The Motor Rangers on Blue Water; or, The Secret of the Derelict

CHAPTER VI.

THE VOICE IN THE DARK.

The forehold into which Nat was conducted proved to be a dark, musty smelling place. Stanchions, like the pillars of a church, held up the deck above them. By the hollow ring of his and his guardians' feet on the floor Nat could tell that there must be yet another hold below the one in which it seemed he was to be made prisoner.

The men, none too gently, secured him hand and foot to one of the stanchions. Then, without a word, they turned and left him, ascending the steep ladder by which they had entered the hold. The next instant the light which filtered into the hold through the hatchway was shut out as the aperture was closed with a bang.

Nat, weak, drenched, and half starved, and wounded moreover, found himself in total blackness. He could move neither hand nor foot, although the instant the light was excluded he could hear the scuttling of huge ship rats all about him.

Brave as the boy was who shall blame him if, for a few moments, he gave way utterly and shouted and raved at the top of his voice. But a calmer interval succeeded. That wonderful little lamp which we call hope, and which persists in lighting up the darkest places, still burned—though dimly—in Nat's heart.

"Come," he thought to himself, "giving way like a baby will do me no good. Perhaps some way will appear of escape from this situation. When I was Morello's prisoner in the fortress in the Sierras things looked almost as bad, but they came out all right in the end. All I can do is to keep on hoping, anyway. If it only wasn't for those horrible rats, I'd feel better."

The loathsome creatures scampered round Nat's feet and legs and occasionally he could almost feel them touch him.

"Scat!" he would cry out at such moments, but that only produced a temporary panic among the noisome vermin. The next instant they would be back again. And they grew bolder every time. It seemed to Nat almost as if they knew he was nothing but a helpless prisoner.

After what appeared ages of time had elapsed, the hatchway opened once more and Britt and Hicks reappeared. They brought with them two steaming dishes of food and a jug of water. Setting these down as they arrived at Nat's side, they loosened his arm bonds to allow him to eat. His legs, however, were still secured tightly to the stanchion.

"Don't see what the skipper wants ter give yer a thing ter eat fer," growled the man Britt, savagely glaring at Nat. "If I wuz him, I'd starve you to death."

"I don't doubt it," said Nat, cheerfully taking a long pull at the water pitcher. Then he proceeded to pitch into the two tin pans which proved to contain, one of them a sort of stew and the other some potatoes.

"If it hadn't bin fer you and them other whelps," snarled Hicks, "we'd a bin in ther Sierras right now, instid of bin aboard this old windjammer bound fer the South Seas. What's ther name uv ther place again, Britt?"

"Why, ther island is called Ho-dear-me, or some sich name. It's in the Mar-kiss-us group."

"Oh, dear me, eh?" snarled Hicks. "Wall, that'll be a good name fer it so far as this younker is consarned. I overheard Morello telling Dayton a while ago that he meant ter keep ther kid in suspense till we reached the island and then take his revenge on him in some novel sort of a way."

"And no more than he deserves, the sneaking, young cur," grated out Britt. "I'd keel haul him. That's what I'd do."

As may be imagined, this conversation interested as well as dismayed Nat. After he had finished his meal and the men, with curses, rebound him and then left the hold, he fell to thinking hard over what he had heard.

"Well, it's evident," mused Nat, "that Morello is seeking some safe asylum where he can hide from the long arm of the law. I guess from what those two fellows said the island he is bound for is some place down in the Marquesas Group, although what particular island Oh-dear-me, as they called it, can be I have no idea. If only I could see an atlas!"

As this thought flashed through his mind, Nat gave a sad smile. It had just occurred to him that if he could see an atlas, he would be free. He resumed his reverie. For one thing, by keeping his mind busy he managed to prevent himself from dwelling too much on the utter apparent hopelessness of his position, for another, it made the time pass more quickly.

One thing cast a ray of light into his gloomy state of mind, and that was that from what Britt and Hicks had said it seemed that he was not to meet his fate till they reached the island. Nat began to hope that between the present and that time some sort of opportunity to escape might present itself.

If only he could get some word to his friends, but that was an impossibility, so absolute as not to bear thinking about. No, whatever was to be accomplished would have to be carried out by Nat himself. That much was evident.

But a relapse came following his temporary accession of better spirits. How was he, a lad, alone among so many ferocious enemies, to accomplish anything? No, it was impossible. He had been a fool ever to think that there was a chance for him to escape. He would be slaughtered—perhaps tortured—he had heard of such things—by Morello and his men, and then cast into an unmarked grave in some desolate tropic isle. The thought was too much to bear.

"I won't die like that! I won't! I won't!" screamed Nat, in a perfect frenzy.

But he checked his outburst suddenly. A chill of horror crept over him. Was he beginning to lose his senses in the darkness?

For Nat could have sworn that through the gloom there had come a strange sound. The sound of a cautioning human voice. He strained his ears. Perhaps there would be a repetition of the sound. Yes, there it was again.

"Hi-i-i-s-t!"

"Who are you?" shouted Nat. "Are you a man, or am I delirious?"

"Donnervetter, I'm a man, all right," came the response, in a strong foreign accent; "undt up till lastdt night I voss captain. Budt who in der name of der great horn spoons voss you?"

"An unfortunate boy whom these rascals have made a prisoner and whom they are planning to kill," rejoined Nat, in an agitated voice.

"Voss," grunted the other; "dey is making prisoners of boys on my ship alretty! By Yupiter, I see vot I do aboudt dis if ever I get oudt uv dis scrape."

"Then you are in trouble, too?"

"You might say I voss in it up by mein ears alretty," was the doleful response; "but vait, I strike a light und den vee see each oder more betterer."

A scraping sound followed. Then came the sputtering glare of a match and that in turn was succeeded by the cheerful yellow glow of a candle. Oh, how blessed that light seemed to Nat and how thrice blessed the kindly, weather-beaten countenance that it illuminated, peering curiously at the tightly bound boy.

"So!" grunted the German gutterally, as his eyes fell on Nat's plight. "Der rascals treat you as badt as dey would have done me if I hadn't bin too much uv a sharpness fer them. Vait a minutes. I soon fix dose ropes."

He drew a big seaman's knife and rapidly slashed Nat's bonds. But the boy was so stiffened that he could hardly stand, even with his ropes off.

"Ach himmel! Dot is badt," muttered the other, looking at him concernedly. "Py der vay, I dond't tell it to you my name alretty yet. I vos Captain Nelsen."

"Captain Nelsen!" echoed the boy, in some astonishment.

"Yah, der captain uv dis schooner before dose rascals soak me by der headt und take her avay from me."

"Then you are a prisoner, too?"

"In a vay, yah; in annudder vay, nein. You see, dey is not much goot as navigatiners, dese loafers, so dey promise to spare my life if I work der schooner down to der Marquesasas for dem. Dey go to some island dere. I don't know yet yust vot island it vos."

