Chapter 8

HOW THE SCHOONER ARRIVED OFF THE ISLAND

Trask found Captain Jarrow pacing the weather side of the poop-deck when he went up. The captain seemed to be in ill-humour, as if his tilt with Peth had not been settled to his liking, and his attitude that of shame for having lost his face so soon with his "passengers."

He nodded pleasantly to Trask, who observed that his bronzed face appeared flushed with anger. There was a savage glint in his eye in spite of his silent geniality.

Trask leaned against the taffrail, waiting to see if Jarrow would speak, and if the captain's mood warranted it, intended to report the loss of his pistol.

Locke and Marjorie were in deck chairs around the cabin on the lee side, sheltered from sun and wind to some degree by the sail over their heads.

But Jarrow said nothing, continuing to pace from the break of the poop and aft, ignoring Trask, but keeping a watchful eye on the man at the helm and the sails. His manner indicated that he did not wish to engage in conversation, but preferred to consider matters which required careful thought.

Dinshaw was standing at the port bulwark abreast of the mainmast, gazing out over the sea in a reflective way, and looking quite forlorn and chastened. The crew, in skylarking style, were drawing water over the side with buckets and throwing it down the deck from forward, so that Dinshaw frequently had to pull himself up on the bulwark to avoid having his feet wet.

This gaiety forward was in striking contrast to the sense of gloom which had come over the after part of the schooner. Not that any one was suffering any discomforts from the fact that Jarrow had clashed with the mate, unless it were Jarrow himself, but Peth's irascibility had checked the holiday air with which the schooner's company had put to sea. But the crew had suddenly become gleeful, as if the quarrel between master and mate had provided a great joke.

Peth was walking about forward, in bare feet, growling out a word now and then, and obviously going to great pains not to look aft. When his back was turned from them the sailors indulged in grins and back-slappings and other rough demonstrations of their knowledge that the "afterguard" were not on agreeable terms.

This prankish mood of the crew was shown in their efforts to make Dinshaw uncomfortable. It was plain to Trask that they wanted to arouse the old man's ire, or pick on him in a sneaking way, to let him know that he had lost his previous standing with them. It was all undoubtedly meant to have petty revenge on him for the way he had been lording it about before Peth had quarrelled with Jarrow. They seemed to have an idea that because Peth had come forward, they could show the old captain disrespect.

In a way it was all harmless enough, yet Trask felt that neither Peth nor Jarrow should allow such lax discipline. Dinshaw belonged aft, and for that reason to treat him with contumely was a reflection on everybody aft. But Trask thought that it was no time to call the captain's attention to what was going on, partly because Dinshaw should have remained aft while such work was being done, and partly because a criticism from Jarrow would undoubtedly cause a renewal of the row that should be allowed to blow over.

The crew's jeering attitude was soon brought out in another manner while Trask remained near the captain. Doc Bird went to the lee side to throw over some refuse from the galley, and before he could make his escape back to the galley one of the men, whom Trask knew to be Shope, hurled a bucket of water in such fashion that Doc's legs were wet.

The steward said something which Trask did not understand, but which must have been suitable to the occasion, for Shope took anger at once, and advanced on the negro threateningly. But Doc ran back to the galley, and his voice, raised in remonstrance, could be heard as he expressed opinions to Shanghai Tom about Shope.

If there had been no trouble in the schooner Trask would have thought nothing of the incident, and might have enjoyed it as a harmless joke. But he saw that the crew seemed to be openly antagonistic to all hands aft, for the others joined in open laughter at the discomfiture of the steward. And what was more significant, Peth and Jarrow saw what happened, but both ignored it. The crew were evidently taking advantage of the relations between master and mate, and seemed bent on stirring up fresh discord.

In a few minutes Jarrow went below, without looking at Trask, and from the set of his jaw Trask knew that his anger was growing. Presently he heard Jarrow talking in a gruff way to Doc Bird, and the latter's whining and conciliatory voice in argument.

"I don't want no back slack from the likes o' you," Jarrow said, and Doc subsided.

Trask went around to where Locke and Marjorie were sitting, and with his back against the side of the cabin trunk, sat and chatted.

At lunch time Captain Jarrow joined them at table, and made special efforts to renew the good-fellowship of the schooner, chiefly by a careful avoidance of any mention of Peth. He made jokes and told stories and except for a wicked look now and then at Doc Bird, was very jolly and agreeable, so that he made a decidedly good impression on Locke and Marjorie. But Trask had some doubts of his natural affability and was inclined toward the belief that Jarrow was hardly so angelic as he painted himself.

