CHAPTER XI

There was not a sign of the dinghy. The schooner lay still in a pool of colourful water, the coral and weeds on the bottom in plain view, some of the swaying plants magnified by refraction. There was no air stirring, and from the far end of the island a morning haze was rising like smoke from flats which appeared to be salt marshes.

Trask filled the basin at the water butt and washed his sticky face. Doc, who evidently was astir before the cook, became emboldened by the fact that Trask was up, and rattled the dishes in the galley with recklessness. Trask cautioned him when he came out with the cup and proffered the impromptu breakfast.

"Have you heard anything?" he asked, as the steward stood beside him, loath to go back to his duties.

"Me? Lordy, no, Mr. Trask! We been just lak' a buryin' ground! It gives me the creeps to have things so daid."

"Seen anything of the boat?"

"Boat?" Doc rolled his eyes, puzzled.

"Go in and get breakfast," said Trask, passing the cup back, and went along forward to learn what Jarrow had to report.

"Not a sight of 'em," said the captain, who appeared to be as fresh as if he had slept all night.

"That's queer," said Trask. "I thought they'd try to sneak back during the night. What can they be up to? You don't think they've abandoned us entirely?"

"Now ye got me," said Jarrow. "I guess Peth's crazy in his head. He's got 'em all buggy on this gold business, far's I can see. All right, let 'em stick to Peth."

"But they'll starve," said Trask. "Suppose they did find gold in piles? What good would it do them? They'd have to beg to be taken back aboard here, wouldn't they?"

Jarrow blew into his coffee, gulped some of it, and raised his eyes in utter dejection to look over at the island. The schooner lay with her head to the northeast in response to a current that came around the northern end of the island and almost parallel with it.

"When people are out of their heads, no knowin' what they'll do," declared Jarrow. "Peth, he's always for makin' money in heaps. He can't see beyond his nose. Now I'm for goin' safe and sure. You ain't got no idea how he's bothered me off and on for the last couple years. But I had to humour him—he owns an eighth of the Nuestra."

"He can't have much sense if he thinks gold's to be sacked up and carted away," said Trask. "Here's Mr. Locke."

"Looks like this ought to be a good place to fish," said Locke, coming forward. He was wearing an old suit of white, but had on tan shoes, as if he expected to go walking, and a shirt open at the neck. His nose was peeled from sunburn, and he stroked it gently.

"What's going on?" he demanded, seeing that Jarrow and Trask were serious-faced, each waiting for the other to speak. He looked about the decks questioningly.

"The devil to pay," said Jarrow.

"Crew's gone," said Trask.

"Crew! Gone! Where?"

"Jumped the ship in the night with the dinghy," said Jarrow.

"Say, what's the joke?" inquired Locke, blankly. "You two look as though there was to be a hanging. Come on—spring it!"

"I wish it were a joke," said Trask.

"The truth is, Mr. Peth and the crew left last night with the small boat."

"Gone to a dance, or something, I suppose," said Locke, still in doubt about the motives of the captain and Trask.

"Maybe," said Jarrow, wearily rising, to yawn into the sun's face.

Locke stared at Trask, and finally realized that he was serious. "Gone to the island?" he asked.

"Mainland's over there," said Jarrow, turning and pointing over the starboard quarter. "You got two guesses. I'll bet on the island."

Trask now looked in the direction indicated by the captain and saw a low-lying ridge, barely perceptible in the morning sun, lifting out of the horizon. It was merely a dark streak against the edge of the sea's brilliance, dividing sky and water.

"Well, that's a fine note," said Locke. "What do they think they're getting paid for? To go away on marine picnics?"

"If they come lookin' for pay, we're lucky," said Jarrow.

"Now, captain, let's get down to cases," began Locke, with a look at Trask which indicated that he was done with temporizing with Jarrow. "What are you going to do?"

Jarrow looked at him quickly, as if surprised, and made a grimace.

"What do ye expect me to do?" he demanded, with a show of temper in his voice.

"We'll start for Manila in an hour unless the crew's back aboard. Can't you give 'em a signal of some sort?"

"Sure," said Jarrow. "I can run the Blue Peter to the fore truck. I'm ready to go now—if you'll start whistlin' for a wind." He wet the tip of his finger on his tongue and held it up.

"You take it all-fired calm," said Locke. "What's the idea? Are you going to sit down and wait for the crew to make up their minds to work?"

"They've probably gone to the island to find gold," said Trask, who realized that Locke had not grasped the situation fully. "It looks as if they won't attempt to come back."

"Oh, that's the game, is it?"

"Looks like it," said Jarrow.

"Very well," said Locke, grimly. "I'll look to you, Captain Jarrow, to carry out the terms of our agreement."

"What ye drivin' at?" demanded Jarrow.

"This: Your pay by the day for schooner and crew is for a definite purpose—to visit this island for exploration purposes, and to have in our employ a certain number of men. If we have to go back to Manila without accomplishing the business, or lie around waiting on the crew, it'll be out of your pocket. It's up to you, captain."

"You say I don't git no money at all if we have to go back?" Jarrow's colour heightened, and his eyes flashed angrily, but he held a certain restraint over his voice.

"What I say and what I mean."

"There ain't no law that compels a master to guarantee against mutiny," said Jarrow, and began to chew a biscuit reflectively.

"Mutiny!"

"My mates have jumped ship with the crew. That's mutiny."

"You expect them to make trouble for us?"

"I look for anything with that gang," said Jarrow. "Peth he's a bad one when he gits started. So are all them chaps with him. But as I see it, they'll be back here in no time. If they don't find gold we'll have 'em back on our hands. So there ain't no great hurt done."

"But if they do find gold?" suggested Locke.

"They might walk on gold and not know it," said Trask. "If they are looking for a fortune in fifteen minutes, I doubt if they'll find it, and they'll like the looks of this schooner pretty well."

"My idea exactly," said Jarrow, with a grin. "We might as well take this as a joke. If they ain't back by the time we have breakfast, I'll take a run over to shore in the long boat and see 'bout huntin' 'em up. You folks go aft, and let me handle it. I'll see it smoothed over. We don't want to start back for Manila short-handed if we can help it. What's the odds, if they are a passel o' fools?"

