Читать книгу The Secret Chart; or, Treasure Hunting in Hayti - Otis James - Страница 6

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Gil and Nelse, who had expected to see an island of fair proportions, were considerably disappointed on reaching the deck at the scene before them.

A long, low stretch of sand, hardly rising above the level of the ocean, could be distinguished directly ahead, and was about as uninviting a place as one could find. Toward the eastward the surf broke with considerable violence, and this it was, rather than the key itself, which attracted attention to the spot.

Already preparations were being made to lower one of the boats, and Gil asked his father:

“How near can we go to land?”

“It isn’t safe to venture very far across. It is all shoal water to the westward of us, and I shall hold the schooner off about a mile.”

“Do you see any signs of them?”

“The smoke is enough to show they’re keeping a pretty sharp lookout,” and Captain Mansfield pointed to a thin thread of blue, which had been unnoticed by the boys until this moment. “That is a signal which they started the moment we hove in sight; but it’s dying down, now we’ve shown our intention of running toward them.”

Ten minutes later the boys could distinguish, by aid of the glass, a number of figures on the beach, and Nelse said, with a laugh:

“Andy will be more certain than ever that the voudoos have had a hand in this business when he finds out how many extra men he is obliged to cook for. It looks to me as if there were at least a dozen.”

“Fully as many as that,” Captain Mansfield added, “and we shall be crowded uncomfortably for a while; but, fortunately, Nassau isn’t so far away that we need worry very much about lack of room.”

At this moment the old darkey came on deck, and Gil shouted:

“There’s a whole crowd of them! The voudoos have sent us lots of company.”

Andy looked from the captain to the key in a sort of bewilderment, and one of the sailors, who stood near him, said:

“You’ll have your hands full now, cookee, for we’re likely to add twelve or fifteen to this schooner’s crew.” Andy raised his arms above his head, as if in despair, and then turning suddenly, ran below to the galley, from which place he did not emerge again until it was time to serve dinner.

The schooner was hove to, when it seemed to the boys as if she was a very long distance to the eastward of the key; but, as a matter of fact, she was on the edge of the bank, and as near in shore as it was safe to venture.

One of the small boats was lowered, and two sailors rowed toward the shore.

The mate of the yacht—Job Jenkins, a young man not more than twenty-five years of age—was leaning over the rail near where Gil and Nelse stood, and after watching the men as they pulled the tender around to the western shore of the key, to avoid the heavy breakers, he said, petulantly:

“I ain’t a-sayin’ but what it’s our duty to take that crowd off; yet it’s bound to use up the rest of this day, and by sunset there won’t be so much as a breath of air stirring.”

“Better a calm than a hurricane,” Gil replied, with a smile.

“I’m not so sure of that. The yacht can hold her own under considerably more than a capful of wind, and I had rather see her driving through the worst kind of a smother than lying here with that mob on board.”

“Mr. Jenkins, can you make out any wreckage hereabouts?” Captain Mansfield asked, lowering the glass which he had been using.

“No, sir, and that is just what has been puzzling me. I don’t understand how so many could have reached the key without some kind of a craft, and if any vessel large enough to carry such a crew had gone ashore within the past three weeks, the hull should be held by the sand.”

“It has an odd look,” the captain replied, as he walked farther aft to get a view from another point.

By this time the tender had gained the shore, and the shipwrecked party, after quarreling among themselves, made a rush for the boat.

“At least four trips will be necessary in order to get them all on board,” Jenkins suggested, and Captain Mansfield replied:

“Unless they are in a bad condition, which doesn’t appear to be the case, let them do a portion of the work. One man is enough to take the boat back, and the strangers can pull out to us.”

Gil and Nelse watched eagerly as the first load approached the yacht, and a scrutiny of the newcomers was not at all favorable to them as good specimens of sailors.

They were a thoroughly disreputable-looking set, bearing no evidences of hardship, and the boys fancied all were more or less under the influence of liquor.

“Well,” Captain Mansfield said, as the first one, a bushy-whiskered man, who appeared to be the leader, came over the rail; “you don’t seem to be in as desperate straits as I fancied would be the case when I found the gull.”

“So you got the writin’, eh?” the man replied, with a laugh. “I thought Johnson was wastin’ his time when he laid ’round a couple of days tryin’ to catch the bird; but it has turned out mighty lucky for us, after all.”

“What vessel are you from?”

“What vessel are you from?” See page 32.

