CHAPTER VI.
FIRST TROUBLE.
One of the sailors Charley had selected for his crew was the tall handsome fellow whom the others seemed to shun.
"I can't understand what the rest have against him," the young captain remarked to his chum. "He seems very quiet and well behaved, and he is every inch a sailor. I would ask Manuel about him but it is bad policy to discuss one of the crew with another. It always makes trouble. Likely, Manuel would lie about him anyway, he seems to hate him, look at him glaring at him now."
The Greek was leaning against the railing staring at the sailor who was coiling down a rope near him. Suddenly the Greek addressed the man in a low savage tone. The sailor's face grew red with anger, and he replied shortly in a few hissing words. With a bound, the Greek cleared the space between the two and struck the sailor full in the mouth. The man reeled back against the main mast, but, recovering himself in a second, sprang for his assailant. The Greek leaped to one side and whipped out a long wicked knife.
Before he could use it, Captain Westfield, belaying pin in hand, rushed in between the two.
"Put up that knife," he roared. "I'll do what fighting there is to be done on this ship."
The Greek shot one quick glance at him, venomous with hate, then he glanced beyond him at the two lads who waited expectantly with hands on their pistols.
"He cursed me," he said sullenly, as he slowly replaced the knife in his pocket.
"When anyone curses you, report it to me an' don't take the law in your own hands. I'm master of this schooner, an' you might as well understand it right off. Tell that fellow just what I've told you."
The sailor's face darkened as the Greek spoke to him rapidly, but he turned slowly away and walked forward.
"That's a bad beginning," Charley remarked to his chum. "I wish we had never seen that Greek. I believe he insulted that sailor. The fellow was behaving himself and tending to his own business."
He repeated the remark to the captain a little later.
"I reckon you're right, lad," agreed the old sailor, "that Greek seems to be a trouble-maker but he'll find he's got the wrong man to deal with. I've handled too many crews of tough roughnecks to be bested by a dirty furriner."
"I'll bet he will keep you busy with complaints," Walter said. "How are you going to get at the truth of it if he does complain about the others of the crew?"
"You'll see, I reckon, he will try something like that but I'm ready for him."
Sure enough, in less than an hour the Greek approached the Captain.
"I hate to trouble you, but I must complain as you have directed," he said suavely. "The cook, he is very abusive, I tried to instruct him about your meals but he answers me with vile names."
"Bring the cook aft," Captain Westfield commanded.
Manuel escorted the bewildered-looking cook aft with a look of sly triumph on his face.
The captain looked the man over appraisingly. He was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled fellow. He spoke to him briefly but the cook shook his head. He could not understand.
The old sailor picked up a rope and spread it in a big circle on the deck.
"This insulting of you has got to be stopped right off," he declared, addressing the interpreter. "Give me your knife."
The Greek surrendered his weapon.
"Now both of you get inside that ring and fight it out to a finish," he ordered. "Lick him good for calling you names."
Manuel's face fell, and, turning he spoke rapidly to the cook. "He has apologized and my honor is satisfied," he declared.
"All right," the captain said with a wink at the grinning boys. "Next time any one insults you, I am going to make you give him a good licking in a square fist fight. I'm not agoing to let any of the crew swear at you and call you names—it ain't right."
"I guess we won't have any more complaints from him right off," he chuckled as the disappointed Greek retired forward.
"I'm afraid we're going to have more or less trouble through not understanding their language," Charley said, gravely. "I don't believe he had a bit of trouble with the cook. He was just aiming to have you punish the fellow and get you disliked by the crew."
"I can handle him all right," the captain declared, confidently. "If he gets troublesome I'll iron him and put him down in the hold. I reckon I can make the rest understand what I want done by signs, though it would be mighty awkward if a gale struck us."
The old sailor soon left the boys in charge of the deck and went below to write up the log and look over the charts.
"If this wind holds we'll be on the edge of the sponging grounds by night," he said when he returned. "I didn't realize before how big they are. Why, they reach clear from Cedar Keys to Cape Sable, about seven hundred miles."
"One thing that has puzzled me is that all these schooners seem to come from Key West," Charley remarked, '"Of Key West' is lettered on the stern of every one of them."
"Key West used to be the headquarters for the sponging business in the old days," the captain explained. "They used to gather sponges different from what they do now. A schooner would take out about twenty small boats an' a crew of forty men. When she got to the sponge grounds, the small boats would scatter out around her, two men in each boat. One man would do the sculling and the other would lean over the bow with a water glass in one hand—a pail with a pane of glass for a bottom—and a long pole with a hook in the end in the other. When he spied a sponge on the bottom through the glass he'd have the other stop sculling and he would hook it up with his pole. It was slow, hard work, but they made money at it until the Greeks came with their expert divers. They could not compete with them so they either sold or leased their schooners to the Greeks and went out of business."
The old sailor's explanation was interrupted by a howl of "Oh, Golly!" from the cook' galley forward and Chris, dripping with water, bounded out of the open door of the little structure, and rushed aft.
"I want you to put dat cook in irons, Massa Captain," he cried. "He's done 'saulted his superior officer."
"What did he do to you," the captain asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Throwed a hull pan of dirty, nasty dishwater obber me. I was jus' tellin' him how he had outer do, an' tryin' to show de ignorant man how to cook, when—slosh—he let fly dat big pan full all obber me."
The dirty water was streaming from the little negro's brilliant clothing and his face was streaked with purple from his cap.
The captain checked his desire to laugh.
"The cook did just right," he said, gravely. "You've got no business in his galley. A cook is always boss there. Even the Captain seldom interferes with him."
Chris seemed inclined to protest indignantly, but the old sailor continued.