"But how came you down here?" asked Nat, feeling very curious at this surprising turn of events.

For answer the captain raised one fat forefinger mysteriously.

"Hush," he said, "I dink me dot I findt out a vay to escape alretty."

As he spoke a sudden step sounded above them and the next instant the hatchway was jerked open by some unseen hand. Like a flash the captain puffed out the candle and in considerable apprehension Nat and his new-found friend waited in the pitch darkness for whatever was to come.

CHAPTER VII.

A DESPERATE PLAN.

But it proved to be only a false alarm. While Nat's heart beat till it shook his frame and he crouched back in the shadows and Captain Nelsen did the same they were not destined to be discovered that time. Whoever had raised the hatch contented himself with peering into the gloomy hold which, fortunately, was so dark that he could see nothing. Presently he slapped the hatch cover to again, and Nat began to breathe more freely.

"Hum dot vos an escapeness of der narrowness," commented the captain. "I dink me vee hadt bedder nodt light up der candle vunce more. Idt might leadt to dere finding us by der inside mit der hold."

Nat agreed with him.

"What did you mean when you spoke of escape just now?" he asked.

The captain sank his voice to a mysterious whisper and explained. As his explanation was somewhat lengthy, we shall not bother the reader by rendering it in the captain's dialect, but shall set it down in plain English as being less tedious.

Captain Nelsen then, after informing Nat of the events leading up to his chartering his schooner to a party of "scientists en route to the Marquesas," proceeded to elucidate how he came to be in the dark hold at such a lucky moment for Nat. Doubtless, because they felt he was entirely at their mercy, the invaders of the schooner allowed him to roam around as he would. In this way it had come about that when the captain pleaded sleepiness he had been allowed to retire to his cabin in the stern of the schooner without arousing suspicion in the mind of Morello.

But Captain Nelsen's cabin possessed a feature which, had Morello been aware of it, would have resulted in the skipper's sleeping quarters being changed. This feature was nothing more or less than a trap-door in the floor. This trap-door had formerly led into a specie room; for at one time the "Nettie Nelsen" had plied in Alaskan waters and not infrequently valuable shipments of gold were made on board her.

The specie room had, however, been long disused, and a door fitted in it which led into the upper hold in which Nat was confined. Captain Nelsen therefore no sooner found himself alone in his cabin than he opened this trap-door, having first pulled up the strip of carpet which covered it. This done he lowered himself into the specie room and thence emerged into the hold.

In doing all this he had, as may be imagined, an object. That object was nothing more or less than a daring plan of escape that had formed itself in his brain. Had he not been skipper and owner of the "Nettie Nelsen" he would never have thought of such a plan, for it hinged upon a forgotten feature in the schooner's construction—namely, an unused port situated in the overhang of her stern, and just beneath the main cabin.

This port—an opening some three feet long by four wide, had been made when the "Nettie Nelsen," among her numerous other employments, had plied in the lumber trade. It formed a convenient place to thrust long boards or planks through direct from the dock alongside which she might be lying, thus saving the labor of loading her holds by derricks. When steamships drove the "Nettie Nelsen" and her fellow sailing vessels out of the coasting lumber trade, the port had been closed. Several coats of paint now lay over it on the outside, but inside it was still possible to remove it and leave a big opening by turning some screws.

The captain had been in the act of investigating the port when he had heard Nat's despairing cry, which had alarmed him almost as much as his exclamation had startled Nat.

"Idt vill be dark in a short time now," confided the captain, as he concluded; "ven it is quiet dark I come down again und open der port."

"And then what?" asked Nat, his heart pounding excitedly.

"Und den ve eider get avay oder ve gedt in der soup vorse dan ever," declared the captain.

"But how? We cannot drop through the port and into the sea," exclaimed Nat. "Have you got life belts or something?"

"Ach," interrupted the captain impatiently, "I haf somdings better yet dan dot alretty. No, by Yupiter, ven ve go, ve go in style. Ve go in a boat."

"In a boat!" echoed Nat. "I must be very dense, captain, but you'll have to explain this thing to me some more."

"Very veil. I explins meinself more explicitly den. Der ship's boadt hangs on davits over the stern. Ven I go py der deck dis evening I yust careless like dangle down a rope over der taffrail—dot is if I gedt it a chance. Den ven ve open der port all ve got to do is to vait our chance undt den reach out for dot rope, swarm up idt und lower der boat. Aber den ve lower ourselves, und by daybreak der schooner be miles avay undt maybe some steamer or oder vessel bick us up. Dot is goodt scheme, yah?"

"It sounds all right, captain, but it fairly bristles with difficulties."

"Mein son," admonished the old seaman softly, "difficulties vos dings made to come over alretty. Und now, as your limbs are rested, I vill tie you up again so dot if any one comes down dey suspect noddings."

It was necessary for the captain to light his candle once more to perform this office. He did it with a sailor's celerity, chattering all the while.

"Now den," he said, when it was done, "I go back py my cabins. Den I votch a chance to drop dot rope over der rail. Now keep up a goodt heart, my poy, for if Got vills it so, ve vill be oudt of dis craft py midnighds."

At these words Nat could have shouted aloud for joy. Wild as the captain's scheme would have appeared to any one in different circumstances, to the boy—in his present desperate straits—it seemed far better than it had looked at first blush. In fact, the more he thought it over, the more inclined Nat was to think that, with a measure of reasonably good luck, they might be able to carry it through.

Some time later Hicks alone came below, and holding up a lantern gave Nat a casual inspection. It was fortunate that it did not enter his lazy mind to make it a more thorough one, or he might have detected that the ropes had been cut and then reknotted. But he was in a hurry to get back to a card game he had been enjoying when Morello had ordered him below, and after bestowing a curse on Nat he left once more.

"I hope nobody else takes a fancy to come below and examine me more thoroughly," thought Nat. "I wonder how the captain is making out. If all has gone well, he ought to have carried out the first part of his program by this time."

But it was some hours—to Nat it appeared years—before his newly found friend appeared once more. This time he boldly carried a lantern as he emerged from the doorway of the old specie room. He explained this seeming lack of caution by saying that Morello and Dayton had both turned in for a heavy drinking bout, and that most of the crew were befuddled also.

"Dere iss only der man by der helm to look out for, und I guess ve can take care of him," he said, as, for the second time, he loosed Nat.

"And now," said Nat, as he stood free, "what next?"

Captain Nelsen produced a wrench. It was only a small one—a nickled bicycle tool, in fact—but he said that it would do to unfasten the bolts of the port through which they were to creep on their perilous attempt.

It was hard work getting the bolts loose with the small tool. But at last it was accomplished. Nat with difficulty stifled a whoop of pure joy as, the last bolt having been removed, they cautiously worked the port out of its place and, through the opening thus revealed, they saw the stars shining softly above the vast, lonely Pacific.

