Chapter 13

WHAT HAPPENED TO DOC AND THE DINGHY

Those aboard the _Nuestra_ watched the dinghy for a minute as it came on, the sunlight flashing from the oars. Two men were still on the beach, far up to the left, with their hands to their eyes, watching the progress of the boat.

"Now what's the game?" asked Locke.

"It looks like a boarding party," said Trask. "If they wanted to come back and behave themselves, they'd all come. Get those dishes out of sight. They may manage to get aboard in spite of all we can do, but we've got to bluff 'em."

"We can't let 'em aboard," declared Locke.

Trask moved forward and mounted the forecastle, followed by Locke.

"Hello, you!" called Trask.

The rowers ceased their work, and with suspended oars allowed the dinghy to drift on.

"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."