Young Hunters in Porto Rico: or, The Search for a Lost Treasure

"Sure an' I can't, sur, savin' to say that I was sick, an' maybe I didn't put the fire out very good, sur;" and Danny looked as if he had committed the greatest crime on earth. The origin of the fire was never fully explained, but probably Danny's view of it was correct.

The fire brought forth another lecture from old Jacob. "Ye can't be too careful, nohow," he said. "Ye want to see to it thet not a spark is allowed around. If the Dashaway had been burnt up, like as not most of us would have lost our lives."

"I am sure we'll all be careful in the future," said Dick.

"You kin bet I'll be on me guard, so I will," broke in Danny. "Dat fire most scared me into a fit, dat's wot it did."

The nights were now beautiful ones. A cloudless sky and millions of stars twinkled down upon the polished deck of the Dashaway as she bowled along before a steady breeze, which old Jacob declared was "jest about right, any way o' lookin' at it." It was cool, too, for that locality, and the balance of the trip promised to prove a most delightful one.

Passing along the Great Bahama Bank to the south of the Andros Islands, the course had been toward Acklin Island, on the southeast, and then past Providence Island, straight onward to a course five or six miles north of the upper coast of Hayti and Dominica.

"We might stop along the coast o' Dominica," observed old Jacob, one day, as he surveyed the distant coast line with his long telescope.

"I wouldn't stop unless it is necessary for stores," returned Robert Menden. "Remember, we want to get to Porto Rico just as quickly as possible."

"We have stores enough to last us to San Juan. I saw to thet afore we pulled up anchor at St. Augustine."

"Then we'll go right straight through," decided Dick; and as he was the owner of the Dashaway, that settled the matter.

But going right straight through was not such an easy matter as anticipated. Early on the following day a heavy fog set in, and by noon it was so thick that one could not see twenty feet ahead. At once old Jacob ordered the jib taken in, also the topsail, while the mainsail was closely reefed.

"This is one o' the wust places in the world fer a fog," was the Yankee tar's comment. "Afore ye know it if we ain't careful we'll run on a hidden bank. We must keep a strict watch, and keep the fog horn blowing until the fog lifts." And this was done, one and another taking his turn at the big horn until he was tired. Once, about seven o'clock, they heard an answering horn, which seemed to come closer and closer, but just as they felt they had good cause for alarm, the sound began to recede, until it was lost in the distance.

"This is reg'lar smugglers' weather," said old Jacob. "They love it, for they can land goods 'most anywhere, without the custom house officials being the wiser."

"Did you ever run across any smugglers?" questioned Don, who stood by.

"I did once – down on the coast o' Maine. They were bringin' in silk from Chiny, and I helped the revenue officers collar, six o' 'em – strappin' big fellers, too. Three o' the crowd were shot in the mix-up and one o' 'em died in the hospital from his wounds. It was in that muss that I got that," and the old sailor pointed to a long scar along his neck.

"Excuse me, but I want nothing to do with smugglers," shuddered Don. "They must be a bloodthirsty set."

"Some o' 'em are, lad – yet they ain't half so bad as the wreckers – the chaps as sets up false lights along shore to lure a vessel to her doom, so as they kin loot her. Those are the chaps as ought to be hung, every mother's son on 'em!" and old Jacob shook his head decidedly.

It was not until thirty hours had gone by that the fog began to lift, raised by a gentle breeze which sent the Dashaway on her course as lively as ever before.

"Off once more!" shouted Bob. "Hurrah!" and the others joined in the cheer. It was calculated that two days more would bring them within eight of Porto Rico, at a point near Manati, a city located directly in the center of the northern coast, and but a few miles to the westward of San Juan.

But once again their hopes were doomed to disappointment. The wind lasted only until sunrise the next morning, then died out utterly, leaving the sun to boil down on the deck with more fierceness than it had shown for some time.

"Confound the luck!" growled Dick, as he gazed at the idle sails of his craft. "I wonder how long this is going to last."

"Why not whistle for a breeze," suggested Bob, slyly. "I've heard that will fetch it."

"All right, Bob, you whistle," replied Dick.

"I'll tell you what I'd like to do," said Don. "I'd like to take a swim before we go ashore at San Juan."

"Hurrah! just the thing!" cried Leander, throwing up his cap. "We'll all go in together!" And he rushed down to the cabin, to don his bathing trunks. All of the other boys followed, even Danny taking part.

CHAPTER X

A SWIM NOT LIKELY TO BE FORGOTTEN

"You want to be on the lookout fer sharks," observed old Jacob, as he watched the boys' preparations.

"Gracious! Do you mean to say there are sharks around here?" ejaculated Leander.

"I don't see any, but there may be, nevertheless. Howsomever, I'll keep my weather eye open an' give ye warnin', if I see anything suspicious."

"I don't want any sharks in mine," put in Don, and hesitated a long while before entering the ocean. But when he saw the others diving about and having a good time, he could not resist the temptation to join them.

It was jolly sport. The water was just warm enough to be pleasant, and the waves were so light that there was little or no danger of being pounded against the yacht's sides. They dove and turned somersaults to their hearts' content, and then Dick proposed a race, and an empty barrel was thrown out behind the Dashaway.

"Each boy must swim to the right of the barrel and around it," cried out Robert Menden. "An extra piece of pie to the lad touching the rudder first on the return. Line up now. All ready?"

"Yes! yes!" was the cry.

"Then go!" And away went the five boys, shrieking and laughing wildly, while Robert Menden and old Jacob watched the sport with keen interest.

The barrel had floated all of a hundred and fifty feet away, so the race would be one of over a hundred yards. At first Dick was in the lead, but gradually Leander crawled up, with Bob, Don and Danny not far behind.

"I'm goin' to win dis race if I kin!" gasped the chubby Irish lad. "Dat extry pie is comin' to me, even if I has ter make it meself!"

"No, Danny, you'll make the pie for me!" laughed Bob, and forged ahead of all of the others.

At the turning point Bob led, with Leander, Dick, Don and Danny close behind. But now Leander began to play out, and at the barrel he paused for a second to gain his breath.

And then something awful happened – something that Leander will never forget as long as he lives.

Something cold and slimy brushed up against his legs and swiftly encircled them.

What the thing was, Leander could not imagine; but the yell he gave would have shamed an Indian on the war-path.

"Get out!" were his words, and he tried to kick the thing off; but his efforts were unavailing, and whatever it was, it drew about his legs closer and closer and then started to drag him under the surface of the ocean.

He yelled again; but his chums were too intent upon winning the race to pay much attention to him. "Come on, don't lag behind!" called out Dick. "You may win yet."

Before anybody noticed that something was wrong, Bob had reached the rudder post and had won. But now old Jacob was on his feet, and pointing excitedly to where Leander was clutching at the empty barrel and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Somethin' is wrong with the lad," said the old Yankee tar.

"Help! help!" screamed the terrified boy. "Something has me by the legs and is trying to pull me under!"

"Is it possible!" cried Robert Menden. He turned to the old sailor. "What can it be?"

"Don't know – maybe a devil-fish," was the answer.

"Help! don't leave me to die!" came from Leander. He had slipped from the barrel, but now he clutched it once more.