"Perhaps you're right," said Locke. "It wouldn't look very well for us if we went back to Manila and left them here."

"I'll tell you what you do, captain," said Trask. "Take a run ashore, as you said, and bring me back a bucket of that sand."

"I thought yould like to go over with me," said Jarrow.

"No, I'll stick by the schooner until this hitch with the crew is straightened out."

"Maybe Mr. Locke'll want to go?"

"Not for me," said Locke. "Marjorie'll want to go when I do, and I don't want to have anything said about what's turned up. You take Dinshaw."

"I'll need two men to row," objected Jarrow. "I might take the old fellow and the cook."

"We'll keep the cook," said Trask. "We can spare Doc Bird better."

Jarrow agreed, and suggested that he start at once, so Doc Bird was called and told to summon Dinshaw, and they set about throwing off the gripes of the waist boat and got it over the side with jury tackle in short order.

"I'll take a look about and see if we can find where they made a landin'," said Jarrow.

"You'd better come right back, this trip," said Trask. "It's important that I get some of that sand under the microscope or cook a little of it."

"Cook it?" asked Jarrow, puzzled.

"Certainly. I'll be able to tell in fifteen minutes whether there's a sign of gold on that beach."

Dinshaw came out, in great glee over an immediate landing on his island, and could scarcely be restrained from climbing over the side and into the boat long enough to have his coffee.

As the final preparations were being made for the departure of the boat, Marjorie appeared, clad in khaki, with a short skirt and heavy shoes.

"I'm all ready," she cried, thinking that everybody was embarking.

"We're not going yet," said Locke. "The crew's ashore, and the captain's going to do a little reconnoitering before we leave the schooner. We'll go right after breakfast, though, if everything's all right."

Doc was all agrin, and regarded the early trip ashore in the nature of a lark, and cast aside his white coat, to help row in his resplendent sweater, while the cook went about laying the table for breakfast, his round yellow face devoid of any interest in what was going on.

It was decided that Dinshaw should steer, which tickled him mightily, and Captain Jarrow plied an oar himself.

"Keep a good look-out," warned Jarrow, as they shoved off and began to pull toward the land.

"You bet we will," said Trask, gaily. "Don't go above high-water mark for that sand, but fill the bucket from any dark spots you can find."

"Captain Dinshaw'll simply die of joy," said Marjorie. "I'd hoped we might all go together and see him land."

"You'd better put your hat on, Marge, or you'll have a skinned nose," said her father. "We'll be right in to breakfast."

"There's some hocus-pocus about this," whispered Trask, as he and Locke moved forward for a private talk.

"What do you make of it?"

"Jarrow's in on the deal with the crew. That's why I wanted him out of the way for awhile so we could figure things out. I believe that Dinshaw did hear them say they intended to steal his island. Peth or Jarrow got my gun, but Jarrow thinks we've three more between us. I told him last night you had two. He wants to get us separated."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Locke, aghast. "You can't mean they want to put us out of the way!"

"I wish I knew what they wanted to do," said Trask, speaking rapidly, and keeping his eyes on the boat which was making good headway toward the shore. "But I believe we're in serious danger, and I don't see now what's to be done."

"Jarrow is a fool," said Locke.

"More of a rogue. He's far more clever than we realize. I'm sure now he signalled to Peth last night with the lantern, when I was out here trying to see what the crew were about with the dinghy."

"Then you knew it last night?"

"Yes. I found Jarrow out here on the forecastle head. First he lit a cigar, which I suspect was a caution, then he shook the lantern, probably to indicate that their absence was discovered, and then he put the lantern out. He said it was so they couldn't find their way back in the dark, but now I'm sure it indicated that not only was the party known to be gone, but that their motives were suspected. What's more, I'm sure he's had Doc Bird spying on us—at least on me. Just as sure as I move that black is at my heels, as full of questions as a rose is of thorns. We want to be mighty careful with the cook, too."

"We're sure in a pickle," said Locke. "If there were any wind I'd be for getting out now and leaving Jarrow and all hands."

"My idea, too. But you'll notice he has the schooner well in behind the barrier reef, and unless we had a ripping good breeze, we'd pile up, or one of the boats would overtake us before we'd have the jib set. Of course, if we got out, it would be easy enough to make for the mainland, or with good weather keep down the coast until we reached some town or came up with some vessel. But as it stands, we've got to play the game out with Jarrow."

"What the dickens he expects to do, or make out of this sort of performing is beyond me," said Locke.

"Probably find a lot of gold and send us back to Manila in the hope of cheating Dinshaw out of it. I expect they'll be disappointed if it's gold in any great quantity they're after."

"But why should he and Peth be plotting together when they're at outs?" asked Locke.

"It may be that Jarrow favours Peth's scheme, and now wants to get in with him. I don't doubt they could make up their differences if it came to a question of hoodwinking us."

"Oh, sure. I don't know whether this is all funny or dangerous but we seem to be in the hands of a lot of fools, and that's no joke. If it wasn't for Marge, I wouldn't worry."

"Dad! Aren't you two coming to breakfast?" Marjorie called from the door of the cabin, and then seeing the boat approaching the shore, went to the bulwark and watched them make a landing.

They saw Doc jump out and pull the boat up on the shingle a few feet, and Jarrow hopped out after him. Dinshaw could be seen crawling forward, and went into the water up to his knees and ran up the beach to fall forward and plunge both hands into the sand in an ecstasy of joy. Those in the schooner could hear his high-pitched voice as he cackled gleefully.

Then they saw him talking with Jarrow, and pointing to seaward over the reef, and evidently going over the details of how he came ashore from the Wetherall, and where the bark struck.

Doc stood near by, listening, and kicking the sand with one foot. Jarrow made a gesture to him, and the steward went back to the boat and brought a bucket, which he began to fill with sand close to the water's edge.

Jarrow put his hands up to his face, to make a trumpet, and called loudly for "Mr. Peth" several times. His voice was thrown back from the hill over the water in long-drawn echoes that died away in the murmur of the gentle surf breaking on the other side of the point and along the backbone of the main reef.

"For all the world like paging a gorilla," chuckled Locke. They went aft and stood by Marjorie, and Shanghai Tom looked out from the cabin door, white-capped and white-aproned, and a trifle bored.