"How would you like to be cook an' have some one poking around an' tellin' you what to do?"
"Golly! I reckon you is right," the little darkey admitted, "I wouldn't stand such doin's. 'Spect dough dat my good clothes is all spoiled. Dat water was powerful greasy."
"Better dry them out and lay them away," Walter suggested. "They are too fine to wear at sea. You had ought to save them 'till we get in port."
Both boys were glad when Chris accepted the suggestion. They could see that the crew regarded the little fellow in his gay apparel with a contempt and ridicule that the plucky, loyal little lad did not deserve.
Under her shortened canvas, the "Beauty" had dropped to the rear of the fleet. Late in the afternoon the schooners ahead began to shorten sail. Soon one rounded up into the wind, dropped anchor and lowered sail. A mile further on another one anchored, a mile beyond another took in sail, until at last the whole fleet was strung out in a long line reaching many miles North and South.
The captain held the "Beauty" on her course until the last schooner was passed then anchored, lowered sails and made everything snug.
"We are on the sponging grounds," he explained to the boys who had been puzzled by the fleet's maneuvers. "To-morrow we make our first try as spongers."
As soon as their supper was finished the boys strolled forward to view the crew at their meal.
The Greeks ate in groups of four. Each group had a great tin pan filled with some kind of stew. This they divided into four equal portions with their big spoons, all eating from the same pan.
The stew, black bread as hard as a rock, and ripe olives constituted their meal, but the boys, hearty eaters themselves, were astounded at the amount of food each Greek disposed of.
"I never dreamed a man could stow away so much grub," Charley remarked. "They are not eating three meals in one, but six."
CHAPTER VII.
SPONGING.
The morning sun rose over a scene of bustle and activity. From the hundred schooners strung out two or three hundred diving boats with sails hoisted and engines chugging.
The young officers were up and away with the earliest.
"Go slow," Captain Westfield cautioned them as they stepped aboard their craft. "Keep your eyes open an' learn all you can. Don't give any orders unless they are absolutely needed. But if you have to give them an order make them obey it, don't let them trifle with you. You can take Manuel along if you want to, I reckon I can manage to get along without him."
But the boys declined the offer. They had both taken a great dislike to the suave, smiling Greek.
The Captain had given their crew general instructions before they left the schooner and the young officers had but little to do but signify by waves of their hands which direction they wished to go.
All places looked alike to the inexperienced boys, and as soon as their craft was a quarter of a mile from the schooner, Charley signed to his crew to anchor and proceed with their work.
The divers at once prepared for their descent to the bottom. The lead was first hove to find out the depth of the water, which proved to be about thirty-five feet. Before donning their waterproof suits, the divers tested the air pump carefully and examined the air hose minutely, for upon these two things their lives would depend when once they sank beneath the surface. While they were putting on the strange looking suits and heavy leaded shoes, the crew slung short ladders over the sides. The divers put on their headpieces last of all, these were large globe-shaped coverings of metal with two heavy glasses in front through which to see. But two divers were to descend at a time. Their places would be taken by two others at the end of two hours, which is about as long as one can safely work at a time beneath the surface. Those in reserve assisted their companions in adjusting the heavy headpieces. As soon as the helmets were on they screwed in the air hose, and connected the other ends to the pumps. A line by which to lower and raise them was fastened around each diver's body and he was then assisted onto the ladder, for it was almost impossible for them to move in their cumbersome suits and lead shoes. As soon as they had been helped to the lowest step on the ladder, each was given a large basket to which a long line had been fastened, and they were slowly and gently lowered to the bottom.
The young officers watched their operations with eager interest. What impressed them most was the vigilant care shown by the divers remaining on board. One took charge of the tub in which the air hose was coiled and paid it out carefully as the diver sank, the other held the life-line instantly ready for the jerks which would signal to him the wishes of the one below. Not once did either's eyes shift or his attention waver from his task.
"It's easy to see that this is a dangerous business," Walter remarked.
"Yes," his chum agreed, "I am beginning to see that Mr. Williams was right when he said sponging was a man's game. It certainly takes nerve to descend like those divers have, knowing that there is nothing between them and death but that little air hose. But have you noticed how they are treating that strange handsome fellow? They all seem to be afraid to have him near."
The mysterious sailor had approached the men working the air pumps, apparently with the purpose of helping with the pumping, but the pumpers drove him away with menacing gestures and upraised fists. He moved over near the coiled air hose but the diver in charge of that met him with a torrent of fiercely-uttered words and he slunk dejectedly forward, and, seating himself by the mast, buried his face in his hands.
"Poor chap," Walter remarked, "he seems to be hated by the whole crew. I wonder what is the reason."
"We will find out, I guess, when we meet up with Mr. Williams again," his chum replied. "He will likely know, or be able to find out quickly from some of his crew. But look, we are about to see our first sponges."
There had been a couple of quick jerks on the life-line. The diver holding it called to one of the crew who seized the line that had been attached to the basket, and began hauling it carefully in hand over hand.
The boys leaned over the side, eager for the first glimpse of their future cargo. When the basket came into view they both uttered an exclamation of disgust and disappointment.
Instead of bright, clean, yellow sponges with which they were familiar, the basket was heaped with what looked like huge lumps of dirty mud.
The man dumped the contents out on deck and lowered the basket down again.
"What greenies we are," Charley said as he glanced at his chum's crestfallen face. "We might have known if we had stopped to think, that sponges have to be cleaned and cured before they look like those we saw on shore. I expect that pile is worth a lot of money in spite of its unattractive appearance."
Five times did the basket appear loaded to the brim before the divers' two hour spell below expired. As soon as their time was up they were hauled aboard, their suits removed and the other two took their places.
