promised to obey Captain Gordon if released.

“All right, I’ll give you another chance,” said the captain of the Arrow. “Open the cabin door.”