Jarrow moved up nearer the rim of the jungle, and was rendered almost invisible to those on the schooner against the glittering white sand.

Doc put his bucket in the boat, and stood by the bow, looking after the captain. Once he turned toward the schooner, and waved his hand. Dinshaw was moving toward the point slowly, head bent, making a careful examination of the shore, stooping now and then to pick up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers.

"Look—over beyond Captain Dinshaw—in the brush!" said Marjorie, pointing.

A figure in blue emerged cautiously from the tangle of green shrubbery some hundred yards to the right of Jarrow—Peth, in a suit of dungarees. He stepped out into the sand and stood with his arms akimbo, watching Jarrow, who was looking in the other direction.

Presently Jarrow turned and saw Peth, and started toward him slowly, apparently in some doubt as to the attitude of the mate toward him. When he had advanced to within twenty feet of Peth he stopped, and from his gestures, he seemed to be talking. At times he looked over his shoulder toward Dinshaw, and pointed out to the schooner as if ordering the mate to return on board.

Peth kicked the sand but made no move to obey. Jarrow drew nearer, and his hands became more eloquent, as if he were arguing with Peth to bring the crew back and return to duty. Dinshaw, now well up to the point, went on with his explorations, and gave no heed to Jarrow and Peth, if, indeed, he had seen them at all.

Jarrow turned to the shore and called something, and Doc went across and stood near by while the pair continued their conversation. Dinshaw heard the summons, and looked back, but had no interest in what was going on, for he resumed his trudging, stopping frequently to look about him as if searching for some landmark.

The parley between Peth and Jarrow lasted several minutes, and then other heads and shoulders appeared in the brush, peering out. Jarrow's voice, raised threateningly, reached those in the schooner in a rumbling sort of growl, although they could not distinguish his words. He appeared to be exasperated that his crew should stand about in the jungle and refuse to obey his orders.

Finally Jarrow waved his hand to Doc, and turned to follow the steward, when Peth ran forward, and stepped between Jarrow and Doc. He whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the captain.

The others came out of the brush at this, and Doc took to his heels, running for the boat like a deer.

Jarrow put his hands up, and roared out something angrily to the effect that he'd "settle this business if it cost him his life," and as the crew closed in around him he shouted wildly toward the schooner: "Mutiny! Mutiny!"

Doc reached the long boat and making frantic efforts to push it off finally got it afloat, and with an oar shoved it into deep water and began to scull it out rapidly, making a zigzag course for the schooner.

"Can you beat it?" demanded Locke. "They've taken Jarrow prisoner! Now we are in for it!"

CHAPTER XII

"What was that all about?" demanded Trask, as the steward, breathing hard and to every appearance terror-stricken, brought the long boat alongside the schooner.

"Lordy me!" he gasped, his eyes white and rolling. "They shore messed up things this yer time!" He quit sculling and stood up in the stern of the boat, allowing it to make the distance which separated it from the schooner by its own momentum.

"But what did they say?" demanded Locke.

"It's Mr. Peth," said Doc, and turning, looked ashore. "He's got the skipper up a tree. Ah tell yo' all that man Peth, he's a danger! Yassir!" He made the boat fast, and scrambled up the ladder and over the side.

"Now," said Trask, "tell us everything that you heard."

"Mr. Trask, fo' Gawd, if you'll slip me a gun, I'll go back en blow dat man's haid off'n his neck! Mr. Peth he don't need to think he's goin' do no foolin' round with me, no, suh! I'm jest as mean as anybody when I'm stirred up, en I'm mad to mah marrer! If I'd had a gun——"

"You're more of a sprinter than a shooter, if I'm any judge," said Locke. "Never mind what you'll do. What did you hear?"

"Well, suh," said Doc, scratching his head, "I was a just sort of circulatin' 'round when I filled that bucket. I wanted to see what Mr. Peth was projectin' about wid the skipper, so I jest aidged up, closer en closer, when the cap'n he call me to shuffle along.

"They was a-talkin', kind o' low lak'. Mr. Peth he was a-sayin' how they all been fooled 'cause there ain't no gold on the island nohow. How they done dug en dug, but nary any gold. And Mr. Peth he 'lowed he was there for gold, and not a-gitten' any, he was goin' to be paid, en paid big, en all hands wanted a batch o' money. He said nobody comin' back here nohow, en how Jarrow'll have to stay there with 'em ontil they was paid.

"De old man he 'lowed he ain't no bank on wheels, and Mr. Peth he say back he don't care whar de money come f'om, he's gwine have it, en he slash up wid a gun en say to come along, en come quick. Then the others come out o' de woods, lookin' mighty mad, en I says to mahse'f, 'Doc Bird, this ain't no place for you to be circulatin' 'round, not if yo' wants fo' to die of old age,' so I jump fo' de boat."

"So it's a hold-up," said Locke, looking at Trask.

"You've got it," said Trask. "They set out to get gold, and can't find it. Now they think we'll pay them a good price to get out."

"We'll get out without any help from them," said Locke.

"You better not go pullin' up no anchors in this pocket," advised Doc, as he saw Locke look over the bows speculatively. "Yo' all would go smack on that yer reef, the way the tide's got a set."

"How much do they want?" asked Marjorie, who was more amused than worried at the way things had turned out.

"You'll have to ask Mr. Peth," said Doc.

"You get in the boat and go back ashore and get Dinshaw," said Trask. "If you see any of the crew, simply say we'll take the matter of paying them extra under advisement when we know what their idea is."

"Mr. Trask," said Doc, solemnly, "I'll go back if you give me a gun. I ain't 'fraid of no man what stands on two laigs if I got shootin' things. But I ain't goin' back with my bar' hands, for Dinshaw nor the 'Postle Paul, no, suh!"

"Oh, you want a gun, eh?" said Trask. "I'll bet you couldn't hit the island from here with a gun."

"Show me the gun," said Doc, eagerly. "I was in the army, if yo' all want to know. I got medals, yes, suh!"

"All right," said Trask. "Go in and serve breakfast and I'll give you a gun. Then we'll see what you can do."

Doc made for the cabin, and Shanghai Tom followed him, to whisper in the galley about what had happened.

