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

As quickly as he could, old Jacob procured a life line and threw it toward the lad.

But the line fell short and Leander gave another scream.

"Throw me a long knife, and I'll try to help him," said Dick. "He shan't perish if I can help him."

"No, no, boy; it may cost you your life," shuddered Robert Menden. "All of you had better come on board as quickly as you can."

But none of the members of the Gun and Sled Club would listen to this. They had stuck together before in extreme peril, and they would do the same again.

"Keep up; we are coming!" shouted Dick, and having procured a long kitchen knife he swam toward Leander with all speed. Soon the others had armed themselves in a similar fashion and were following. Even faithful old Dash seemed to realize that something was wrong, and with a loud splash he, too, went over the yacht's side.

"They have grit, as you Americans would say," observed Robert Menden. "What do you think it is?"

"We'll know in a minit," replied old Jacob, and rushed for a gun.

By this time poor Leander was utterly exhausted. The thing about his legs was growing tighter and tighter and pulling downward so heavily that the barrel to which the boy clung was almost totally submerged.

"Save me!" he gasped once more. "I'm going down! It's pulling me under!"

"I'm coming!" answered Dick. "What is it? Can't you make out?"

"Something slippery and slimy. Oh, save me!"

"If it was a devil-fish we'd see something of it," thought Dick, and he dashed in and then under water. In a moment he had hold of Leander's legs and was slashing away vigorously with his knife – at a mass of drifting seaweed!

It was a tough job; but once Dick knew he had not some animal to contend with, or monster of the deep, he grew calmer, and in a minute more Leander was free, and the others were helping him back to the yacht.

Dick brought with him some of the seaweed, which was dark green in color and covered with a whitish slime which gave one a shiver to touch.

Poor Leander was too exhausted to stand, upon reaching the deck, and had to be assisted to the cabin, where he was rubbed down and put to bed.

All on board examined the seaweed with interest.

"It's alive; don't ye forgit thet," observed old Jacob. "An' if Leander hadn't been cut away by Dick, he would have been pulled under, jest as sartin as if he had been tied to a rope. Sometimes thet seaweed covered an acre or more of the ocean. I don't know wot the scientific name is, but us old sailors used to call it Old Nick's hot-bed."

"And a hot-bed it must make," put in Don. "I don't think I want to go swimming around here again."

"The weed winds around anything that it happens to touch, and then it begins to contract, and that pulls the thing down. Many a poor sailor has lost his life through foolin' with Old Nick's hot-bed," concluded old Jacob.

On the day following, the breeze freshened once more, and the Dashaway bowled along merrily. Toward evening all hands began to watch for land, but it did not appear. Yet about nine o'clock in the evening they sighted numerous lights clustered together almost directly south of the yacht.

"Must be the lights of Manati," observed old Jacob; and his surmise proved correct, and by morning they were running straight for the harbor of San Juan.

Now that the end of the long voyage was so close at hand, the boys and Robert Menden were impatient to go ashore, and the time was spent in making preparations for the trip to the great caves near Caguas.

"We may have some difficulty in taking our guns ashore," said Dick. "In that case we'll have to rely, perhaps, on our pistols."

"You won't be hunters after game on this trip," smiled Robert Menden. "You'll be after something of greater value."

"But we'll have to go armed," put in Bob. "I've heard that Porto Rico is full of old-fashioned Spanish brigands."

"There are brigands, but not as many as you perhaps imagine," said the Englishman. "Our greatest enemy will be Joseph Farvel – if he turns up."

"And he will surely appear sooner or later," said Don. "We had better be on our guard against him and any followers he may have picked up."

CHAPTER XI

THE CLUB ARRIVES AT SAN JUAN

The Island of Porto Rico boasts of but three cities of importance: San Juan on the north, Mayaguez on the west and Ponce on the south. The mountainous country back of the seacoast is dotted with hundreds of villages and hamlets; but the means of communication from one place to another are very poor, the best highway being the military road from San Juan to Ponce, a splendid bit of engineering, which, as previously mentioned, runs over mountains nearly, if not all, of four thousand feet high.