"Whew, but I am getting hungry," Walter exclaimed as noon time drew near, "and we came off from the schooner without bringing a lunch with us."
"I am glad we did," Charley said. "It's all right having our meals regular when we are on board the schooner and out of sight of the crew, but it would hardly seem right to eat now before these hungry fellows. I guess we can stand it to go without dinner of they can stand it to go without both dinner and breakfast. Besides, I don't believe I could eat any lunch if we had it. Whew, but that smell is getting awful."
The hot sun was getting in its work on the rapidly increasing pile of sponges on deck. Adhering to them were multitudes of muscles and little fish which were beginning to send forth a fearful stench.
"I am beginning to realize that a sponger's life is anything but a bed of roses," Walter laughed. "It's easy to understand now why they only eat one meal a day."
The novelty of the diving operations soon wore off and the boys, to pass the time, busied themselves with an attempt to learn something of the Greek language. They selected the engineer for their teacher. He was a young fellow with an intelligent, good-humored face and seemed to take great interest in their efforts. Touching different parts of the boat and engine the boys repeated the English names for them. The young fellow grasped the idea instantly and repeated the names in Greek, laughing heartily over their attempts to pronounce the words after him.
In this manner the time passed quickly and pleasantly and the lads were delighted with the rapid progress they made.
"At this rate we will be able to speak the language a little in a week's time," Charley declared. "I'm—" but he never finished the sentence.
From around them rose cries that brought the lads springing to their feet.
The crew were all crowded against the rail staring as if fascinated over the side, while the diver holding one of the life-lines was hauling it in with feverish energy.
As the boys sprang to the rail, the diver's headpiece appeared above the surface One glance, and they understood the reason for the sudden commotion—from the metal helmet dangled a short piece of severed air hose.
The luckless man was quickly dragged aboard, the head-piece quickly removed, and his rubber clothing cut away, but his eyes were closed and his face purple—he was dead. A long, weird, prolonged wailing came from his shipmates which arose and fell strangely, like the strains of the mournful death march.
The two chums gazed at each other with pale, horror-stricken faces.
"Poor fellow," Walter murmured, "His life went out like a candle in a gale. Alive one minute, dead the next. What could have cut that hose?"
"Chafed against a sharp branch of coral or bitten in two by a shark," Charley replied, sadly. "Well, I guess it means the last of our sponging, the other divers will hardly want to go down after such an accident, and I don't blame them."
But, to his amazement, as soon as the wailing chant ceased, one of the remaining divers began coolly to prepare to take the dead man's place.
"My, but those fellows have got nerve," he declared, admiringly, but he stopped the man as he began to put on his diving suit and by signs ordered the crew to get up anchor and return to the schooner.
"It's only a couple of hours to dark and we have had enough for one day anyway," he remarked to his chum.
When the diving boat reached the schooner his shipmates prepared the dead man for burial. The body was sewed up in stout canvas and a piece of iron fastened to it. It was then gently lowered over the side and sank slowly beneath the waves.
With its disappearance all vestige of gloom disappeared from the crew. The dead man's scanty belongings were brought forth and auctioned off to the various bidders, and an hour after the crew were chatting and laughing with each other as cheerfully as ever.
"Mr. Williams was right, this is a man's game, and a game for rough, fearless men only," Walter remarked thoughtfully, for a second time.
CHAPTER VIII.
TROUBLE.
After the crew had eaten their supper and rested a bit, the captain had them transfer the sponges from the diving boat to the deck of the schooner. The sponges made quite an imposing pile which the old sailor surveyed with satisfaction. "You've done well to-day," he remarked, "if every day's work is as good we'll have a valuable cargo before our three months are up. I reckon, thar's all of two hundred dollars' worth of sponges in that heap."
"Are you sure that you know how to clean and cure them right?" Charley enquired.
"I don't, but Chris knows that part of the business from A to Z. Where he comes from the people live by sponging and pearl fishing."
"Golly, dat's right," observed the little darkey. "I'se helped my daddy fix sponges many a time. First off, you'se got to beat de mud out ob dem wid sticks, den you got to let dem lay foah a day or two to die, 'cause dey's alive jus' like fishes. When dey's good an' dead, you puts dem in nets an' hangs dem ober de side for de water to wash dem out clean. Den you dry dem out on deck an' string dem out on strings 'bout two yards long. Dat makes dem all ready for market 'cept for clipping de bad parts off of dem, which is done on shore. Dar ain't nothin' 'bout fixin' up sponges dat dis nigger doan know."
Just then a small boat came alongside the schooner and the boys hastened to the side to welcome the two men it contained. They were the captain and mate of the schooner anchored nearest to the "Beauty". Both were young fellows hardly out of their teens. They introduced themselves as Steve Ward, and Ray Lowe.
"We thought we'd drop over and have a little chat with you," said Ward, who was the captain. "You, of course, don't realize it yet, but an American face looks mighty good amongst this army of Greeks, especially after one has been out for a month or two. We all start out together but before the season ends we get pretty widely scattered and to meet up with another schooner with an American aboard is like coming across a long-lost brother. This is my fifth trip and I am getting pretty well hardened to the loneliness now, but the first time I was out I nearly went crazy. After we parted from the rest of the fleet, it was worse than being alone on a desert island, for I had the misery of seeing others talk, laugh and enjoy themselves without being able to understand a word. When, at last, we came across a ship with someone aboard I could talk to I nearly cried for joy. It seemed so good to be able to understand and make myself understood once more." His glance fell upon Manuel George, who was leaning against the rail, and his gray eyes narrowed.
"What made you bring that fellow with you?" he asked.