"We'll be in in a minute," said Trask, and with a knowing smile Marjorie left the deck. Trask and Locke strolled forward.

"What do you think of it?" asked the older man.

"It's a mad scheme on the face of it," said Trask. "That's why I wouldn't undertake to say how it will turn out. But there's one thing I'm sure of."

"What?"

"The steward is crooked. He's too anxious to find out how many guns we have and too anxious to go back ashore. He's a spy."

"Then we wouldn't be wise to attempt to get the schooner out with his help," suggested Locke.

"He doesn't want us to try it, that's plain," said Trask. "I've an idea to test him out. It'll take a little time, but we might as well set out to see who's who in this crowd."

"That gang ashore'll try to get back here," said Locke, looking over at the island. "They can't live on sand and water."

"Come to breakfast," said Trask. "Just leave things to me, and talk about our guns. We've got to give the impression that we're a young arsenal."

They passed into the cabin, and Trask took the occasion to slip into the galley while Doc and Tom were absent, and lifting out an old rat-tail file, which the cook used to sharpen his knives on, slipped it up the sleeve of his jacket.

They sent Doc out on deck to keep watch and Trask ordered him to get the bucket of sand out of the boat.

"Don't you feel worried about this, Miss Trinkets," said Locke, as Marjorie looked up doubtful.

"Do you think it's serious, Dad?" she asked.

"Serious! Not at all! We'll get out of here as soon as there's a breath of air, and leave that wild lot to themselves."

"But poor old Dinshaw," she said, "and Captain Jarrow—what's to become of them?"

"We'll have to get Dinshaw, of course," said Trask. "I'll take Doc and go for him at once with the boat." He drank his coffee hastily, and went out on deck. He disappeared into the forecastle and was below for several minutes.

"Do you think you ought to risk going ashore?" asked Locke, when Trask returned with the bucket of sand.

"I don't believe they'll bother me," said Trask, and calling to Tom to bring him a frying pan, he measured out two or three cupfuls of sand and spread it carefully in the pan.

Then, to the amazement of all of them, he put the pan on the galley fire, and calling Doc, told him to watch the sand, and when it got well heated, to call him.

"Cookin' sand!" exclaimed Doc, with a suspicious look at Trask. "Ah never did hear of such a thing! What fo' yo' doin' it, Mr. Trask?" He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he doubted the young man's sanity.

"I believe there's gold in it," said Trask, simply. "And if there is, we'll find it by heating the sand and then cooling it with water quickly. See those dark grains? The heat will melt the gold which you can't see, and run it together, and then the cold water cracks away the shell of sand, and your gold particle can be washed out."

"Beats me!" declared Doc, scratching his woolly head, but he went to the galley with renewed interest to watch the strange dish which Trask had prepared.

"Don't stir it," said Trask. "Let it get good and sizzling."

"Yo' goin' cook de whole islan' in a fry pan?" asked Doc.

"If there's a hundred dollars' worth of gold in a bushel of sand, don't you think it would pay?" asked Trask, as he went out.

"Some cookin'!" declared Doc.

Trask now searched Jarrow's cabin in the hope of finding some sort of firearm, but there was neither pistol nor rifle. So he took the captain's spy-glass, a cumbersome, old-fashioned tube, and went on the poop deck to look the island over.

But the only living thing in sight was Dinshaw, busy scooping up sand with his hands, and building what appeared to be sand forts. The old man was working out near the point, close to the water's edge, piling up sand like a harvester getting ready for the work of gathering a crop. Mound after mound he made, in a long furrow on a line with the shore, just above the rim of the tide.

"I believe he is crazy," said Marjorie, as she looked through the glass. "Can it be possible he thinks that sand is gold?"

"That's been my suspicion for quite awhile," said Trask.

Locke began to laugh. "We are the prize boobs," he said, "if we've come here because a cracked old man thinks a beach is solid gold. We might have known he was out from the way he talked."

"Anyway, it's lots of fun," asserted Marjorie. "Think of it! A real mutiny, a lunatic, sand that's supposed to be gold——"

"Marge, you're a hard-shell optimist," chided her father. "Don't you realize that we're in danger? That a storm, or a dozen things would——"

"I rather enjoy it, Dad. I've always wanted to do something that was more exciting than playing tennis. I'm glad I came."

Trask looked at her and grinned. As she stood against the rail, spying out the land through an ancient glass, seeking some sign of a crew of piratical tendencies, he couldn't help thinking that this slender young woman with the yellow hair coiled under a canvas hat really was thrilled by the possibility of danger.

"By George! You do like it!" he said, admiringly.

"I'm only a little bit scared," she confessed.

"Mr. Trask, yo' better take a look at this mess," Doc called up the companion. He betrayed his suppressed excitement in his voice, and when Trask went down, followed by the others, the steward's hands were trembling and his eyes snapping with the spirit of discovery which possessed him. He might have been a scientist making a test which promised to realize lifelong dreams and labours.

"Fine! It's fairly glowing!" said Trask, as he passed a hand over the dish of sand.

They all pressed around him as he took a bottle of water from Doc and dashed the liquid into the sand. There was a cloud of steam and a terrific hissing.

"Now," said Trask, "pass me that wooden chopping bowl," and he dumped the wet sand out into the bowl, and laid it on the cabin table.

"Bring me another pan," he called, "and more water."

He began twisting the bowl with a rotary motion, and when Doc arrived with the pan, nursed the sand out into it, and as the last of the sand went over the lip of the bowl, ran out on deck into the sun, and examined the bottom of the wooden bowl.

"Lordy me!" gasped Doc, leaning over Trask's shoulder. "Look at the sparkle!"

The wet bowl was shot with tiny points of yellow, which caught the sunlight.

"Gold!" exclaimed Marjorie.

"By thunder!" cried Locke. "Dinshaw's right!"

"Gold without a doubt," said Trask, and turned to see Shanghai Tom staring into the bowl, his eyes fairly popping out of his head at this magical cookery which transformed a sea-beach into glittering wealth.

Trask resumed the washing, and in a few minutes had as much of the yellow powder as he could hold in the hollow of a palm.

"Man alive!" remarked the gleeful Doc. "I reckon we better take this yere island apart, right down level to the water!"