"Aber, so far so goodt," breathed the captain. He reached out, and after some feeling about grasped a dangling rope. It was the one he had found an opportunity to drop down earlier in the night. Dragging it inside the port, he turned to Nat.

"Der next step you vill haf to dake," he said, almost in an apologetic tone. "I am nodt so young as I vos vunce, und I'm afraid dot I make some noise mit my stiff old joints ven I go climbing abodt."

"Of course, I'll go up after the boat," said Nat hastily, "but first tell me is the steersman near to the helm?"

"No, der veel of der 'Nettie Nelsen' is quiet a distance from der tiller," said Captain Nelsen. "I hadt it built dot vay pecose mit der veel over der tiller she steered badly. If you haf luck, der helmsman vill nodt see you."

As there was no use hesitating any longer Nat grasped the rope. First, however, he removed his shoes and stockings. This was both for greater ease in climbing and also so that he would not make any more noise than was necessary.

"Well, here goes," he said, as with the rope in his hands he reached the edge of the opening and prepared to wriggle through. But the captain stopped him. The old seaman held out his right hand. Nat, perceiving what he meant, clasped it in a fervent grip.

"Got pless you," said the captain, with some emotion in his gruff tones. "You are a prave poy."

The next instant Nat was through the open port, the captain extinguishing the lantern as the lad vanished.

Nat was a good and an active climber, but to climb a rope in a "gym" is quite a different matter to ascending one when it is dangling loosely from the stern of a plunging schooner ploughing her way briskly over a heaving sea under a smart breeze.

As his body came on the cable Nat was swung about like the weight on a pendulum. Below him boiled the white wake of the "Nettie Nelsen." Mustering every ounce of his strength, he began to ascend the rope. But the task was the hardest he had ever tackled. Swung dizzily hither and thither through space, the boy's brain reeled and spun. But he stuck to it pluckily and by dint of sheer hard, gritty work he at length managed to clamber as high as the break of the stern, and attain the level of the stern cabin windows.

But as he reached it something happened which came very nearly terminating the night's adventure then and there. A sudden lurch of the schooner, coming as Nat reached for the solid, wooden stern works, flung him violently outward at the end of the rope. For one instant he impended dizzily above the gleaming white wake of the vessel. The next he was dashed with stunning violence toward the stern.

As he was swung inward with terrific velocity Nat, more by instinct than anything else, let go with one hand and held the released member out in front of him with the idea of breaking the impact of the blow against the "Nettie Nelsen's" stern.

But instead of striking solid wood, his fist, to his surprise, encountered something yielding—the shade of the open cabin port, in fact. Before Nat could quite realize what had occurred he heard a deafening crash within the cabin itself as some glass or chinaware, which had been standing in the open port, was knocked to the floor when his fist struck the shade.

At the same instant from within the cabin came an angry shout:

"What in the name of old Harry was that?"

Nat hastily dropped some distance down his rope as he heard footsteps crossing the cabin floor. Evidently, whoever had uttered the shout, meant to investigate the cause of the accident. The shade was pushed aside and Nat saw a head thrust out. His discovery appeared inevitable.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW IT WORKED OUT.

What with the stunning effect of the blow he had received as he was swung against the schooner's stern works and the shock of the accident which had followed, Nat's senses almost left him for an instant. Like one in a dream he hung there, just under the swell of the vessel's counter and listened to the voices above him. They were Colonel Morello's and Ed. Dayton's.

"What in the name of Beelzebub was it?" he heard Dayton's harsh voice inquiring.

"I don't know. I could have sworn for an instant that I saw the flash of a hand through the window," growled out Morello—evidently from the nearness of the sound he still had his head outside the cabin port.

"Bah! How could that be?" scoffed Dayton from within, "unless the schooner is haunted. It must have been the last lurch she gave."

"That must have been it," agreed Morello, withdrawing his head, "but, at any rate, our supply of liquor was knocked off that shelf and the bottle broken. What do you say if we go forward and get some more?"

"The very thing," Nat could hear Dayton reply. The next instant he heard the slam of a door float through the open port above him and knew that the cabin must be empty.

Now was his time to act then, and fortunately for him, with his returning senses there had come a slight lull in the wind. The schooner was steadier, and by dint of pressing his knees against her structure when he climbed above the overhang of the stern he managed to ascend at a famous rate.

All at once he found himself opposite the cabin window once more. The blind or shade that his unlucky swing had knocked aside was now open, however, and he could plainly see the interior of the place. His curiosity quite overcame his prudence, as, steadying himself by pressing his feet into some scroll work contrived about the vessel's name on the stern, he gazed eagerly into the apartment which was lighted by a powerful hanging lamp.

But hardly had his eyes taken in the details of the place and observed that it was empty, Dayton and Morello having both departed to replenish the spirit bottle, before his eyes lit on something that made him start and hold his breath. In plain view within and right below the cabin window was the sapphire chest.

From his position Nat could almost by an effort have reached within and touched it. The sight of the plundered box raised within him a strange feeling of anger against the rascals who had stolen it. All fear seemed to drop from him like a garment. As he gazed one of those strange accessions of desperate resolve which come sometimes in moments of intense peril visited him.

"Why would it not be possible to regain the box, and, in the event of their plan being successfully carried out, take it with them in the boat?"

It seemed to Nat that hardly had the idea flashed into his mind before, impelled by some strange, irresistible resolve, he was within the cabin, having scrambled through the port, dragging his rope in with him. Barefooted as he was, he made no more noise than a panther tracking its game.

In the same noiseless manner in which he had entered the place he glided across the carpeted floor to the door leading on to the deck, by means of a companionway. Within it was a heavy bolt and massive chain, relics no doubt of the same epoch that had witnessed the construction of the specie room. It was the work of an instant to slip the bolt into place and then adjust the chain. This done, the lad was secure from interruption for a few moments at any rate. Even if he could not accomplish the feat of transferring the chest to the boat he could at least carry out a desperate resolve he had formed. This was no less than at all hazards to deprive the rascals of the benefits they had filched. Nat had determined that if he were discovered before he had had time to complete his work that he would heave the chest through the port and into the sea, thus losing the sapphire hoard to Morello and his men for all time.

But Nat had high hopes that he would have time to put through the plan of escape as he and Captain Nelsen had planned it out together. Slipping back across the cabin floor, he took the end of his rope and made a double half hitch around the chest, which, to his surprise, was not nearly as heavy as he had imagined it would be. This, however, he attributed to his excitement.

He had just completed this work and was about to heave the chest, with the rope attached, out of the port when something happened that seemed to drive every drop of blood in his body into his heart and then send it racing in a mad torrent through his veins.

Click!

This was the sound that had made Nat glance up from his work in time to behold one of the stateroom doors that opened off the cabin swinging ajar.