"We had to have someone along who could talk their lingo," Captain Westfield replied. "Do you know him?"
"I don't know anything good of him," said the other shortly. "I came near killing him once and I've always half regretted that I didn't do it. It was on my first trip," he explained. "It was just such another case as that young fellow's who was arrested the other day. Although I was captain, the Greeks owned the schooner, and, because I was young and inexperienced, they got the idea they could run over me and do as they pleased. Manuel was always stirring them up and encouraging them to disobey orders. One day I had some words with him about it, and,"—the young fellow's face darkened—"well, he carries a bullet in his leg yet. The others set on me and I had to lock myself up in the cabin. Likely, they would have got me in the end and thrown me overboard to feed the sharks, but we happened to come across another schooner and they had to let me go."
"He don't want to try any tricks with me," Captain Westfield declared. "I got him to talk their lingo but had him sign on as one of the crew. If he tries to act up, I'll put him at the hardest work on the schooner."
"Well, keep your eye on him," advised the other. "He has never made a trip yet without making trouble. He's a mighty bad egg and as sly and cunning as he is mean."
The two men remained for over two hours, and from them the little party learned many new and interesting things about their new business and about the Greeks.
"We have no reason to complain of a dull trip so far," Charley said, when the two Americans had left. "Only two days out and one of our crew is dead, another is supposed to be on the watch to make us trouble, and a third is a mystery worth solving, judging from the way the others treat him. If things keep on as they have started, we will have a voyage exciting enough to satisfy anyone."
If the lad could have known of the exciting events soon to follow close on each other's heels, he would have had even less reason to complain of dullness.
The next day's sponging was the same as the first. They seemed to have happened upon a spot where the sponges were unusually plentiful. The basket came frequently to the surface loaded with the big mud-covered masses and by nightfall the diving boat's deck was well covered. All day the two lads persisted in their attempt to learn the Greek names for the things about them. By night Charley was able to direct the operation of getting under way for the schooner. Of course, he was yet unable to construct sentences in Greek, but he could call the Greek names for sails, anchor, and different parts of the rigging and the crew managed to guess the rest. Though it was a crude and imperfect way of giving orders, it succeeded better than the slow, imperfect signs he had been obliged to depend upon before.
"If we keep on as fast, we will be able to make them understand us well within two weeks," he declared gleefully.
It was still light enough for them to see distinctly when they reached the schooner, and they looked about them with regret as they climbed aboard. Her snow-white decks were filthy from the pounding out of the sponges, and bulwarks, sails and rigging were spattered with the foul mud, while the strong, rank odor of dead fish hung heavy in the air.
Chris and the captain had just knocked off work. Their faces, hands and clothing were black as soot. The old sailor's face showed set and stern through its coating of mud. He said little until all were washed up and seated around the supper table.
"Well, lads, I reckon our troubles have begun," he remarked, grimly. "Manuel an' I had a row to-day."
"What about? How did it come out?" the boys questioned, eagerly.
"I told him to help us with the sponge cleaning and he refused to do it. When I insisted he flew into a rage, cursed me, an' shook his fist in my face. I couldn't stand for that an' he's down in the hold now with the irons on him."
"Well, I feel easier with him there than with him mixing in with the crew," Charley declared.
"My row with him ain't the worst of the matter," the old sailor said gravely. "I called on the crew to help me iron him and they all pretended they didn't understand my sign, but they knew what I wanted all right. I had to handle him alone an' we had quite a struggle before I got the best of him." He rolled up his sleeve and showed an ugly-looking cut on his arm. "He came near getting me with his knife an' I had to give him a couple of taps with a belaying pin. That cut don't amount to anything, but what worries me is that the crew stood around an' watched him try to kill me without interfering—it's a mighty bad sign."
"That does look bad," Charley agreed, anxiously. "I guess we had better keep him a close prisoner and not let any of the crew go near him, he might try to stir them up and make things hot for us."
"But that means that someone will have to guard him an' carry his meals to him. It wouldn't do to have one of the Greeks do it, I reckon."
"No," Charley agreed, thoughtfully, "but I believe I've got the very man for the job—that handsome fellow the others seem to hate so. Manuel tried to kill him and he is not likely to be easy with him."
The mysterious sailor was at once sent for by Ben. As soon as he came the captain loaded a tray with food and a bottle of water and signed for him to carry it and follow him. Charley and Walter accompanied the two.
As they passed along the deck on their way to the hold, they met angry glances and frowns from the crew.
The mysterious sailor was very intelligent and they soon made him understand that he was to guard the prisoner. He grinned with enjoyment and, seating himself a little way from the Greek, took out his long keen sheath knife and laid it handy beside him.
The prisoner's face grew black with rage at sight of his guard, but he maintained a sulky silence.
"I guess he's safe enough now," the captain said as they returned to their cabin. "I believe that fellow will guard him faithfully. They seem to hate each other like poison—I wish I knew the reason for it."
"It would not seem so strange if the hatred was confined to him and Manuel, but all the others seem to share in the feeling," Charley remarked. "It seems very queer to me."
CHAPTER IX.
MANUEL'S RELEASE.
Before the boys left the schooner next morning, the guard they had set over Manuel approached the captain, and by signs and gestures intimated that the prisoner wished to speak to him.
Manuel's sullen demeanor had entirely disappeared and he looked humble and penitent.
"I wish to make my most humble apologies to you, noble captain," he declared. "All night long I have thought over my hasty actions with shame and regret. You were right and I wrong. I will work hard at whatever you set me to do, and in the future you will have no cause to complain if you will set me at liberty."
There were tears in the fellow's eyes and his voice trembled as he spoke.