"There's millions on it," declared Trask. "When four cups of sand will assay that much gold, consider what's in a mile of beach like this."

"It's a new one on me," said Locke. "I never saw such a thing in my life and—— Hello! Here's the boat coming out!"

They ran to the rail, and looking shoreward, saw the dinghy, with two men rowing it, and Peth and Jarrow sitting in the stern sheets. They were heading straight for the schooner.

CHAPTER XIII

"It's all right," said Jarrow. "They want to put me aboard for a talk."

"You can't come alongside," warned Trask. "We'll shoot if you attempt to come close," and he put his hand to his hip pocket and pulled out his silver cigarette case, taking care that the sun hit the upper edge.

"But they want to put me back aboard for a talk about how things stand," insisted Jarrow. "You'll let me come, won't ye?"

"Not with that gang," said Trask. "Let 'em take you ashore, and get up the beach. Then I'll come for you with the long boat."

Jarrow made some suggestion to Peth, but the mate shook his head.

"He says I come aboard now, this way, or not at all," said Jarrow. "You better let me tell you how the land lays."

"Nobody gets aboard here until Captain Dinshaw is brought back," said Trask. "And I'll take one man of the crew. The rest of 'em can stay here and starve for all I care. It's their own funeral. They had no business deserting the schooner."

"But I'm master, and that's my schooner, and I'm to say what's to be done," said Jarrow. "If you try to do that, it's piracy. I can't help it if the men refuse duty. All I can do is the best I can for the safety of my passengers, and if you don't let me do that, I wash my hands of ye."

"You'll find your schooner in Manila," declared Trask. "I've told you how to go about getting aboard."

"I can't do what they won't let me," whined Jarrow.

"What do they want?" demanded Trask.

The boat now had no way on her, and had swung broadside to the schooner, about a hundred yards off.

"They want a bonus," said Jarrow.

"What sort of bonus?"

"Extra wages to work the schooner back to Manila."

"We won't have 'em work the schooner back to Manila at any price."

"You can't git back yourself, Mr. Trask. Can't git out of this place. It's dangerous. You'll lose her."

"We'd rather take the chance of losing the schooner than have that cut-throat crew back here, I'll tell you that. They've made their bed, now they can sleep in it."

"Be I goin' to lose all I got out of this?" wailed Jarrow. "If you'll let 'em put me aboard, it'll come out all right."

"They can have the island. We don't want it," said Trask.

"There ain't no gold," said Peth.

"I know it," said Trask. "Could have told you in fifteen minutes, if you hadn't wanted to cheat Dinshaw out of it."

"We wouldn't a-come if we'd knowed this was a sell," said Peth.

"Weren't you paid to come?"

"He ain't got no gun," yelled Doc. "The island is full o' gold, cap'n. Yo' got to cook it an'——"

Trask turned to see the steward waving his hands at the rail, and ran toward him in rage, telling him to be still.

"Don' you lay han's on me!" yelled Doc, backing away to where Shanghai Tom stood. Behind the pair was Marjorie.

"So you're in with 'em, eh?" sneered Trask.

"I'm in fo' mahse'f!" declared Doc, lowering his head and regarding Trask from under his brows. He put his hand in his pocket. "Keep away, w'ite man, or I'll do yo'all hurt!"

Trask walked straight for the steward, who pulled out a pistol.

"My gun!" cried Trask, stopping. Marjorie uttered a cry of dismay as she saw the steward raise his hand.

"I can shoot," warned Doc. "Come on! Come on!" he yelled, waving his hand to the dinghy. "I got 'em!"

Trask heard the splash of oars, and saw out of the corner of his eye that the boat was coming ahead swiftly. He was about to hurl himself at the steward when he saw Shanghai Tom reach over Doc's shoulder and grasp the weapon. Doc turned to resist the cook, but Tom bent him sidewise, wrenched the pistol from his hand so that it fell to the deck, and lifted Doc against the bulwark. Then catching the steward's legs, he threw him over, head first, into the sea.

"Good for you!" shouted Trask, and leaping forward, grabbed up his revolver and aimed it at the boat. "Stop!" he shouted. "Stop this minute or I'll fire!"

The rowers looked over their shoulders, and seeing that Trask had them covered, backed water furiously despite the shouts of Peth to go on.

Doc came up blowing, and began to swim toward the dinghy without further ado. Jarrow now yelled to the rowers to keep backing, and when Peth roared at him to "shut his head," the captain, taking advantage of the confusion, stood up and leaped into the water and began swimming to the schooner quite as fast as Doc swam away from it.

"Let me aboard!" cried Jarrow.

"All right," said Trask. "Come on!" and he came, with an awkward, splashing, overhand stroke, like some queer fish with one curved fin out of the water.

The rowers stopped backing and watched the two swimmers, as if not sure just what to do. Peth seemed inclined to wait and see how things turned out before making for shore. He evidently had abandoned any desire he had to get aboard the schooner by force.

Jarrow came floundering along, and managed to reach up and grasp the stern of the long boat, when he pulled himself up and climbed in. He stood dripping, dashing the water out of his eyes, and regarded the dinghy.

"Get out!" he bawled, shaking his fist. "Ye can go to the devil, the whole lot of ye!"

Peth made no reply, but spoke to the rowers, and the dinghy turned slowly and headed for the island, but waited for Doc to get alongside, when they helped him aboard, and made off rapidly.

"Them blastered scoundrels!" raged Jarrow, as he rubbed his hands down over his shirt to squeeze out the water. "I lost my hat."

"Better come aboard, captain," said Trask. "Have you a gun?"

"I wish I had," declared Jarrow, wrathfully. "I'd a-let daylight through that fool of a Peth! See the game they run on me ashore?"

"We did," said Locke. "You were lucky to get away."

"By the Mighty Nelson!" declared Jarrow, as he clambered over the side and hurled a shower of water around him like a halo as he landed on the bone-white deck. "I never did see such a passel o' fools! Plumb bugs on gold! They think 'cause there ain't any we're to put a young fortune in their hands! I'll have the coast guard on 'em, that's what, and land every man of 'em in Bilibid for life!"

"Then you're for getting out?" asked Trask.

"You bet I am! Think I want to hang around and palaver with a set of pirates that'd stick a gun in my face and tell me where I git off? Not much! What's that Doc pulled on you?"