The next instant it was opened fully and the huge form of Swensen, the giant Swede, stalked out.

Nat was motionless as a frightened rabbit. In the dreadful crisis he was temporarily deprived of the power of crying out or moving.

Swensen's eyes fixed themselves on the boy with a peculiar expression, and in his bare feet—for he was in his night clothes—he began to advance toward him. Closer and closer he came and still Nat stood, held by a dreadful spell that bound his limbs and fettered his tongue—not indeed that it would have done him any good to have cried out.

But suddenly—just as suddenly as he had appeared—Swensen turned and in the same slow, deliberate way started back toward his cabin. It was then that Nat noted something that in his alarm he had not seen before.

The man was asleep!

He had walked out of his cabin in a fit of somnambulism, or sleep-walking, and now he reentered it again and doubtless climbed back into his bunk.

Hardly had his immense bony form vanished and the door clicked to behind him once more before Nat had the chest out of the port and then when it swung at the end of the rope, dropping like the weight on a plumb line, he followed it.

His rope was now much easier to climb, for it was steadied by the weight of the chest at its lower end. The length of the line was sufficient to allow the chest to dangle within a foot or two of the water.

With renewed courage Nat swarmed on up the rope and presently was able to poke his head over the taffrail. As Captain Nelsen had said, the helmsman, by reason of the peculiar steering device of the "Nettie Nelsen," was some little distance from the stern, forming an additional protection in the work that lay before him. Between Nat and the man at the wheel there was a big pile of canvas and boxes, apparently left there by some of the gang after they had ransacked the schooner.

At any rate, Nat managed to clamber up into the boat, which hung out on her davits, without attracting any attention from the man. Once in the boat, the lad took a swift look about him. At the helm was the steersman, a soft light thrown up on his rugged features from the binnacle. From forward some stentorian voice was roaring out a chorus. Nat devoutly hoped that the noise might keep up, for it was not to be supposed that he could lower the boat in absolute quietness.

All at once something happened that sent him crouching down in the bottom of the dingy. Morello and Dayton suddenly appeared on the stern. The former addressed the helmsman.

"We're in for some bad weather, Larsen. You'll have to stand an extra trick at the wheel, for all hands will be needed on the sails."

As he listened, Nat noticed what in his excitement he had hitherto overlooked. A remarkable change had come over the night. The stars were blotted out and the wind had fallen till it was almost a dead calm. In the lull the schooner rolled heavily, her sails flapping and her blocks cracking complainingly.

Suddenly off to the west a vivid red streak split the sky. It was followed after an interval by the heavy booming of thunder.

"I'll go below and call Swensen," Nat heard Dayton say.

The boy's pulses bounded. If Dayton carried out this resolve, it meant that he would discover that the cabin door was locked on the inside and suspicion would instantly be aroused. In the search which would certainly follow he would be discovered, and also Captain Nelsen. What their fate would be in such a case Nat dared not think.

But fortunately Colonel Morello vetoed this proposal.

"Let him have his sleep out," he said; "the storm won't be on us for some time yet, and Hicks can take care of the work of shortening sail."

"Well, how about that old sea horse, Captain Nelsen?" were the next words of Dayton. Nat's heart fairly stood still for an instant and then gave a terrified bound as Colonel Morello exclaimed:

"By Beelzebub, I had forgotten him. Go below and rout him out."

CHAPTER IX.

ADRIFT IN THE PACIFIC.

But hardly had Dayton started on the errand which would have spelled disaster to the hopes of Nat and his friend when something happened that, for the time being at least, put all other thoughts out of their heads.

There was a sharp warning shout from forward, followed by a splitting, tearing sound.

The schooner heeled sharply, throwing Nat the length of the boat in which he was concealed. A sharp puff of wind—hot as if from an opened oven door—swept over the sea and passed on. It left the air motionless as before, but it had stripped the schooner of her headsails as Nat could make out by the shouts and cries on her decks.

Utterly forgetting his duty in the emergency—indeed in the dead calm which had followed he was not of any particular use at the wheel—the helmsman followed Colonel Morello and Dayton as they bounded forward.

The moment to act had arrived. Rapidly Nat cast off the falls, belaying them around a cleat. Then he paid out on them and the boat dropped rapidly and noiselessly to the water. A moment later Captain Nelsen, who had been on the lookout, reached out for the dangling rope to the end of which the sapphire chest was attached. He caught it and slid into the boat with the dexterity of a seaman.

"Great Bull Whales, lad," he exclaimed as he landed in the little craft, "voss vos keeping you such a dime? You haf hadt me scared by mein death aind't idt. I dought me sure dot dey had caught you."

"What kept me, captain?" repeated Nat, in a breathless voice. "Just this."

He indicated the sapphire chest dangling just above them.

"Donnerblitzen, boy, vos iss dot? Provisions?"

"No, sir. It's the sapphire chest I told you about. The one that these scamps robbed me of."

"Ach himmel, undt you gedt it back. Poy, you iss a vounder, aind't idt? Budt don't told it to me aboudt it now alretty. Ledt me hear it later. Vee haf no time to lose."

Reaching up Nat cut the rope that held the chest suspended and exerting his strength lowered it into the boat.

"Now then, we're ready," he said, getting out the oars. "I think—hark!"

From the cabin port above them there came a roar—a bull-like bellow of rage. It was Swensen's voice. Evidently he had just awakened and discovered that the chest had vanished.

"Morello! Dayton!" they could hear him thunder out. "Der chest! Der chest bane gone!"

"Undt it's time dot vee bane gone, too," echoed Captain Nelsen. "Gif vay mit dose oars, ladt."

"Which way shall I pull, captain?"

"Any place avay from der schooner. Pretty soon dis be like vun hornets' nest, alretty yet."

Nat needed no urging, and began to propel the boat in a direction which was easterly, although he took no particular account of it. The sea hardly heaved and it had grown blisteringly hot. The schooner as they left her was wallowing in the heavy swell like a dead whale.

"Py Yupiter, dere go der firevorks," exclaimed Captain Nelsen, as more and more water showed between the schooner and the boat.

He was right; there were "fireworks" on board the "Nettie Nelsen." Swensen had burst from the cabin, first undoing the locks and bolts like an infuriated bull. It had not taken him long to communicate his tidings to Morello and Dayton. The discovery that the boat had gone almost instantly followed, giving those on board an easy clue as to how their prisoners had escaped.

"Shoudt avay! Shoudt avay!" grinned Captain Nelsen to himself. "Vee godt der only boat on board der 'Nettie Nelsen,' undt if you vant us, you got to schwim for us, by Yupiter!"

This was true. In the dead calm which prevailed it was obviously impossible to work the schooner even had her headsails not been in such sad disorder. But if they reckoned on getting off scot free, the two adventurers in the boat were sadly mistaken.