Dinshaw did not appear at table. On investigation it was found that the old man was in the waist boat taking a nap and he was not disturbed.

Peth came aft shortly, and while Marjorie, Trask, and Locke played cards at the cabin table, Jarrow and the mate had a long, low-toned conference, which ended by Jarrow's coming down and going to his room.

"Everything's all right," he said to Locke, with a vigorous wink, and pointed up the companion with his thumb.

"You mean he comes back?" asked Locke.

"No, sir, he stays for'ard, but it's all smoothed out. He ain't a bad sort when ye rub him the right way," and thereupon disappeared for his afternoon sleep.

When the card party broke up, and the trio went to the poop-deck, Peth was all smiles, and arranged their chairs on the starboard side. But Locke practically ignored him, except to be officially pleasant, as it had been agreed that unless the mate asked permission to come aft again his status should be exactly like that of the crew. So far as Trask could judge, Peth seemed perfectly agreeable to that arrangement, and once he had given formal assistance, went back to the weather side, and kept to himself.

Dinshaw crawled out from his nook in the waist boat, rubbed his eyes, and looked about him in a dazed sort of way, and then went into the cabin to wheedle Doc Bird out of a meal after which he hid himself away in his room and remained there until dinner.

"Well," said Jarrow, as he watched Doc Bird light the cabin lamp. "We ought to raise the island some time before noon if this breeze holds."

"Good enough," said Locke. "But I can't say I'm in any particular hurry to get anywhere. I've had the best rest and loaf to-day I've had in a long time."

"We've certainly walked along," said Trask.

"Oh, the old gal can go," said Jarrow, proudly. "Mr. Peth has kept her diggin' along. We've logged near ten knots steady. I never looked to march like we have. If we keep it up through the night, we ought to have supper the next time at anchor."

"Then Captain Dinshaw and I'll be able to start our prospecting early," said Trask, with a nod at the old captain.

"I can take ye right to the place," said Dinshaw, eagerly. "Ye won't have no trouble to find gold with me along."

"You people better draw up an agreement as to who's to have all this gold," said Locke, with a waggish smile. "Suppose we fill this schooner up with yellow stuff? Who owns it?"

"Share and share alike," suggested Dinshaw. "I'll make ye all rich."

"You mean me and all hands?" asked Jarrow. Trask looked to Dinshaw for a reply, a trifle surprised at Jarrow's question, for of course the schooner's crew could claim no share of anything, as Jarrow was being paid for his part in the expedition and was taking no chances of being out of pocket if the island proved to be a fiasco.

"No, sir," said Dinshaw, a little ruffled. "What's you and all hands got to do with this v'yage, outside of doin' yer duty?"

"Can't ye take a little joke?" demanded Jarrow, with a wry grin. "Think we're goin' to run away with yer island?"

Dinshaw became confused at this, and stared at the others helplessly. Marjorie spoke up and reassured the old man that no one wanted to cheat him out of what was his, and he went on eating, content.

But Jarrow's sharpness put an end to the pleasant relations which had been resumed. In a few minutes he found an excuse to leave the table and did not come back.

"We certainly have joined a happy family," said Locke. "If it wasn't that we were so near to this island, I'd be for turning the schooner around and----"

"Oh, Dad!" said Marjorie. "Don't take it so seriously! I want to see the island."

"So do I, but I hate to hear everybody aboard barking at everybody else. First it's Mr. Peth, and now the captain's on his high horse. They're not being paid to perform like a box of wild-cats, and I'll inform Captain Jarrow to that effect before long if things don't change."

"He wants to steal my island!" whispered Dinshaw.

Doc Bird, who was serving the coffee, started visibly, and looked at Dinshaw in amazement.

"What's that?" asked Locke, and Trask and Marjorie turned to the old captain.

"Jarrow and Peth want to steal my island and have all the gold," insisted Dinshaw, his face tragic.

"Steward, give my compliments to Captain Jarrow and tell him I'd speak to him," said Locke.

"I wouldn't do that," cautioned Trask. "Let's see what this is about. I don't think it's wise to jump at conclusions. What makes you think they're going to steal your island?"

"Call the cap'n, sir?" asked Doc, on his way to the companion.

"Never mind," said Locke.

"What reason have you for believing that Jarrow and Peth want to steal your gold, captain?" asked Trask, gently.

"I know," said Dinshaw, wagging his head.

"How do you know?"