"Stop that blubbering," said the blunt old sailor, who detested tears in men. "I reckon, if you are sure that you've learned your lesson an' won't try to act smart again, I'll set you free; but the minute you try to start any trouble again, I'll put you down here for keeps."
As he removed the irons from the prisoner, the strange sailor burst into a torrent of passionate speech.
The captain paid no attention to him for he could not understand a word of it, but Charley, who was watching closely, saw Manuel give the fellow a quick glance of sly triumph.
"I'm afraid you have made a mistake in setting that fellow free, Captain," the lad said, as they returned to the deck. "I believe it would have been wiser to have kept him in irons until we could touch some port and put him ashore."
"I never feel like being hard on a man when he's sorry for what he has done," the old sailor replied. "I guess it will make the crew feel better tempered to have him set free. I'm going to put him ashore at the first port we touch. In the meanwhile we'll keep him hard at work an' keep a eye on him all the time."
"Perhaps we had better take him with us and put him to work at the pump," Walter suggested. "That's good hard work."
Charley approved the suggestion, for in spite of the Greek's seeming repentance, the lad did not trust him in the least and thought it wisest that he and the captain should be kept separated for awhile after their quarrel.
Manuel went at the hard labor at the air pump with a willingness and cheerfulness which seemed to show the sincerity of his repentance. At first, he seemed inclined to talk overmuch with the rest of the crew, but Charley cut short his talkativeness with a curt command.
"I believe that fellow is a regular Jonah," he confided to his chum during the noon hour rest. "Yesterday and the day before we got lots of sponges, but we haven't taken in enough this morning to pay expenses."
"I guess this part of the ground is getting worked out, perhaps," Walter replied. "I've noticed several schooners pulling up anchor and getting under way."
His surmise proved correct for during the afternoon many of the fleet passed them headed North. Evidently others were finding the ground as poor as they did.
Late in the afternoon the captain recalled them to the schooner with a signal previously agreed upon,—a flag hoisted to the foremast head.
"I reckon we'd better be getting under way," the old sailor said when they got aboard. "I want to keep with the fleet an' all the schooners seem to be getting under sail. I've noted the course they are takin' an' with this wind they'll be a long ways from us if we wait until morning. I hailed one of the captains and he said they intended to sail all night an' anchor an' get to work early in the morning."
By the time the sails were all hoisted and the anchor tripped, it had grown quite dark so the schooner's great side-lights of red and green were filled, lit, and lashed to the foremast shrouds, for, with so many boats around them every caution must be taken to avoid running one down, or being run down themselves. The crew was divided into three watches. Of which Walter was to have charge of the first, from eight to twelve o'clock. Charley to have command of the second, or middle watch, from twelve to four o'clock, while the captain would take the third, or morning watch, from four to eight A. M.
The breeze held steady and strong and the night passed away without any exciting incident.
The boys were up again at first peep of day, expecting to have to start out with the diving boat as soon as the sun arose. But, when they gained the deck, they found the "Beauty" still swinging along on her course and the captain pacing the deck greatly perplexed.
"It's mighty queer, but thar ain't one of the fleet in sight," he exclaimed as he caught sight of the lads. "I don't understand it at all. Go aloft, Charley, an' see if you can see any of them."
The lad swung himself into the shrouds and made his way up to the mainmast cross trees, but, although he gazed all around, his eyes met nothing but the broad expanse of the blue sparkling waters.
"Maybe we've run them all out of sight during the night," he suggested when he regained the deck, but the old sailor shook his head.
"The 'Beauty's' mighty fast, but she's not speedy enough to do that," he declared. "Some of those schooners were ten miles ahead of us when we started. Besides, I shortened sail as soon as I took my watch, because I did not want to get in the lead."
"Perhaps we have dropped away behind the rest," Walter said, but the others knew that that was impossible. The "Beauty" was far too fast a boat to be left so far behind.
The Captain examined the log. "We have come a hundred and ten miles," he said. "Do you reckon either of you boys could have made a mistake in the course during your watch?"
"We didn't vary a quarter of a point from the direction you gave during my four hours," Charley declared. "I kept watch of the compass most of the time and the needle held steady at North."
"I was careful about that, also," Walter said. "We were headed exactly North during my entire watch."
"Well, that compass is true," the captain declared. "I tested it carefully before we left port. I reckon thar's only one explanation; the fleet must have changed their course during the night. We'd better heave-to until noon when I can take the sun an' tell exactly where we are at. It ain't no use trying to pick up the fleet again, now they are out of sight—it would be like hunting for a needle in a hay stack."
The crew were immediately set to taking in sail and in a few minutes the little ship was lying head to the wind under reefed foresail sail.
When the noon hour drew near, Captain Westfield brought his instruments on deck and prepared to take an observation of the sun. As soon as he secured it he went below to work out their position on the chart.
When he reappeared his face wore a very puzzled expression. "Heave the lead and find out how deep the water is an' what kind of bottom," he said, briefly.
Charley took the lead, a heavy cone-shaped piece of lead, slightly hollowed at the bottom, and with a long line attached to the small end. Filling the hollow end with soft soap, he dropped the lead over the side and let it sink until it struck the bottom. Then he pulled it aboard again, noting carefully the water mark on the line and examining the soap to which some particles of the bottom had adhered.
"Depth, six fathoms, (36 feet) bottom, soft gray mud," he announced.
The captain strode back to the compass and stared at it with a puzzled frown on his face.
"We're forty miles from where we should be," he said as the boys gathered around him, "Sure neither of you boys made a mistake in the course last night?"
"Sure," declared both lads positively.
The four puzzled over the strange situation in silence for several minutes. Then the captain with his knife loosened the screws and removed the compass' face of glass.