All at once the sea was illuminated with a glare as red as blood. The sudden flare came from the schooner's stern, where, by Morello's orders, a Coston light had been ignited. Nat had just time to see several figures with leveled rifles peering about for a sight of the boat when a bullet came singing by him. Another and another followed. But not one hit. Then the light died down and darkness fell once more.

Across the water they could hear voices on board the schooner distinctly.

"We'll never hit them by this kind of light," Dayton could be heard saying.

"Bah!" came Morello's response; "don't aim for them—aim for the boat and aim to sink it!"

Before either Nat or the captain had time to digest this alarming order another light flared up. Evidently the rascals had ransacked the locker in which the schooner's signaling apparatus was kept. This time it was a weird blue light that spread out upon the blackness of the night.

Following Morello's advice, the marksmen were now aiming for the boat itself. The bullets pattered like hail on the water about them. Suddenly there was a ripping sound and a shower of splinters flew about Nat, who was laboring gallantly at the oars.

"Apove der vater line," announced Captain Nelsen calmly. In the glare cast by the light the white wound on the gunwale of the boat could be seen distinctly.

"But it shows that they have our range," commented Nat. "The next one will do more damage."

The boy was right.

After a dozen more bullets had pattered about them, two missiles simultaneously pierced the side of the boat below the water line. The sea began to squirt in in two little fountains. But Captain Nelsen was prepared for just such an emergency. Pulling out his immense red bandanna handkerchief, he tore it into strips and plugged the holes.

A few seconds later the glare died down, and they were safe for the time being. Nat rowed desperately to get out of range before those on board the schooner could light another flare.

Whether he would have succeeded in this purpose, however, is destined not to be known. Hardly had the blue flare died out before the night was illuminated with an even more ghastly radiance. The lightning began a regular witch-dance to the westward of the schooner and the boat. It patterned the night sky like a bit of fine lacework.

It was well that they had that light by which to see and prepare for the peril that now menaced them. As it was, however, Captain Nelsen had barely time to shout a warning before another puff of the same hot wind as had assailed the schooner blew sharply over them. At the same instant Nat, looking up, espied coming toward the boat at a terrific pace what appeared to be a mountainous wall of white water. It roared as it came like a mighty waterfall.

All this, however, they had little time to note before they were in the midst of the vortex of water. By sheer instinct Nat dropped his oars and clung to a thwart as the wave rushed down on them. The next instant he felt him himself borne down by a crushing weight of water. The breath was fairly jammed out of his body, while tons of green water seemed to be above, about, and on every side of him.

At last, sputtering and gasping, he emerged into air again. But things were not as they had been before the passing of the mighty wave. The boat was now full of water to her gunwales and had she not been fitted with air chambers would inevitably have gone to the bottom. Nat was immensely relieved to hear the captain's voice beside him.

"Yumping Yupiter!" gasped that doughty mariner, clinging to the side of the submerged craft, "dot must haf been der daddy of all der vaves. Undt now look oudt for here comes der vind."

Hardly had he spoken before the sea was lashed into sudden fury. In the darkness they could see the white caps all about them. Horrified at this new calamity, Nat managed to shout out:

"Will the boat float?"

"Till der lasdt oldt cadt iss deadt," the captain assured him, in a hoarse shout; "as long as we can hold on we are all right."

"But we can't hold on indefinitely," objected Nat. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"It is one of dose Basific storms," rejoined the captain, "dot don't last so very long. Maype dis be all over in an hour or so."

Fervently hoping that the captain might be correct, Nat took a firmer grip on the gunwale. The boat, thanks to her air chambers, rode buoyantly enough, and if they could but retain their grip of her they were in no great actual peril of drowning. But even if they rode out the storm, there was the question of food to be considered—and water, too. Truly their predicament seemed wretched. But desperate as it appeared, Nat found his thoughts wandering to the sapphire chest he had risked so much to recover. Was it still in the boat, or had it been washed overboard when the storm wave overwhelmed them?

The lad was still cogitating this question when a shout from the captain startled him. He glanced up on the tossing and wind-torn sea and saw a strange sight.

Coming toward them on a tack that would bring her quite close to them was the schooner.

Even under half-bare poles as she was she seemed to be flying over the yeasty, tempest-torn seas. On and on she came, seeming to Nat's excited imagination, to be a hunted creature, pursued by the vengeance of the storm. It was as if nature, aroused by the misdeeds of the rascally crew the "Nettie Nelsen" now carried, was riding her down with the hounds of the wind and tempest.

CHAPTER X.

THE TIGERS OF THE SEA.

The storm-driven schooner drove past the swamped boat, with its two castaways clinging to it, in a smother of foam and spray. So fast was she traveling that hardly had her outlines loomed up before they were lost again in the darkness. Nat caught himself wondering if that night was to prove the last of the schooner's existence. But it may be stated here that the "Nettie Nelsen," staunch sea boat that she was, weathered the storm unharmed.

"Vell, here iss der vorst fix I voss ever in since I bin going py der sea."

It was Captain Nelsen who spoke, as a pallid and wild dawn broke over the raging sea, showing nothing but tossing whitecaps as far as the eye could reach. Overhead great torn ribbands of cloud were hurried by, their black outlines macerated by the wind which was still blowing hard. But rough as the sea still was and strong as the wind remained, there was no doubt that the fury of the gale was over. In a short time it would have blown itself out.

This was encouraging to the castaways, but even with calm seas their position would still have been a desperate one. Adrift on the trackless Pacific, without food or fresh water, and so far as they knew, far from the line of travel of ships, the man and the boy clinging to the waterlogged boat were in about as bad a fix as can be imagined.

Nat, too, strong as he was, began to feel the strain. The long period he had gone without food, for he had tasted nothing since the meal which Hicks and Britt had brought him, was beginning to tell on him. Captain Nelsen's iron frame, however, inured to hardship and peril, was as vigorous as ever, or so it seemed.

As the wind began to moderate he cast his eyes about for something with which they might bale out the "Nettie Nelsen's" boat. He was particularly anxious to get this task accomplished in order that they might have a sanctuary from danger which had just occurred to him. The thought of this new peril actually blanched the captain's weather-beaten cheeks, but a quick glance at Nat's worn countenance, white and lined with anxiety, told him that he had better not add to the strain on the lad by mentioning what had just crossed his mind.

The water was warm, fortunately, but even so Nat began to feel chilled and cold. This was partly due to the fact that he had taken no nourishment for so long a period. It was a symptom of exhaustion.

At length the sun rose, and as his rays gilded the tossing seas the wind began to die down till within a short time all trace of the storm had vanished. The sea grew smooth and the air hot. Captain Nelsen's first impulse was to look about for a sign of the "Nettie Nelsen," but not a trace of her was to be seen. She had vanished as utterly as the storm before which she was driving when they saw her last.

"Vell, dere vos some comfort in dot, anyhow," said the captain to himself; "dose murdering thieves von't get us even if der sharks——"

The sharks!