"A gun," said Trask. "And my own. He had it all the time."

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" declared Jarrow, staring at the weapon which Trask still held in his hand. "He's a nice one!"

"A smooth article," said Trask. "He fooled me, all right. If it hadn't been for Tom——" He looked around, but Tom had disappeared into the galley.

"I'm sure the steward would have shot you," said Marjorie, who had regained her composure, and now stood beside Trask.

"Looked like it was all off to me," said Locke. "We'll have to square things with that Chink."

"What's this?" asked Jarrow, looking at the pan and bowl, and the sand on the deck. "Been lookin' for gold?"

"Tried some of it," said Trask.

"Find any?" asked Jarrow, with quick interest.

"No," said Trask, and Locke appeared startled, but said nothing.

"I better git into some dry duds," said Jarrow. "As soon as there's a capful of wind, we'll see what we can do about gittin' out of this hole, unless you want to go prospectin' ashore, Mr. Trask."

"Not with those fellows there," said Trask, looking over to where the boat was making a landing far up the beach. The other two men came down to meet the boat's crew, and there was a lively conference.

"But we can't go and leave poor old Dinshaw," said Marjorie.

Jarrow looked at Trask questioningly.

"How about it?" he asked. "Are we goin' to hang around and take chances just to pick up the old un?"

"We can't leave Dinshaw," said Trask. "We've got to get him before we think of leaving."

"You can suit yerself," said Jarrow. "I'm for gittin' out. They won't hurt him. Soon's we're gone, they'll all make over for the mainland. They've got some canned meat and hard bread. They took a lot of stuff with 'em last night."

Jarrow departed for his room, leaving a wet trail behind him.

"He's all right," whispered Locke. "If we can get Dinshaw, we're fixed up to leave."

"We'll keep an eye on the captain just the same," said Trask. "I rather think he's had all he wants of Peth and the crew, even if he was going to stand in with them at one time."

"Oh, I guess he's straight enough," said Locke. "But you didn't tell him about that gold."

"He was keen about what you'd found," said Marjorie. "I suppose he didn't understand what the steward said."

Trask laughed, and leaning over to Locke, whispered: "There wasn't any gold in the sand."

"No gold?" said Locke, staring at him.

"No. The 'gold' was just some brass filings I made in the forecastle out of an old brass cleat that was hanging on a nail in my room for a clothes hook," and he took from his pocket the piece of metal and displayed the groove he had cut in it with the file.

"What the dickens did you do that for?" asked Locke.

"To see if Doc would stand in with the crew, although I didn't expect it would result in his pulling a gun on me. I thought that if he was against us, he'd try to get back ashore with the news. Now if they think the island is full of gold, they'll be content to stay there and not bother us. But I didn't want to fool Jarrow. He might not be so anxious to leave, if he had what he thought to be proof that there was plenty of gold."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Marjorie. "I'd hoped that Dinshaw's dream had come true."

"Had me going all right," said Locke.

Before long Jarrow came out, in dry clothing, smacking his lips after a drink, and lighted a long cigar.

"Now," he began, "how're we to git Looney Dinshaw back?"

"Go for him with the boat," said Trask.

"You come along?" suggested the captain.

"I'll stick by the schooner," said Trask.

"Then I'll take the cook."

"Not unless the cook wants to go of his own accord," was Trask's reply. "I'm not going to ask Tom to do anything."

"Want me to go alone?" asked the captain, in surprise.

"I suggest that you row up toward the point, and call Dinshaw down to you. You can get him easy enough, and I'll stand watch here to see that you're not headed off by the dinghy."

Jarrow said nothing to this, but went aft for his glass, and studied the group far up the beach. The sailors were gathering wood from the jungle, and making a pile about halfway between the edge of the forest and the water.

In a few minutes a curl of white smoke was rising from the pile they had laid.

"Gittin' a meal ready," was Jarrow's comment, and he went into the cabin where Shanghai Tom was setting the table.

"Doc is making a fire to melt some gold on his own account," said Trask to Locke and Marjorie. "I wish him luck. Dinshaw is still piling sand into little dunes up near the point."

CHAPTER XIV

"But I want the cook," said Jarrow. Trask had joined him on the forecastle and the others remained in the cabin.

"The cook stays right here with us," said Trask. "I don't intend to take a chance at losing another man."

"You don't seem to look on me as worth much," said Jarrow, as he gazed at the column of smoke which rose straight in the air and hung over the island like a volcanic vapour, spreading out into a funnel-shaped cloud.

"If Peth was willing to put you on board, I don't see that he'd interfere with you if you went ashore," said Trask. "As I see it, you can pull over, get Dinshaw, and come back. You don't need to go near that gang on the beach."

"Can't ye let me have the gun?"

"No." Trask walked away from Jarrow, satisfied that the captain would take no action so long as there was a possibility of continuing the argument.

Not long afterward, while the three in the cabin were playing cards and Tom was preparing lunch, Jarrow came shambling aft, and without a word went over the side and into the long boat. When Trask went out on deck the captain was pulling slowly for the shore, making a course to land near where Dinshaw was toiling in the broiling sun at his sand piling.

All hands deserted the cabin to see what would happen. As the boat approached the beach, Doc was seen to leave those about the fire, and proceed toward Dinshaw, with the avowed purpose of heading the captain off.

Jarrow made his way leisurely, and ran the boat on the shingle. He stood watching Doc and waiting for him, and when the steward had come close and stopped as if in doubt as to what the captain's attitude would be, Jarrow beckoned him on with a peremptory gesture.

There was a parley, which ended with Doc returning to the fire, and then Jarrow approached Dinshaw. The old man looked up and waved his hand as if pointing out the result of his labours.

Jarrow kicked the sand, and got down to examine it. Then he said something to Dinshaw, and the latter got up and followed him obediently to the boat. Soon they were heading back for the schooner, Dinshaw serving an oar.

"What's the news?" asked Trask, as the boat drew near.

"They want to come back," said Jarrow. "Peth sends word that if you'll take 'em, they'll return to duty if you'll call it square. Seems like they've tried a wrinkle of burnin' the sand to git gold, but it won't work, an' they're plumb disgusted."

"We won't take Peth's word about anything," said Trask.