San Juan, the capital, is the principal city, especially so far as shipping is concerned, for its harbor is one of the best the island affords. The city contains about 30,000 inhabitants; natives, Spaniards and negroes, and foreigners from all over the world. It is wedged in along the shore, between two frowning forts of whitish stone and a long line of battlements, once kept in good order, but now fast tumbling into decay.

In the city itself there are two plazas; one at the city hall and the other near Fort Christobal – both great meeting-places, in the evenings, for native dames and maidens, young and old men, and children. It is a merry crowd, that smokes, sings, dances, listens to the band, and otherwise amuses itself.

As the Dashaway came to anchor in the harbor, all the boys viewed the shore with interest. They could see row after row of the flat, square houses, set up in long blocks, with narrow and not over clean streets between. About every second house had its second story project over the first, and balconies were to be found everywhere, sometimes causing the street below to be little better than a tunnel.

"All ashore that's going!" cried old Jacob, and the small boat was lowered, and the boys and Robert Menden entered, along with their weapons and other traps, and then the Yankee sailor pulled them to the nearest dock.

Here a harbor officer met them, and a long conference ensued. Then the Dashaway was visited by the San Juan officials and inspected, after which the craft was assigned to a proper position in the harbor. It was at first thought to leave old Jacob in charge of the yacht; but at the last moment a native was engaged to watch the craft, and the Yankee went along with "his boys," as he was wont to call them.

"Now, lads, are you all ready for the trip?" questioned Robert Menden.

"We are," came in a chorus.

"Remember, you may have some dangers to face. Don't go if you would rather remain behind."

"Who's afraid," came from Bob. "I'm not."

"Nor I!" came from the others.

"I'm out fer dat hundred dollars wot was promised to me," put in Danny. "Just youse lead de way an' I'll be close in yer footsteps, see if I ain't."

Each of the lads had provided himself with a hunting suit, and a small pack containing a change of underwear, comb and brush, and the like. All carried a little money, which, in the city, was exchanged for Spanish silver; for it was correctly surmised that the natives in the interior would not take United States coin. To-day that is, of course, changed, and Uncle Sam's coin or paper money is as good as any.

The party of seven soon found themselves on the main street of San Juan. Robert Menden had made some careful inquiries, and without delay they set off for Caguas.

They had hired a native turnout to take them to the place, but the driver failed to turn up, and at last they set out on foot for the village.

The many sights to be seen at every hand were very interesting. Here were the milk and fruit peddlers, each with his wares hanging from a yoke balanced over his broad shoulders. And here were funny looking ponies and donkeys with huge burdens strapped to their backs. Native carts were rather scarce, but occasionally one would come lumbering along, with its broad and almost solid wheels, and its team of oxen or cows. The driver would walk by the team's side, lashing them with a long whip and yelling at them continually in very bad Spanish.

The people also interested the boys. A large proportion of them were black, the blacks increasing in number as the seacoast was left behind. Most of the colored men looked friendly enough, but here and there could be found fellows of mixed Carib blood – tall, ugly looking creatures.

"I reckon they are the Porto Rican brigands," whispered Dick, as they passed three of the ugly looking Caribs. "I don't think I would care to meet them of a dark night along a lonely road."

"These people have good cause to be ugly," put in Robert Menden. "Spain has robbed the natives for years by taxing them to death, and I understand that in many places the church has fallen into disrepute because the clergy do everything they can to get the money away from the sugar and plantation workers. It's really a sad state of affairs."

On they went, until San Juan was left behind and they struck the military road previously mentioned. The walking was all uphill, but the ascent was so gradual that they scarcely noticed it. On both sides of the road grew tropical trees of all sorts – palms, mangoes, guavas, cedar, mahogany, and that wood which can be found almost anywhere – hemlock. There were also plantains and great cacti, and over all trailed immense tropical vines. Close to the deep, black soil grew magnificent ferns, and such mosses as the boys had never before seen.