That was the peril of which Captain Nelsen had refrained speaking to Nat. As the above reflection crossed his mind, the honest German's eyes almost popped out of his head at the sight of something he perceived not far from the boat, moving aimlessly about on the now smooth water.

The object was a black triangular fin!

As he gazed it was joined by another and yet another, till there were six in all.

But at almost the same instant as the captain had sighted the sharks, Nat, who had been gazing down into the water which filled the boat in the hope of getting something to bale with, gave a cry of joy. In the bow, wedged in under a triangular brace, was a baling can belonging to the craft. And what to his eyes was almost as welcome a sight, farther back in the little craft and beneath a seat which had doubtless prevented it being washed overboard, was the sapphire chest. Nat's drooping spirits were considerably revived by these two discoveries, and he greeted the captain, who had looked up at the lad's cry of delight, with a feeble cheer.

"Hooray, captain! Never say die! With that can we'll have the boat baled out before long and——"

He stopped short as he caught sight of the seaman's doleful expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "True, we are not out of troubles yet, but with a good boat under us."

"Dot iss idt," returned the captain from his side of the boat. "How voss vee to get der boat under us?"

"Bale her out, of course."

"Budt she is now on a lefel mit der vater. Vot is der use of baling. As fast as vee bale out der Bacifig he come in."

"By George, that's so," agreed Nat, immensely crestfallen; "but see here," he went on, with a sudden flash of inspiration, "it's only our weight that keeps her level with the water. Yours particularly. Why can't we let go for a few seconds and swim at the stern while I bale out a few canfuls?"

"Dot vould be a goot idee if idt vossn't for vun ding," rejoined the captain, with a wry face.

"And that is?"

"Sharks!"

Nat shuddered as he heard the dread word.

"Sharks! Where?" he demanded.

"Here, there, undt everyveres," rejoined the German.

And now Nat saw what, but for his search for a baling can, he would have perceived earlier, and that was that the water about the boat was by this time fairly alive with the sea tigers. His heart sank with alarm and despondency. It seemed hard to be spared during the rigors of the storm only to meet this new and deadly danger.

"What are we to do, captain?"

"I don't know alretty," came the frank response. "Der only ding I can dink off is to get into der boat."

"Won't she sink?"

"No der air chambers will buoy her oop, budt at dot vee shan't be mooch bedder off."

"That's true," agreed Nat ruefully, "but in any event we shall be partially protected."

Acting on this idea, they clambered painfully into the boat; their limbs, however, were so stiff and cramped from their long immersion that this was a slow and tedious process.

It was accomplished at length, though, but their weight in the craft sank her even lower in the water so that they were almost waist deep in the sea as they clung to the thwarts.

The sharks had grown bolder, too, now. All about them they could see the flash of greeny-white bodies as the sea monsters slowly circled the boat, as if making up their minds from which side to attack it first.

"Beadt on der vater mit your hands," counselled the German. "Dose sharks iss pig cowards undt maype vee scare dem off for a vile."

Nat beat his hands furiously on the water, churning it into foam, and, as Captain Nelsen had predicted, the sharks—even the boldest of them—sheered off. But it was only for a short time. They presently reappeared and seemed to be bolder than before.

Nat gazed at them with frank alarm, and Captain Nelsen was scarcely less perturbed. Although they both beat on the water now and made all the noise they could, the sharks seemed to be growing less and less afraid of them. Nat could almost see a contemptuous gleam in the creatures' piggy little eyes as they swam round the boat.

All at once one of them, seeming to tire of this aimless circling, made a sudden dash at the craft. Nat fairly shouted with alarm and perhaps his cry scared the creature off. At any rate, they were saved for that time, but it grew very evident that before long a moment would arrive when they could no longer hold the creatures at bay.

It was just then that the captain gave a shout.

"Idiotcy dot I voss," he yelled, so that Nat thought he had lost his mind under the stress of their situation; "idiotcy dot I voss. Dere is somedings in dis very boadt dot vill drive dose fellows avay."

"What do you mean?" demanded the astonished Nat.

"Dot der last time dis boat vos used vos ven ve vos painting der ship sides. Ve didt not finish der chob before ve had to sail, undt a big can of acid vot vee use for cleaning off der oldt paint vos put in dot stern locker."

"In that box under the seat?" asked Nat excitedly, half guessing what the captain was driving at.

"Yah. Of you can reach it and der can is still dere, ve soon get ridt of der sharks. Ve poison der sea, by Yupiter."

"By pouring the acid into it!" cried Nat enthusiastically.

As he was the nearest to the stern of the submerged boat, it fell to him to open the locker and there, sure enough, was a big ten-gallon can of caustic acid. The boy dragged it out and extracted the cork. The pungent liquid was then poured on the waters about the boat.

Instantly the sea in the vicinity turned white as milk and they could see the sharks' bodies flash as they fled before the poisonous impregnation of the waters.

"Hooray!" shouted Nat, forgetting that even with the sharks gone they were almost in the same position as before, so far as hopelessness was concerned.

Almost at once, however, the realization overcame him. Adrift on the broad ocean, immersed to their waists in a sodden boat, what hope had they of rescue. In the extremity of his despair Nat groaned aloud. But his doleful exclamation was interrupted by the captain. That individual, who had been raising himself as high as he dared in the boat and gazing about over the sunlit, desolate waters, gave a sudden guttural shout, that was almost a scream:

"Look! Look!" he shouted, pointing. "Py yiminy, dere's a ship or I'm vun Dutchman!"

CHAPTER XI.

TRICKED!

Hardly willing to believe his ears lest the strain of disappointment should be too much for him in case the captain proved to be mistaken, Nat followed the direction of the excited mariner's pointing hand.

It was only by a severe effort of control that Nat saved himself from a collapse as he saw that it was not a case of a shipwrecked man's optical delusions.

Coming toward them from the eastern horizon was a craft of some sort. But she was, as yet, too far off to be made out as anything but a moving object. As she grew closer, however, it could be seen that she was without sails or funnel, and quite a small craft to be so far out at sea.

Nat, taking all this in with burning eyes, was struck at the same time by something strangely familiar about the craft. As she came on, doubt deepened into certainty. In a voice that shook under his effort to render it steady, Nat gave an amazed shout:

"The 'Nomad,' by all that's wonderful!"

"But will she see us?" This thought came on the top of his first glad recognition of the approaching craft. It was evident now that her course would bring the "Nomad"—or the vessel that Nat was sure he had recognized as her—past the castaways at some distance from them. They had no means of signaling and could not attract the attention of those on board. If, by any chance, she should go by without seeing them, Nat believed he should go mad. But to his joy as he and the captain in their half-sunken boat waved as hard as they dared, without disturbing the equilibrium of their craft, there came a puff of smoke and a sharp report from the bridge of the motor boat, where three figures could be seen.