"I--I dreamed it. I was asleep out there in the long boat and heard 'em talking."

"We can't very well blame Jarrow for what you dream," said Locke, relieved that there was nothing more substantial to Dinshaw's charges than a dream.

"I didn't dream it," said Dinshaw, with sudden conviction. "I heard 'em talk. Jarrow said if there was gold on the island, he and Peth was to have it for themselves."

Doc chuckled, and showed his teeth in a broad smile, with a sly wink at Trask.

"He talks in his sleep," whispered Doc into Trask's ear, as he bent over to remove a plate.

"Don't you worry," said Locke. "Nobody's going to cheat you, and I'm here to see that they don't. But I'd keep quiet about my dreams, if I wanted to go on to the island, or we'll be back in Manila in three shakes of a lamb's tail."

"Very good, sir," said Dinshaw.

Trask was between two minds to tell Locke that his pistol had been stolen, for while he placed little credence in what Dinshaw had said, he began to wonder if there wasn't something going on aboard the schooner that promised trouble. What if Dinshaw had not been dreaming after all? Suppose Peth and Jarrow were plotting to play all hands double?

But it would be silly to abandon the voyage just as they were about to arrive at the island, and while undoubtedly there had been gossip and conjecture about the island, it was quite possible that if Dinshaw had overheard some light talk, he had misinterpreted its import.

Trask knew that Locke's attitude was now such that if he reported the theft of the pistol, Locke would decline to go forward another mile, an idea which Trask could not bring himself to consider for various reasons, the most important being that he did not want to say farewell to Marjorie Locke and see her sail away to the United States.

And as there being any actual danger from Jarrow and Peth, other than such as might result from a serious quarrel between the two, he considered a piece of absurdity.

As Trask thought the thing over later in the evening, however, he realized that his own deductions and desires were selfish, and that after all he could not assume the entire responsibility for Marjorie's safety. He knew it was only fair to take Locke into his confidence regarding what had happened.

So, getting Locke below in the cabin while the others were on deck, Trask told Locke that his pistol was missing. But Locke treated the matter lightly, and said he did not believe it could have any significance. It was his opinion that the weapon had been stolen by some of the crew, and he rather suspected Doc Bird. He said he would speak to the captain about it after they arrived at the island, and that the steward's quarters should be searched and Doc questioned, but he doubted the advisability of making what he called a rumpus about it now, especially as Marjorie might be worried and he wanted her to get a good night's sleep.

Trask let the business rest there and went up with Locke again to enjoy the brilliant moonlight and listen to the impromptu concert which the crew had begun with a mouth organ and a flute.

Even Peth joined in the fun, and unbent to the extent of whistling some popular airs of the sad and sentimental variety with many trills and flourishes.

Doc's part in the evening's entertainment was a buck-and-wing dance of a most violent sort, and when he had finished, Jarrow told him to serve all hands with a tot of rum.

Everybody went to bed in the best of spirits, and for the first time since leaving Manila it appeared that the whole ship's company was contented.

Trask left his room door open, and was awakened several times during the night. It seemed to him that the wind had shifted, and that there was much tacking, for all night there was running about on deck, and thumping of blocks. At least a dozen times he heard Jarrow bawling to "Go about," and Peth's voice from the bows yelling "Hard alee," and the jibs being handled to the accompaniment of shivering sails and the lurch of the schooner as she stood on a new board.

All aft slept late, and were not about for breakfast until well past eight o'clock, when they found Doc Bird grinning like an ebony monkey.

"What the devil was all the stock-yards noise about last night?" demanded Locke, as he came out of his room and went to the door to look forward, searching the horizon ahead.

"Shorely broke my bones, sir," said Doc. "We been a sawin' up an' down all night, but the old man he kep' on his close spite o' wind an' high water."

"I thought we were turning over several times," said Marjorie, as she took her place at table.

"Blowed lak' she never blowed befo'," opined Doc. "But we done come home."

"What do you mean?" asked Locke.

"Didn' yo' see the islan'?"

There was an exodus to the deck at this, but although the trio searched the rim of the sky they could not make out a sign of land. The schooner was sailing close into the wind, which had abated into a steady though stiff breeze, and she was pitching over the swells with an even, rocking movement.

Doc grinned and pointed over the port bow, and Jarrow came down from the poop, smiling proudly.

"There's our island," he said.

Trask managed to pick it up, but the others could not see it, and went back to breakfast. Trask soon followed, observing that Shope was in the fore crosstrees studying the distant speck with a glass.

