CHAPTER VIII

OUTWITTING AN ENEMY

Dave Fearless stood looking over the queer jar and its contents very thoughtfully.

"Well," he declared at length, "this is a puzzle."

Under ordinary circumstances Dave might have supposed that some sailor addicted to the use of opium had hired some emissary to smuggle some of the drug aboard ship.

This, however, did not look rational in the present case. In the first place the contents of the jar represented over a year's pay of the average sailor. In the next place it was too easy to get it aboard by ordinary methods to occasion all this mystery.

Of course Dave at once decided that the placing of the opium in the forecastle cubby-hole was part and parcel of the same plot that had nearly wrecked the _Swallow_, that later just that day had developed the unsuccessful attempt at quarantining the steamer.

"What's the motive in this latest trick?" mused Dave. "Aha!" he exclaimed suddenly, "have I guessed it right?"

A quick suspicion, a prompt suggestion came to Dave's mind. He was speedy to act.

"I think I've struck the clew," he said--"I think I'm acting right in this matter."

Dave, carrying the jar with him, wandered about till he found a decayed tree stump. He emptied the opium into a hole in the wood and covered it over with bark.

Dave scraped the jar and made a little ball of the leavings, a sample of the stuff he might need for later experience and evidence.

This he did up in a piece of paper, shoving it in a safe pocket. He washed out the jar thoroughly. Then he wandered about studying the branches of various trees under which he passed. Several of these Dave ascended like a boy bird's-nesting.

He was quite a long time in one tree-top. When he descended to the ground he had the cover firmly attached to the jar, which he carried as if extremely careful of its contents.

"If I am guessing things out right," said Dave, with a kind of satisfied chuckle, "I think we shall give our enemies quite a novel surprise."

Dave swam back to the steamer. Arrived on deck he placed the jar just where he had originally found it. Then he went to bed.

He overslept himself next morning. The ship was a scene of bustle and activity. When he came up on deck, every member of the crew proper was busy, even Bob Vilett.

So Dave found no opportunity to make a confidant of his special chum, even had that been his desire or intention.

At nine o'clock Captain Broadbeam announced that all was ready for their departure, and ordered steam up.

Within thirty minutes of getting under way the boatswain hurried from the bow to where the captain was standing amidships.

"Coming again, sir," he announced, touching the peak of his cap respectfully.

"Who's coming?" demanded Broadbeam.

"Those buzzards--same gang in the longboat that was here last night."

"Humph!" growled the captain, gazing stormily at a yawl just rounded from open water into the mouth of the creek.

The approaching craft was directed by the plausible Silverado. Smiling as ever he came on board, three men with him.

"From his excellency the governor," he said.

"Yes, yes," answered Captain Broadbeam crossly; "I know all that rigmarole. What do you want?"

"A complaint, captain."

"Who from?"

"I do not know."

"What about?"

"Contraband goods--smuggling."

Captain Broadbeam laughed in the officer's face outright.

"Guess not," he said. "I reckon, my friend, about all we will take away from Minotaur Island will be a mighty poor opinion of its inhabitants."

"Oh, I trust not," the polite official hastened to say, but added tersely: "We must make a search."

"What for?"

"I have told you--contraband goods. We are having a good deal of trouble in this line. Ships touching here make the island a sort of clearing house for dutiable imports and exports. Our governor's high sense of honor demands extreme vigilance and discipline. We are authorized to make a search."

"Search away," cried Broadbeam indifferently, but with some show of mental irritation.

Silverado and his aids went into the hold. They made a great pretense of looking through the lockers in the cabins.

"Well?" demanded the captain of the _Swallow_ as they came on deck again, "found any smuggled goods?"

"None," reported Silverado promptly--"none, I am pleased to say."

"Then you give us a clean sheet on health and cargo, do you?" said Broadbeam. "Reason I ask, is that we are going to swing out of harbor soon as you get through with your tomfoolery."

Just here one of the officer's assistants came up and whispered in the ear of his superior. He pointed at the forecastle.

"Yes, yes," nodded Silverado, "take a look there, and be thorough."

"Getting warm!" chuckled Dave to himself--"the precious hypocrites!"

The man went into the forecastle and came out again. He looked into the water barrel. He lifted some box covers. Just as Dave guessed he would do, he kept up all this wise pretense until he landed up against the forecastle cubby-hole.

"I have found something," he announced, after groping in the hole. He had brought forth the stone jar.

"Ah, what is this?" spoke the officer. "Captain," he added, assuming great sudden gravity as he inspected the jar, "this looks pretty serious."

"Well, what's the mare's nest now?" petulantly demanded Broadbeam.

The officer held up the jar in plain view.

"It is what we expected to find," he announced severely. "It is opium. We know that last week a tramp steamer landed a lot of the stuff on the island. The labels show that this is part of the same contraband cargo. I declare this package and the _Swallow_ under confiscation, and arrest you. You must come to the governor."

"Oh, that so?" slowly spoke Captain Broadbeam, his shoulders hunching dangerously. "I never saw that jar before, and, shiver my timbers!" roared the incensed old captain, shaking his fist vigorously under Silverado's nose, "I don't know the stuff is opium."

"Oh, yes, captain," insisted the officer. "The labels are unmistakable. Look for yourself. Ough!"

With smart-Aleck readiness the suave Silverado untwisted the jar cover. With a sharp cry he dropped it. In a cloud, a stream, there instantly darted out from the receptacle an angry procession of hornets.

They lit on those nearest to the jar, the officer and his assistants. One of his aides was a special target. The poor fellow ran to the side to escape them. He set up renewed yells as they stuck, pestered, and stung. Then, splash! he took a reckless header into the waters of the creek to escape his pertinacious tormentors.

Silverado lost all his usual calm dignity trying to evade the little pests. He bit his lips and scowled as the captain faced him with a loud derisive guffaw.

"Here, take away your contraband goods with you," shouted Broadbeam, dropping jar and cover into the yawl, as the official hastily descended into it, a crestfallen look on his face. "Ready, there," he added to the boatswain. "Steam up."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Captain Broadbeam stepped to the little pilot house. He touched an electric button.

Dave watched the maneuver with a glowing face. He was full of the successful guess he had made concerning the planted opium, but he did not try to explain that just then.

The jar of the starting steam below communicated a vibrating thrill to his nerves. Dave ran up to Amos Fearless as the veteran diver crossed the deck.

"Good news, father!" cried Dave gayly, "We've started."

"Hey and hallo for me paternal dominions--once more for the Windjammers' Island and the stolen threasure!" shouted Pat Stoodles, cutting a caper.

"Will we find it, I wonder?" sighed the old diver thoughtfully.

"I think we shall, father," answered Dave Fearless, with confidence.