"I wonder how that got there," he suddenly exclaimed.
Cunningly placed, so as to draw the magnetic needle West of North was a small bright iron nail.
"It couldn't have got there by itself," Charley declared, excitedly. "It must have been put there by someone while we were all at supper last night."
"I guess there is no doubt as to who that someone was," with an inclination of his head towards Manuel who, standing a little ways off was watching them closely. The Greek, as soon as he saw the attention he was receiving, turned and strolled carelessly forward.
The captain pondered gravely, "I don't see what his object was," he said, at last. "If we held on that course long it would only have carried us further out into the Gulf, so he couldn't have been aiming to get us wrecked."
"He planned to get us separated from the fleet," Charley declared. "Do you think we could find it again, captain?"
The old sailor shook his head. "There's no telling where we are now," he said, gloomily, "we might hunt for days without coming across them. If that fellow did put that nail there to make us lose them, he's succeeded all right."
"What had we better do, captain?" Walter asked, anxiously.
"Well, we aint got no real proof that the fellow put that nail thar so we can't do anything with him. It might have been in thar all the time, though I'm willing to take an oath that the compass was true when we left port. Thar ain't much chance of picking up the fleet again an' I don't reckon we'd better waste time trying it. The lead shows we are still on the sponge banks an' I reckon we'd best just get to work, say nothing, an' keep a close watch on that oil Greek chap."
The "Beauty" was anchored accordingly, sails lowered and furled, and everything made snug. As soon as that was done, the boys ordered their crew into the diving boat and, running out a little ways from the schooner, gave the signal to resume the diving operations.
By sheer accident, they had chanced upon a spot rich in sponges and the lads watched with satisfaction the steady reappearance of the lowered basket.
CHAPTER X.
A RASH RESOLVE.
The boys watched Manuel closely throughout the entire afternoon, but they could detect nothing amiss in his manner or actions. He did his work willingly and cheerfully, humming a tune most of the time, apparently he was at peace with himself and the world.
They were not the only ones who watched the Greek closely. Whenever the lads glanced at the handsome sailor, they found him gazing intently at the suspected man, much as a cat watches a mouse, ready to spring at its slightest movement.
The boys kept well apart from the crew, watchful for any threatened outbreak on their part. But the men seemed so cheerful, willing and contented that they soon grew ashamed of their distrust.
Once the handsome sailor approached them respectfully, hat in hand, and, halting before them, spoke rapidly in a low voice. The lads shook their heads to show that they did not understand, and, with a look of helpless resignation on his face, the fellow returned to his work.
"I wish we could understand what he says," Charley said, wistfully. "He, evidently, has something important he wishes to tell us."
"We will be able to make out what he says before long," Walter said, cheerfully. "We are learning lots of new words every day."
"Yes, we are getting along pretty well," his chum agreed, "but we are not picking up the language near as well as Chris. It's really wonderful how fast he is learning."
The little negro and the Greek boy had become great friends and Chris, naturally quick witted, was learning with astonishing rapidity to talk to his new chum.
"It's the best day we've had yet," Charley declared as they returned to the schooner in the evening. "We have got as many sponges this afternoon as we have during any entire day."
Captain Westfield was elated over their success. "It's turned out all right after all," he said. "We've stumbled upon a mighty rich part of the banks, an' I reckon, we ain't lost the fleet either, as we feared, thar's some twenty sails coming up from the South'ard."
The vessels, which the boys had not noticed before, were approaching rapidly, coming before the stiff breeze. Before dark settled down, they were plainly visible but the eager watchers could not recognize any of them, they seemed larger schooners than any they had seen in the fleet. The strangers anchored for the night near the "Beauty" and the captain got out his night glass and studied them carefully.
"They ain't any of the fleet," he declared with keen disappointment. "They're Spanish smacks from Cuba. They fish around this coast regularly every season."
"Well, they'll be some company, anyway, as long as they stay near us," Charley said, cheerfully. "I can speak Spanish if I can't Greek, we can go over and call on them in the morning. I'd like to go to-night, but I feel too tired out to move."
Soon after supper, Manuel approached Captain Westfield, respectfully.
"We would like to go aboard the schooners, if you will permit," he requested. "We are nearly out of tobacco and the Cubans always carry a lot for which we can trade."
The old sailor thought for a few minutes. "You can go," he said, shortly, "you an' one man. Take the dingy. I don't want the diving boat used. An' be sure you're back aboard early."
The Greek thanked him effusively for the permission, and, calling one of his shipmates, the two got the schooner's little boat over the side and sculled away for the nearest smack.
"They have got plenty of tobacco," growled the captain, as soon as the two were out of hearing. "Thar was enough sent aboard at Tarpon to last them for months. I reckon he's figuring on deserting, that's why I let him go. I'd be willing to lose the boat and the other man to be well rid of him."
It seemed that the old sailor was correct for when eight o'clock came Manuel had not returned.
"After what happened last night, I don't reckon it's wise to leave the deck alone," the captain said as the boys prepared to retire to their bunks. "One of us had ought to keep watch to see that no one monkeys with the wheel or compass."
Walter offered to take the first watch from eight to twelve, and, leaving him pacing back and forth aft of the mainmast, the others retired to rest.
Charley was awakened by a vigorous shaking and his chum's voice calling to him to get up.
"My watch so soon," grumbled the lad sleepily, "Seems like I just got to sleep."
"It's only eleven o'clock," said Walter in excited tones, "but Manuel came aboard an hour ago very drunk. He must have brought liquor with him for they are all raising merry Ned in the forecastle now. The captain and Chris are on deck. Hurry up, there's likely to be trouble any minute."