"We ought to be up to it by night," said Jarrow.

"Night!" said Trask, surprised.

"Perhaps before dark," said Jarrow, a trifle disconcerted at Trask's manner. "I don't look to hold this wind all day."

"But we seem to be making good time," said Trask.

"Not so good as ye'd think," replied Jarrow. "She's kickin' up her heels and makin' a great fuss about it, maybe six knots now, and enough leeway to choke an ox."

With that he went up and in a few minutes put the schooner on the other tack, but this time she was not sailing into the wind nearly so closely as she had been, and was now headed so that if she held her course, she would clear the island by several miles and leave it to starboard.

Trask said nothing, but suspected that Jarrow was killing time, especially as the schooner did not go about for a couple of hours, and then on such a sharp angle with her former course that but few miles were gained in approaching the island.

Dinshaw spent the morning pottering over a chart in great excitement, and his manner indicated that he wanted to be left to himself.

All day they tacked up and down, Jarrow explaining that there might be reefs about, although there wasn't a spot of broken water in sight even with the heavy sea that was running after the night's blow.

At one time Trask thought the delay in getting on was due to Peth, for the mate was most deliberate in going about, and it was half an hour after the order had been given to put the schooner on a new tack before Peth got down his jib and shouted for a lee helm.

It was near sundown before they had the island within three miles, whereupon Jarrow so manoeuvred that they ran straight in for it, and came to anchor in its lee, behind a reef which ran to the south of and almost parallel with it.

By this time it was apparent to all that the island was the one they were seeking. It stood up out of the sea, green and fresh, except for the single peak, which was dun brown.

Dinshaw declared that this was it, and pointed out the reef which he had painted into his picture, which showed like a white ridge over the greenish water.

"It was here the _Wetherall_ struck," he said.

"But the four palm trees, and the big rock," said Trask; "I don't see them."

"Ah ha!" said Dinshaw, slyly. "I put them in to fool folks. There ain't no palm trees like them I painted."

Jarrow looked disgustedly at him, and gave orders to Peth to have the dinghy lowered.

"Are we going ashore now?" asked Marjorie.

"No, ma'am," said Jarrow. "We can't trust the weather in a hole like this. May have to wear and git out. All hands stick close aboard to-night."

"In the morning," said Trask.

"In the mornin," echoed Dinshaw, but he seemed disappointed and scarcely able to wait for the time of going ashore.

Trask got out his prospecting bag, and after supper they all sat on the poop and talked and joked about what was in store for them the next day--all except Dinshaw, who, like a child, had gone to bed early, that morning would come the quicker.

Then Jarrow followed suit. Locke, Trask, and Marjorie remained for an hour's chat in the darkness after which Trask was left to himself to finish his cigar.

"Good luck, Mr. Trask," Marjorie had whispered, as she went down the companion, and he touched her hand playfully.

He remained in his deck chair for some time, with only the friendly glow of his cigar to keep him company, wondering how it would all end. For all his impatience to get to the island, now that it was lying there within stone's throw behind the whisper of the waves washing its beach, he was sorry they had arrived so soon. For if there should be no gold on the island, it would be a case of turning back, and a couple of days more would see them in Manila, and Marjorie Locke homeward bound with her father. But if there should be gold! Well, that might give this voyage a new aspect, it might alter his own fortunes in such way that he could tell Marjorie Locke that he loved her.

Of course, if Dinshaw's discovery proved to be only a pocket, or no gold at all, that would put an end to things. But if there was gold in quantities that would pay for mining it, his own share might be a good stake in life. His future hung on the old man's story, that is his future considered with Marjorie Locke, and Trask had now come to the point of not being able to consider his own future alone, although he did not realize that wholly. It was a thought he kept in the back of his mind for fear it might turn out to be only a dream.

He threw his cigar into the sea, and stood up suddenly. There was a queer noise from the break of the poop. It sounded as if someone who had been startled had fled. He did not move for several minutes. Then it came back to him that there were other things to consider besides the success of this venture in gold and his future with Marjorie Locke.

The schooner was quiet, ominously quiet. The queer noise had jarred his nerves, and now he began to wonder if there was not some menace about the decks.

He heard the main shrouds creak as if someone were going aloft and then a rustle like a whispered caution.

Without a warning, he turned and stepped abruptly into the shaft of light which came up through the companion, and went below to his room, where he shut himself in.

Whatever he did, he knew it would have to be carried on with all caution. He would have to meet sneaking and spying with the same tactics, but he was determined to keep watch throughout the night.