"I guess they got a belly full o' this business," was Jarrow's comment as he brought the boat alongside. "You make a mistake not to take 'em up. We'd be in a bad hole here if it come on to blow hard. Ye better let me signal 'em back."

Trask said nothing to this, but helped Dinshaw over the side. The old man seemed utterly spent, and appeared to be in a daze from the sun. He looked about as if he had seen none of them before, and smiled, whispering something about gold, holding up his hands and looking at them.

"He thinks the sand is gold," said Jarrow. "I looked it over and it's no more gold than I am."

Marjorie spoke to Dinshaw, but he merely blinked at her, and she took him away to the cabin and gave him food and drink.

"What's this Doc said about you cookin' gold out of sand?" asked Jarrow.

"Brass filings," said Trask, promptly, and took some of the particles from his trousers pocket and dumped them into Jarrow's palm. "Had my suspicions of him, and wanted to see if he'd give me a double cross. And he has the nerve to want to come back!"

Jarrow grinned and examined the grains of brass, and with a remark that it was all a crazy business, announced his intention of getting some sleep.

"Call me, Mr. Trask, if this calm breaks, and we'll git out. I'm disgusted."

Dinshaw had suffered a sort of collapse, or coma, and he was put to bed likewise. Trask managed to get up an awning, and out on deck, where they could keep watch on shore, they lunched in comparative comfort.

Locke, now satisfied that the whole venture was a mad sort of lark, took it all in jocular mood, and chaffed Marjorie about her desire to go adventuring in the tropics. But Trask knew that he had been much more worried than either himself or Marjorie, and that his sallies were the result of his relief from strain about how things would turn out for them.

Shanghai Tom had become the pet of the trio, and while he maintained his outward imperturbability, it was evident that he was quite proud of his exploit in overcoming and disposing of the treacherous Doc Bird. Trask had promised him a reward on their return to Manila, at which he had remarked, "Me no catchum for cash," and shook his head. The Chinaman either from pique at the crew's total disregard of him in their plans or from a real liking for the passengers themselves had lined himself up on the side of the Lockes and Trask.

The crew deserted their fire and took to the jungle, leaving a pile of smouldering ashes on the sand, and during the afternoon there was nothing to be seen of them. The dinghy was in plain sight, pulled up on the beach, just beyond where they had essayed their attempts at reducing ore by the "cooking" method.

Trask managed to get a nap lying in a steamer chair under his improvised awning, for it was agreed that if they had to remain at their anchorage for the night, he would have to share a watch with Jarrow.

In spite of the captain's evident desire to abandon the crew to their fate, Trask still had a lurking suspicion that Jarrow was more in sympathy with Peth's demands for extra money than his heated language against the mate implied. And the young man was determined that he would not relax his vigilance once Jarrow was on deck again. So while he slept, Locke sat in the doorway of the cabin and read while Marjorie played solitaire under a corner of the awning and kept a watch toward shore.

Jarrow appeared late in the afternoon, and was rather morose and silent. He went out on the forecastle and smoked, scanning the sea and sky and complaining to himself that there was no wind. The sea was as smooth as a field of liquid metal, great glassy swells extending to the horizon all round, glinting in the sun. The heat was oppressive until the sun dropped to the sea's rim, when dark wind patches made their appearance to the southward on the surface of the ocean. But still the calm held.

While the sky and sea were yet suffused with crimson from the sun's afterglow Jarrow came aft, and without a word to any one, or even a look, went on the poop, going up the port side.

Marjorie went in and peeped into Dinshaw's room. The old man was sleeping, breathing gently, but lying like a man utterly exhausted, flat on his back in his bunk.

As she came out on deck, where Trask and Locke sat watching the sea and reconciling themselves to another night aboard the schooner in the bight of the reef, Jarrow's voice came over the cabin trunk in a low growl as he cleared his throat.

"We better talk this thing over," he suggested.

"All right, captain," said Locke. "Suppose you come down here."

Jarrow appeared at the starboard break of the poop, his hands on his hips, a cigar aslant in his mouth. He gave the trio a critical glance, and turned his head toward the island.

"Not much chance to get out to-night," began Locke. "Do you look for a breeze?"

"I don't look for nothin'," said the captain, without looking at Locke. "I been thinkin' this thing over," he said presently, chewing his words with his cigar. "I'm out of pocket on this deal."

"How do you mean?" asked Locke, with a startled glance at Trask. He had detected a belligerent note in the captain's voice.

"Just this," said Jarrow, with sudden vehemence, slapping his hand down on the cabin roof, and turning a savage visage at the three sitting below him: "I come on this trip lookin' to make a piece o' money. I figured there'd be a couple of weeks here at the least—you'd go lookin' for gold, an' maybe find it, an' I'd git a look-in. Now ye want to skip out for Manila again. Where do I git off?"

Trask sprang to his feet, his face scarlet with rage.

"You sit down, young feller," said Jarrow, holding up a hand for attention. "Don't go off half-cocked."

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Locke. His back was to Jarrow, and he did not get up.

Trask stood glaring at Jarrow with trembling lips and set jaw. The captain pushed his cap back on his head and puffed a couple of times at his cigar before he spoke.

"I mean you can't git out of here, wind or no wind, without me. And what's more, ye won't go when I do but ye'll pay me for my time, and I'll make it fair enough."

"You're in with Peth!" exclaimed Trask, and made a move toward his pistol pocket.

"I'm in with Peth," admitted Jarrow. "He didn't work it just the way I wanted, but now it's come to a show down. This schooner is for sale for twenty thousand dollars. I guess that's fair enough, seein' the jam ye're in, and the young lady along."

"I've half a mind to take a shot at you," said Trask.

"Go ahead and shoot," said Jarrow. "That's my chance. I'll risk it. But you've got to handle the rest of the crew before mornin', don't forgit that."

"Twenty thousand dollars," said Locke, musingly, and looked at Marjorie, who stared at Jarrow as if she could not believe her ears.

"My price," said Jarrow. "I thought I'd say somethin' about it before the boys come out. They'll be makin' along out this way in a few minutes. It'll save messin' things up to reach a bargain before they come."

"The first man that tries to come aboard——" began Trask.