Charley slipped hastily into his clothing and securing his revolver ran on deck. His three companions with revolvers in their hands were ranged across the deck just aft of the mainmast. From the forecastle, forward, came an uproar of shouting, cursing, and fighting.
The old sailor was blaming himself, bitterly. "I'd ought to have thought of it," he exclaimed, "Auguident is cheap as water in Cuba an' those smacks always carry a lot of it to trade off for other things. What an old fool I was."
"What shall we do?" Charley asked.
"Nothing, but let 'em fight it out amongst themselves an' keep 'em from crowding aft on us. Our lives wouldn't be worth a pinch of snuff if we went down to quiet them. If any of 'em tries to come aft of the mainmast, shoot him."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a figure burst out of the forecastle and came running aft followed by several others staggering, shouting and cursing.
The captain raised his pistol and took deliberate aim as the flying man drew near.
"Stop, or I'll shoot," he commanded.
Charley knocked aside his upraised arm. "Let him pass," he cried, "it's the strange sailor, they have been trying to kill him."
The handsome fellow was bleeding from a dozen knife wounds, and was breathing short and heavily. As he reached the little party of chums, he turned about and faced his pursuers. It was evident that he did not lack courage.
The pursuing Greeks stopped short at sight of the little band stretched across the deck with leveled revolvers. For a minute they seemed about to dash forward regardless of consequences, but, after a moment's hesitation, with a volley of curses they turned and slunk back to the forecastle. They were yet sober enough to realize the danger of open mutiny.
"I don't think they'll try to bother us," said the captain with a sigh of relief. "They ain't drunk enough for that yet, an' I reckon they've about drank up all their liquor by now. It wouldn't last long amongst so many of them."
The strange sailor had sunk to the deck in a dead faint, and, leaving the boys to guard the deck, the Captain and Chris carried him below, and, laying him in one of the bunks, hurried back to their companions.
"He ain't going to die," the old sailor informed them. "He's just weak from loss of blood. I didn't take time to look him over close, but I counted nineteen knife cuts on his body an' likely thar's some I didn't notice."
"We will have to keep him back aft with us. They would likely kill him if we sent him back to the forecastle, for he is unable to defend himself now," Charley said, and his chums agreed with him.
The uproar in the forecastle continued for a long time then gradually subsided. Evidently, the crew had disposed of the last of the liquor and its effects were slowly wearing off.
Not until four o'clock, however, did the last noise cease, and the little party of chums remained on deck until the sun rose, ready for any violence from the drunken Greeks. Daylight found them pale and tired from their long, anxious vigil.
"Better go below, lads, and have a good nap," the captain advised. "They have all quieted down and there is no danger of trouble for the present. They are going to feel mighty sick and weak from the drink."
"I'm not going to give them a chance to sleep off their bad feelings," declared Charley, grimly. "My crew have got to turn to and work as usual. I'm going to turn them out as soon as Ben awakes."
When the little Greek lad appeared, looking pale and frightened, Charley sent him below to rouse Manuel.
The lad, apparently, did not relish the task but he went, and, after a long time, reappeared accompanied by the Greek.
Manuel plainly showed the effects of the liquor. He looked sick and haggard and one eye was much discolored from a blow he had received. He was ready, however, with an excuse for the night's disorder. "I did my best to stop the noise and trouble, and it was thus I received a blow in the eye."
"You were drunk when you came aboard," accused Walter.
"I took a drink on the schooner," admitted Manuel, "only one little drink. It was foolish, for I am unused to liquor and it went to my legs, but my head was clear. I regret the disorder of the others."
There was no doubt in the minds of the captain and the boys that he was really the author of all the trouble, but they could not prove it and Charley dismissed him with a curt command to call the crew.
They were a sick-looking crowd when they were at last collected on deck. All showed the effect of the liquor and many were the black eyes and bruised faces. Their fighting humor seemed to have departed, however, and they went about their tasks quietly, sullenly, and listlessly.
After they had finished their morning coffee, Charley ordered his crew into the diving boat and set out for the spot where they had found so many sponges.
CHAPTER XI.
A MYSTERY.
The two boys kept well apart from the crew, and watched closely for any signs of threatened trouble, but, although the men looked sullen and ugly enough for any kind of act, they seemed much subdued and went about their tasks quietly saying little, even to each other.
"I guess we are giving ourselves a lot of worry without cause," Walter remarked, softly. "Those fellows seem quiet enough now. It was the liquor that made them act as they did last night, but they have drank it all up now and I do not believe we will have any more trouble with them."
"I wish I could agree with you," his chum said, gravely, "but I can't. I believe in the old Latin proverb—'in vino veritas'—there is truth in wine. I've always noticed that when a man gets intoxicated, he reveals just the kind of man he really is. If he is naturally quarrelsome when sober he is sure to want to fight when drinking. If he is good-hearted and kind when sober, he is generally good-humored when drunk. Liquor seems to destroy a man's caution and make him reveal his real character. Now these fellows showed plainly their feelings towards us last night when they were drinking. To-day they are sober and more cautious, but I believe they feel just the same towards us. It only needs some real or fancied wrong to bring their hatred to the surface again. I believe if we had a clash with one of them now we would have a first-class mutiny on our hands; but, I guess, we had not better do any more whimpering. They will suspect that we are discussing them and it will not improve matters any."
For awhile the sponges came up from below every half hour, but towards noon a full hour went by without the basket making its appearance. The lads, at last, became somewhat alarmed at the delay.
"Do you suppose they are in any trouble down below?" Charley enquired of Manuel.
The Greek shook his head. "They would have signaled if anything had been wrong. There, they are signaling now."