“The brig Mary and Jane, from Savannah for Nassau, with an assorted cargo. There must have been a fire in the hold when we left port, for we fought it from the second day out until it got the best of us, and we had to leave the old hooker.”

“Were you the captain?”

“Not much. He and the mates took the only boat that would swim, and left us to shirk for ourselves.”

“Do you mean to say that they deserted the crew?” Captain Mansfield asked, watching the man sharply:

“That’s jest the size of it. My mates and I made shift to get to the key, an’ there we’ve been ever since.”

It was some seconds before Gil’s father spoke again, and the sailor shuffled about uneasily under his searching gaze.

“You said you were without water.”

“We haven’t had a drop since we landed; but a couple of casks of rum come ashore, an’ we’ve managed to get along with that.”

“Did you scuttle the brig before leaving her?”

“There was no chance to do anything of the kind. We kept her headed for the key till the fire got the best of us, and she was in a light blaze when we saw her last.”

“How many are there of you?”

“Fourteen all told.”

“It’ll be snug stowing; but we’ll run for Nassau, and land you as soon as possible,” and Captain Mansfield turned as if to intimate that the interview was at an end.

“You’ll have to take deck passage, for there are only four bunks in the forecastle, and they are all filled,” Mr. Jenkins said, as he motioned the men forward.

“All right. Of course, we’re willin’ to stand our share of the work,” the man replied, as he slouched along the deck with a swaggering air.

“We’ve got crew enough, and in a small craft like this, you would only be in the way.”

Then the mate gave orders that the sailors should return with the boat, and the little craft was headed for the shore once more, while the newcomers covertly examined the yacht, as if they had a personal interest in her sea-going qualities.

The captain appeared to be so disturbed in mind that neither Gil nor Nelse ventured to ask him any questions relative to the men whom he was taking off the key; the boys stood amidships, where they could see all that was going on, and as Captain Mansfield paced to and fro, only stopping now and then to exchange a few words with Mr. Jenkins, Nelse whispered:

“I don’t think your father is any too well pleased at having so many people aboard.”

“I’m certain he isn’t, and can’t wonder at it. They are a tough-looking set, and could make no end of trouble, if they were so disposed.”

By this time the second load had come from the key, and were no more prepossessing in appearance than the first arrivals.

Captain Mansfield questioned them sharply, receiving in substance the same replies as from the others, and when the boat was headed for the shore again, he called Mr. Jenkins to him.

Eager to know what was said, Gil motioned Nelse to follow him, and the two went aft where the conversation could be overheard.

“What do you think of the story they tell?” Captain Mansfield asked his mate.

“It isn’t reasonable, and I believe it has been cooked up for our especial benefit. That all the officers of a brig should abandon the crew doesn’t sound reasonable.”

“I am of the same opinion. They have either deserted from their vessel, or mischief has been done.”

“In case it was nothing more than desertion, they would have had a boat.”

“The same argument holds good under other and more desperate circumstances.”

“Very true, sir.”

“We may never learn the truth; but we can take every precaution against trouble. Keep your eyes open, Mr. Jenkins, and don’t give them an opportunity to play us any game.”

“I will see to it that they haven’t much rope aboard this craft,” the mate replied, and then the conversation was interrupted by Andy’s announcement that dinner was ready.

The third boatload had not come off when the boys went into the cabin, and there saw the old darky looking thoroughly distressed.

“What’s the matter?” Gil asked, while they were waiting for his father to come below.

“Say, honey, does you know how many ob dese yere sailors am comin’ aboard?”

“Fourteen.”

“An’ am all ob dem gwine ter stay on de yacht?”

“There’s no other place for them until we can make Nassau.”

“Den you hark to wha’ de ole man am tellin’ yer,” and Andy looked cautiously around to make sure no one from the deck could hear him. “Dis yere cruise am boun’ ter end in trubble, an’ ef de captain keeps de yacht pinted for Hayti, we’se nebber gwine ter git back.”

“Is this another case of the voudoos?” Nelse asked, with a laugh.

“Now, don’ make fun ob wha’ de ole man tells yer, honey, an’ ef dere’s a chance to ’swade de captin ter turn ’roun’ when we strikes Nassau, go fur him lively.”

“It isn’t likely father would put the schooner about, simply because of what the voudoos might do, and if we should say anything, it might only make matters worse.”

At this point Captain Mansfield came below, and Andy, looking decidedly distressed, began to serve the meal.