It was a signal that they had been seen!

The "Nomad's" course was changed and she began to cut through the water directly for them, although of the surprise in store for them none of those on board Nat's craft was aware.

"Hoch der Kaiser, Nat!" shouted Captain Nelsen, in tremendous excitement. "Vee are safed, my poy! Vee are safed!"

"Donnerblitzen!" he exclaimed the next instant, for Nat, after breaking into a queer, trembly sort of smile and attempting to say something, had pitched forward, face down, in the water. For the first and last time in his life the overwrought boy had fainted.

Captain Nelsen reached forward his bulky form to pick Nat up, but as he did so, in the stress of the moment, he quite forgot the treacherous footing beneath him. His sudden movement caused the boat to lurch and in an instant he and Nat were struggling in the water—or rather it was the captain who was struggling, holding in his arms the inert form of the unconscious boy.

But luckily help was right at hand.

"Catch a line!" came a voice from above, as the "Nomad" swept down on the two in the water.

At the same instant a rope with a running noose in it snaked through the air, thrown by Joe Hartley, at whose side was Ding-dong Bell, while Cal was close beside them. It was Joe, whose trick at the wheel it was, who had first sighted the drifting, submerged boat. How the Motor Rangers came to be in that part of the Pacific will be explained before long.

Captain Nelsen deftly caught the rope as Joe rang the engine room bell for "stop-reverse."

The captain was, of course, a total stranger to the boys and to Cal, and who the bedraggled boy might be whom he held in his arms they had no idea. All at once, however, as the captain adjusted the line about the boy's body, Nat's face was visible.

"It's Nat Trevor!" shrieked Ding-dong Bell, his hesitating English, as usual, leaving him under the stress of the moment.

"So it is. Great heavens, what can he be doing here!" gasped Joe, his face a study in amazement and delight if ever there was one.

"Thank God, we've found him, lads," said Cal, reverently removing his sombrero, which he still insisted on wearing, even on board the "Nomad."

In less time than it takes to tell it both the captain and Nat were on board the gallant little motor craft, while an amazed ship's company gathered about them, all trying to talk at once. Captain Akers, who, after battling with the storm the night before, had been taking a nap below, was aroused by the hub-bub, and came on deck, and so did Sam Hinckley, who had been at the engines. So engrossed was everybody that the "Nomad," with her engines still reversed, was allowed to drift backward at her own sweet will.

The extraordinary recovery of the boy they believed to be either drowned, or in the hands of their relentless foes, temporarily deprived all hands of the power to do anything except exchange thunderstruck looks and exclamations.

Captain Akers lost no time, after the first stunning shock of amazement had passed, in getting some restoratives from the medicine chest in the cabin. In the meantime, Sam Hinckley had recollected his duty and, diving swiftly below to his engines, had checked their retrograde movement. Therefore, till new sailing orders came, the "Nomad" lay motionless on the long swells, while they all clustered about Nat on the bridge.

As for Captain Nelsen, his rugged constitution speedily rallied from the ordeal through which he and the lad had passed, and thanks to the influence of Captain Akers' remedies it was not long before Nat, too, was sitting up alert and in full possession of his faculties.

Then came his story. With what enrapt attention it was heard may be better imagined by each reader than set down in cold type. The extraordinary tale thrilled them as had few happenings in their adventurous lives.

At length, after such numerous interruptions as you may imagine, Nat concluded his strange tale. Then came the question of what to do. Clearly the schooner was bound for some island in the Marquesas Group—but just what spot of land was a question.

The only clew lay in Hicks's reference to the island of "Oh-dear-me." It was Captain Nelsen who solved the difficulty.

"Dot 'oh dear me' can be no odder island dan Odahmi," he said. "I know the place veil."

"What sort of a place is it?" asked Nat.

"Vell idt iss vun off der more remote islands of der group, undt ven I vos dere many years ago in a valer der vos nobody liffing on idt budt some natives."

"Then it is just the sort of place that Morello and his band would seek out," declared Joe. "They could lie snugly hid there for as long as they liked and emerge into the world at some distant date in comparative safety."

"Yes, if it wasn't for one thing," put in Captain Akers. "And that is that we happen to know their destination and can inform the authorities of it."

"That's so," agreed Nat, "but in the meantime you haven't yet told us how you came to happen along so opportunely."

"That is easily told, Nat, and after your narrative will seem very tame," rejoined Joe. "It appears, then, that while Sam was asleep on board, those rascals, knowing that the 'Nomad' was a menace to them, cut her cable and set her adrift on the outgoing tide. When Sam awoke he was miles down the coast. He lost no time in navigating back, much mystified in the meantime as to what could have happened to set him adrift. Of course, as soon as he had met us and we all compared notes and examined the cut end of the cable, it was as clear as day. With the 'Nomad' once more in our possession, we decided to set out at once in search of you, hoping that by hook or crook when the schooner struck the boat you had managed to save yourself. By good luck, after weathering that terrific gale last night, we ran across you this morning, but it was a close shave I can tell you, for you formed so inconspicuous an object on the ocean that we came near missing you."

"Ach himmel!" exclaimed Captain Nelsen.

"And now," said Nat, with a smile, "as I see that Sam Hinckley has secured the boat to the 'Nomad' with a line, I will ask him to pull her in alongside. I've got something on board there that will interest you all."

Nat had purposely thus held back the news of the recovery of the treasure chest so as to give his companions a real surprise.

"Wh-h-h-h-hat can it be?" wondered Ding-dong.

"You'll soon see," said Nat, with a smile. "Now then," as Sam Hinckley drew the half-sunken boat alongside, "just oblige me by looking down into that boat and telling me what you see under the middle seat."

He paused with twinkling eyes and the air of a conjurer. The others eagerly enough lined up at the bridge rail and peered down overside. The interior of the boat was visible, as if seen through glass in the translucent water.

"Well?" said Nat smilingly, after a moment.

Joe drew a long breath.

"It—it—looks like the sapphire chest," he gasped. "Oh, Nat!"

The others merely looked their astonishment. In a few rapid words Nat supplied that part of the narrative of their escape dealing with the recovery of the chest, and which he had up to that moment purposely omitted.

"And now, boys," he concluded, "let's get a line over and hoist her on board. I, for one, am dying to feast my eyes on the sapphires once more and gloat over the way we've fooled those scoundrels of Morello's."

Sam Hinckley slipped over the side and soon made fast a turn around the box. How many pairs of willing hands hauled that box on board I leave you to imagine.

At last, dripping with water, there it stood on the bridge. They gathered about it half awesomely. There was something in its eventful history that gave pause to their somewhat noisy merriment. Silently they stood about, gazing with burning eyes while Nat fitted the key which he still carried. The lock was a simple one of old-fashioned make, and opened easily.

The young Motor Ranger swung back the lid with a gesture.