"You can't kill 'em all," said Jarrow, grinning. "Oh, it's cheap at the price. You'll find it a lot more comfortable to see this thing the way it lays. You shoot me, and it's all off with ye. The boys'll just have to boat off down the coast and say ye was lost with the schooner. That's easy enough."

"You're a murderin' scoundrel," said Locke, quietly.

"I'm out for the coin," said Jarrow. "Work with me, and it'll be all right."

"Sit down, Mr. Trask," said Locke. "We might as well go about this in a business way."

"Now ye're talkin'," said Jarrow.

"What's your proposition?" asked Locke. "Tom! Bring me my cigar-case."

"I'm sellin' the schooner for twenty thousand. I left word in Manila at your bank that you had a mind to buy, an' you'd pay ten thousand. That's a fair price. My bank thinks ye're goin to buy, too, so that's another ten. I won't have no trouble cashin' two checks on you. I cashed your checks in both banks before we left, and they're sort o' trained to it."

"You're playing a dangerous game," said Locke. "Do I understand you're to put us down in Manila and then go up to the banks and cash checks on me?"

"No," said Jarrow. "You stay here on the island, hid away. If I don't git the money, it's you who's playin' a dangerous game."

"But how are we to get away from here?" asked Locke.

"We'll send the schooner back, after we've had time to git clear of Manila. May be five or six days after we git our money, but I'll send it right enough. Of course, I could ask more, an' take a wide chance, but I ain't hoggin' things. It ought to be worth gittin' out without trouble for you folks. And ye'll git some of yer money back out o' this old wagon. Say the word, an' I'll signal the boys to come back, all peaceful, an' no shootin'. If ye don't want to take it my way, I'm done talkin'. The others look for fight, an' Peth's got my gun's well's his own. So, if you want fireworks, it ain't my funeral."

"I'll take you up," said Locke, as he reached for his cigar-case. "You'll let us have Tom—and what we need?"

"Everything ye want," said Jarrow, with satisfaction. "Only don't come no didoes with me or the checks. If I ain't here to tell Peth it's all right when he comes alongside, he'll cut loose on ye in the dark."

"I'm giving you my word that we'll play fair, as you call it. You'll get your checks, and all I ask is fair play in return."

"My way o' lookin' at it," said Jarrow. "I thought you'd find it a open an' shut game, an' I spoke as I did so's you'd have time to pack an' stow the boats, if ye don't want to stay aboard to-night. But there ain't no call for you leavin' here 'less we git a wind."

"We'll take that up later," said Locke.

"I'd like a letter from you, as how ye've bought the schooner," said Jarrow. "Ye can say's ye've decided to remain here, and I'm to attend to some things in Manila, so's it'll look natural like."

"As you say," said Locke. "If you'll fetch my coat, I'll write out a check—the checks. And my pen's with the book."

"I'll bring some paper," said Jarrow, with a glance at Trask. "If you don't mind, unload your gun, and give me the ca'tridges. I'll turn 'em over to ye when ye leave for the island. How's that?"

"I'll compromise," said Trask. "Suppose Miss Locke keeps the gun? You'd hardly expect Miss Locke to shoot you in the back, would you?"

"I'll take the ca'tridges," said Jarrow, coming down and holding out his hand. "I ain't figurin' on anybody changin' their mind, but it'll be better to make sure."

"Give him what he wants," said Locke. "We'll play the game as the cards run."

So Trask took out the magazine, and removed the cartridge from the chamber of the pistol and surrendered the ammunition.

Jarrow went into his room for the paper, and they heard him fumbling in the little bulkhead desk.

"No use arguing with a man when he's got the drop on you," said Locke. "If it wasn't for Miss Trinkets, here, it might be different. But I'd rather pay up than see anybody hurt."

Trask sat with his empty pistol across his knees, thoroughly dejected, staring out over the blood-red sea. Already a star, close to the horizon, had popped out, and the top of the island was gathering gloom.

"I was a fool ever to take you people on such a wild-goose chase," said Trask. "I'll have to pay you back every dollar of this, Mr. Locke."

"Pay nothing," said Locke.

"I'm the one to blame, Dad," said Marjorie, laying her hand on his arm. She was quite white, but she smiled faintly. "And you can't blame yourself, Mr. Trask. It was all my plan from the first, Dad. We plotted to inveigle you into coming to the island, at least I abetted Mr. Trask, and I'm glad I came."

"I'm satisfied——" said Locke, with a whimsical smile, and before he could go on he was interrupted by a scream of rage inside the cabin.

They all sprang up as Tom dashed from the galley and looked into the captain's cabin. They saw the white form of the Chinese against the dark interior, and heard a terrific struggle going on, with the sound of shoes being hammered against the bulkhead.

As the three pressed in to look over Tom's shoulder Dinshaw leaped from the deck of the captain's cabin, and yelling like mad, ran up the companion and dived over the taffrail.

Trask ran after him in time to hear him splash into the water, and turning to come through the cabin for the long boat, heard Jarrow sobbing on the deck, and crawling about, or so it seemed, for the captain's arms were moving like a swimmer's although he was making no progress forward. And as he struggled, he gave gasping cries.

"What's happened?" cried Locke.

"He killum cap'n," said Shanghai Tom, and stooping down, picked up a knife. It was a long knife from the galley rack.

Marjorie ran from the cabin, overcome with horror, and Trask followed, with the intention of getting the long boat away to save Dinshaw. But as he paused, poised on the bulwark to jump down into the boat, he looked aft. There was no trace of Dinshaw.

"Go to the taffrail and look," he called to Marjorie. She hastened to the poop-deck while he got the boat off, which swung with the tide, and drifted aft as he paddled with the big oar, standing in the stern.

For an instant there was a white object visible against the dark water, as if a fish had broken the surface. Whatever it was, it was being swept away swiftly by the tide. Before Trask could reach the spot where it had appeared, the water was smoothed out in a steely sheen. Dinshaw had been whirled away to the coral depths below.

It was growing dark as Trask rowed back. As he came alongside the schooner he saw Locke standing beside Marjorie.

"Dead," said Locke.

From shore there came a confused chorus of cries. Trask listened, and across the darkening waters he saw a white spot drifting out slowly, and then in the evening hush heard the clatter of oars.