There came several jerks on the life-lines and the Greeks in charge of them pulled the divers up and into the boat. The men had been below for only an hour and the boys were puzzled to account for their coming up before their time had expired. When their head-pieces were removed the lads could see that the divers were greatly excited. They spoke rapidly to those around them, and a hum of excited conversation arose from the before listless crew.
"What's the matter?" Charley demanded of Manuel, who seemed to be the most excited of all.
"It is nothing," was the quick reply. "The men grew faint for a minute but they will be all right soon. That often happens to one when diving."
The Greek's excitement was too great for such a trivial cause and Charley decided promptly that he was lying.
In a few minutes the divers resumed their head-pieces and prepared to descend again. As they stood on the ladders one of the crew handed one of them a coil of light rope to the end of which was attached a piece of light wood.
"What does he want with that buoy?" Charley demanded, sharply.
"There's a bad hole in the bottom which he wishes to mark so that there will be no danger of his blundering into it," replied Manuel promptly, but, again, Charley decided that the fellow was lying.
"There's something in the wind," he remarked to Walter. "The crew seem greatly excited, and Manuel, I am sure, is lying."
A strange change had suddenly taken place in the crew's manner. Before, they had been silent, sullen and listless, now, they were animated, their eyes glittered with excitement, and they chattered back and forth like so many magpies.
Manuel evidently noticed that the boys were watching them closely, for he addressed them in a low tone and their chattering ceased. They resumed their work with something like a return of their former manner, but it was easy to see that their sullenness was now assumed.
The lads turned their attention to the course the diver was taking, and watched for the appearance of the buoy which would show the whereabouts of the bad place on the bottom. The bit of wood soon floated into view not a hundred feet from the boat.
Apparently, the divers were still suffering from their faintness, for it was a long time after they descended before the first basket load of sponges appeared, and it was nearly an hour before the second one was hoisted aboard.
"We are not getting many to-day," Walter grumbled. "If we don't do better pretty soon, we had better move and try another place."
"There is something queer doing," Charley declared. "Just watch those life-lines and see what you make of it."
The ropes which were fastened to the divers showed plainly the direction taken by the men below. The lines were kept faintly taut to permit of the signals being clearly felt, and their slant gave an accurate idea of just where the divers were working.
Walter watched for awhile, a puzzled frown gathering on his face.
"Why," he exclaimed, "they are right on that bad part of bottom, and they haven't stirred for the last fifteen minutes."
The lads continued to watch the tell-tale lines. For another fifteen minutes the ropes remained motionless, then from their twitching it became evident that the divers were once more moving around. In a short time thereafter, the usual signal was given and two baskets of sponges were hoisted up.
"That's got me puzzled," said Charley, as the peculiar performance was repeated. "I guess we had better appear not to have noticed it. The crew is not looking at us in a very friendly way."
The attitude of the Greeks seemed to be growing hostile. Many were the unfriendly glances they cast at the two lads and the boys could hear their names repeated in the low-toned conversation going on.
The two lads retired to the bow where, though they effected to be taking their ease, they kept on the alert for the first signs of trouble.
Though nothing happened to further arouse their fears, it was a trying situation and both were glad when the time came to return to the schooner.
They found the captain and Chris both tired from a hard day's labor cleaning sponges. The wounded sailor was sitting back by the wheel, looking somewhat pale and haggard, but not a great deal the worse for his many wounds.
"His troubles' been sorter praying on his mind all day," said the captain. "He got a hold of my pad and pencil this morning an' he's been drawing pictures of the fight and other things—here's one of them."
The old sailor produced a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
Walter examined the sketch closely. It was not without a certain cleverness and was better than one would expect of a humble sailor before the mast. It depicted a struggle between two groups of men. In one of the groups, the lad could recognize some of the faces of the Greeks, who, armed with knives and clubs, were assailing the other party. As the lad bent over to examine the other group more closely, he uttered an exclamation of surprise. At first glance there was nothing startling about those whom the Greeks were fighting, but a second glance showed something familiar about the figures composing it. He passed the sketch to Charley.
"What do you make of it?" he asked.
"Why, that little group is intended to represent us," his chum exclaimed. "See they are just four in number. That big one with the beard is meant for the captain and the little one for Chris, the other two are you and I. Why, the likeness to us is quite striking when you look at it closely."
"I believe he intended this for a warning to us," Walter declared. "Where are the rest of the things he drew, Captain?"
"I threw them all away, I didn't reckon they meant anything," the old sailor replied, regretfully.
"Well, never mind," said Charley cheerfully, "we will get him to draw them over again. He seems a very intelligent fellow. I wish he could talk so as to tell us what the crew are saying now. Just look at him."
The strange sailor was leaning forward listening eagerly to the buzz of conversation going on between the Greeks. The diving boat's crew seemed to have conveyed the excitement under which they had been laboring all day to their shipmates who had remained aboard the schooner. Groups of two or three were gathered here and there, talking eagerly together.
Walter called the little Greek lad to him.
"What are the men talking about, Ben?"
The little fellow hesitated before replying. It was plain that he was greatly troubled and frightened. "They talk about nothing much," he stammered.
Walter was pressing him with further questions when his chum interfered.
"It's hardly fair to make him tell," he said. "It might cause him a lot of trouble. His uncle is glaring at him now, as though he would like to kill him."
There was nothing to be learned by watching the crew's actions, so, signing to the wounded sailor to follow them, the four chums descended to the cabin where the Greek cook had supper waiting for them.
Charley was unusually quiet during the meal, but when the Greek cook and Ben had at last retired carrying the dishes with them, he arose and closed the cabin door.
"Captain," he said as he returned to his companions, "I am going down in a diving suit to-morrow."