There, spread out over its precious contents was the same bit of canvas that they had placed there before the treasure chest had been filched. Nat's pulses beat a bit faster as he raised one corner of the canvas and prepared to disclose once more to their view the wonderful contents that lay beneath.

He raised it with a sweeping gesture and an exclamation of triumph which changed midway to a shout of dismay.

The box contained no precious sapphire hoard!

In place of the gem-bearing rocks, which they had expected to meet their gaze, the group on the bridge stared into a box filled with old bits of iron ballast, ropes ends, damaged blocks, and other bits of marine odds and ends.

Colonel Morello had tricked them.

In the place of the blazing sapphires, the box held nothing but so much worthless old junk!

CHAPTER XII.

A MENACE OF OLD OCEAN.

"Gone!" exclaimed Joe Hartley, in a hollow voice.

"Ker-ker-ker-clean ger-ger-gone!" stuttered Ding-dong Bell.

"The scoundrels," ground out Captain Akers through clinched teeth.

All had some exclamation of anger or dismay to contribute. Such a completely dumfounded ship's company was never afloat on the Pacific, surely.

"I see it all now," burst out Nat suddenly, "Morello and Dayton could not trust even their own men, so they removed the sapphires from the chest and concealed them elsewhere, all the time leaving the chest in plain view so as to create the impression that all was open and above board. Oh, the rascals! They cannot even be fair and square with their own associates."

The boy stopped short. He was overcome with chagrin at the thought that he had risked liberty and life for the sake of an utterly worthless chest.

For some time they could think or talk of nothing else. It was Captain Akers, who, with his good, solid common sense as usual to the fore, brought them up with a round turn.

"No use crying over what can't be helped, boys," he said briskly. "The question now is—what are we to do?"

"What indeed," repeated Joe, in a sadly puzzled tone.

Nat did not speak. Half crazy with mortification over the way in which he had been fooled he stood gazing out over the trackless void of the sunny Pacific.

"Well, my suggestion is this," said Captain Akers: "Let's take after the rascals."

"Pursue them!"

The exclamation came from Nat, and, although it chimed in well enough with his wishes just then, somehow the blunt way in which the daring proposal had been made had startled him.

"That's the idea," rejoined Captain Akers, "we know where the beggars are bound for. Captain Nelsen and myself are both good navigators. We have plenty of gasolene on board, and, anyhow, if the worst comes to the worst, the 'Nomad' can proceed under sail. Come, what do you say?"

A long discussion followed, for what they were about to consider was not a project to be lightly rushed into. Perhaps if they had not been so wrought up over the discovery that the chest was empty, they would never have entertained the idea for an instant. But, in their then frame of mind, to overtake the rascals of Morello's band and deliver them over to justice was their chief and burning desire. It was Captain Nelsen then who clinched the argument by saying:

"Dere iss a French court of law, undt an American consul, in der Marquesas. Vee needt nodt take der madder into our own handts. Ledt us follow dose no-gooters oop undt ven vee logade dem vee can communicade mit der authorisers. Vee both have haf a lodt to gain. I vant my stolen schooner back. In yust der same vay you vant your sapphiras."

"Yy-y-you are n-n-n-no An-an-an-ananias when you say that," struck in Ding-dong. "We certainly do want our sapphiras."

And so the matter was decided. It was then high noon and the two captains both "shot the sun" with Captain Akers' instruments and then the latter went to the cabin to work out their observations on the chart and lay a course for Odahmi. In the meantime, Sam Hinckley was ordered below to the engines and the "Nomad" was sent ahead on a direct westerly course till a proper one could be laid out.

Before starting, however, the boat, which had played such a prominent part in the escape of Nat and Captain Nelsen, was cut loose and allowed to go adrift. The "Nomad" carried a boat of her own, on davits, besides two collapsible ones, so that the little craft would have been of no use to her company.

With Joe at the wheel, and Ding-dong in the galley cooking up a hasty dinner, the start was made. But neither Nat nor Captain Nelsen heard the "go-ahead" bell ring, for they both, thoroughly exhausted by recent events, were sound asleep on two of the Pullman berths.

Some half an hour later Captain Akers had completed his final calculations and came on deck with instructions for the man at the wheel. As it so turned out, the course on which they had been sailing was not so very much out of the way of the corrected one, so that, after all, they had not lost much headway.

"At this rate, with decent luck, we ought to overhaul that schooner of yours before many days have passed," observed Captain Akers to Captain Nelsen that evening when they were all out on the deck after supper, enjoying the cool breeze that swept toward them from the westward.

"In that case what will we do?" wondered Nat; "board them and give them a fight?"

Captain Akers laughed.

"I'd like to, just as well as you boys would," he said; "but I don't know whether it would be a wise plan. No, my idea, if you don't mind hearing the suggestion of an old sailor, would be to reach the islands first and head the schooner off. In that case we can have a French gunboat—for the islands belong to the French—or, at least, some sort of a government craft on hand to give the rascals the welcome they deserve when they arrive."

"I ker-ker-can suggest a g-g-g-g-good—Phwit!—bit of jewelry for Colonel Morello if you wish to make him a gift when we meet again."

The remark came from Ding-dong whose trick it was at the wheel.

"Well?" asked Joe.

"A p-p-p-p-p-ppair of ster-ster-steel bub-bub-bracelets," rejoined Ding-dong in such a droll voice that they all had to laugh.

"Well, this has been a scorching day and no mistake," observed Captain Akers, when the laugh had subsided; "almost too sultry for these latitudes at this time of year. I hope we are not in for a spell of more bad weather. The last time I looked at the barometer it puzzled me by the way it was acting."

"How do you mean?" inquired Nat.

"Why, from my experience at sea I should say that it betokened the near presence of some remarkable phenomenon, such as frequently occur on the Pacific."

"There is a funny kind of feeling in the air for a fact," said Nat.

It had suddenly fallen a dead flat calm, and the "jiggle" of the "Nomad's" steadily working propeller was the only bit of motion observable on the unrippled ocean.

Captain Nelsen said nothing, but contented himself with gazing over toward the western horizon, where the sun was setting in a blaze of purple and gold magnificence.

"I dond't like der look of dot sunset," he said presently; "it looks to me like——"

"Why, what's that thing away off there?" cried Joe, suddenly pointing toward the sunset.

They all looked in the direction he indicated and could make out plainly enough, against the glowing panorama, a queer, waving pillar of darkness. It looked like a long, thin cloud set on end.

As they gazed at it, it waved tremulously, and beyond the shadow of a doubt it grew larger.

"It looks like one of those dust devils we see at home, only a hundred times as large," said Joe.

Captain Akers, whose face had suddenly grown very grave, spoke up.

"That's just what it is, Joe," he said; "a huge dust devil. That thing yonder is a waterspout. It's coming this way. I hope it does not strike us or——"