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

The sound proceeded from a whistle which old Jacob was in the habit of using when he wanted to call one and another, and they happened to be out of calling distance. Rushing up the companionway, Dick gave one glance at the heavens and saw the reason for the summons. Half of the sky was literally black with clouds of wind and rain, and already behind the Dashaway could be seen the angry white-caps, growing larger and coming closer each instant.

"All hands on deck, and be quick about it!" he yelled. "Jacob, hadn't Leander better take the wheel?"

"Yes, and lose no time," answered the Yankee sailor, and as Leander relieved him, he ran forward with the other boys and began to stow away the mainsail. In the meantime Danny received orders to fasten down the hatch and close up all of the portholes.

"We're in for it, beyond a doubt," said Dick, as the breeze struck the yacht with increasing force, tearing savagely through the riggings and causing Don to shudder. The rain now began to fall, and all of the club members, and old Jacob donned their oilskins.

"We can't make the harbor now," announced the old Yankee. "If we tried it, we may run on the rocks and be smashed to pieces. We'll have to run out." And he threw the yacht over, something that made her dip considerably, and which sent more than one wave rushing over her bow.

The wind now commenced to shriek dismally, and the darkened sky was lit up with distant flashes of lightning, invariably followed by long, low rumbles of thunder.

"I can't see de use uf runnin' into dat storm," piped up Danny Guirk. "If I was runnin' t'ings I'd steer fer de land, dat's wot I would do."

"You be careful, or you'll go overboard – " began Bob, when a yell from Dick interrupted him.

"Here it comes, boys! Hold hard, all of you! My, but isn't it a corker!"

A ripping crack of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning drowned out the last of his words, and then the very heavens appeared to open, to let down a deluge of water that threatened to swamp the gallant yacht. A hurricane of wind followed, and the waves lashed and pounded the craft upon every side.

"By gum!" came suddenly from old Jacob. "Did any of ye see thet, boys?"

"See what?" demanded Don and Dick in a breath.

"The small boat over to starboard. She was bottom side up and somebody was a-clingin' to her!"

CHAPTER II

THE MAN FROM THE WRECK

All on board the Dashaway were intensely interested in the discovery old Jacob had made.

"You are sure you saw the small boat?" questioned Dick.

"I didn't see a thing," declared Don.

"Nor did I," added Leander.

"I saw the boat right enough, lads," returned the old Yankee tar. "It was out there," he pointed with his long forefinger. "Look! look!"

Another flash of lightning had lit up the firmament, making all as bright as day. Not fifty yards from the Dashaway all beheld an upturned rowboat, just rising to the top of one of the long ocean swells. To one end of the tiny craft a man was clinging desperately. It was possible that he was crying for help, but if so, the uproar of the storm drowned out his voice completely.

"Dat fellow will be lost sure!" burst out Danny Guirk. "Poor man, he must feel awful!"

"We must try to save him," came from Dick.

"That's true," said Don. "But how?"

"I don't see what we can do, with such a sea running," added Leander. "If we get much closer we'll run him down."

"We can go a little nearer, and then we can try to throw him a rope with a life preserver attached," concluded Dick.

To attempt to do more than keep the yacht headed in the teeth of the gale was a hazardous undertaking. Yet all on board the Dashaway realized that a human life was in peril, and that some risk must be run in order to effect a rescue, were such a thing possible.

"I can't see him now," said old Jacob, as the lightning seemed to subside for the time being. "It's as black as night."

"Let us fire up with a Bengal light," suggested Leander, and ran off for the article. Soon it was spluttering in the rain, but brightening up the scene about them for several hundred feet.

"Help! help!" came faintly to their ears, as the Dashaway drew closer to the upturned rowboat. "Don't leave me to perish! Help!"

"Catch the life line!" roared Dick, and whirling the article over his head, he let fly with all the strength and skill at his command.

It was a clever throw, the line shooting over the middle of the small boat and the life preserver hitting the water just beyond. The castaway caught hold of both, but hesitated about letting go of the rowboat that had so far saved him from a watery grave.

"Haul in, all of you!" cried Dick. "I'll stand at the rail with this boathook and try to keep him from being pounded on the yacht's side."

The young leader's instructions were obeyed, and slowly but surely the upturned boat and its occupant came closer. But then came a huge wave, and man and boat parted company and disappeared from view.

"Hold tight!" screamed Dick, as the man reappeared, and then he reached down with the boathook, and in a twinkle the rescued one came sprawling on the deck, while Dick slipped flat on his back.

The rescue had taken place none too soon, for now the storm increased in fury, and old Jacob lashed himself to the wheel, while ordering all of the others below.

"He has fainted," said Leander, as he knelt over the man who had been saved. "Let us carry him below;" and this was done. In the cabin the stranger was made as comfortable as possible and stimulants were administered; but it was a long time before he either spoke or moved.

The storm lasted all of the afternoon and the greater part of the night, and nobody thought of going to sleep.

"If you wanted an adventure, Leander, I guess you are getting it," remarked Don, grimly. "This is worse than that blizzard. I'll be thankful if we get out of this with whole skins."

"Dis is de greatest storm I ever seed," put in Danny. "If de boat shakes much more, everyt'ing in de crockery line will be gone to smash, dat's a fact," and he rolled off to secure his dishes and pans from such a catastrophe. Several dishes and glasses were wrecked, but not as many as Danny imagined.

The man who had been rescued was a heavy-set individual of twenty-five or thirty years of age, and Dick rightfully guessed that he was an Englishman. He had been struck on the head, and it was found that a nasty cut must be plastered up and then bound with a cloth.

"Poor fellow, he has certainly had a hard time of it," observed Don. "I'm glad we managed to save him."

"And so am I glad," returned Dick. "I'll wager he'll have a story worth telling when he gets around to it."

"Yes, I have a tale worth telling," came with a gasp from the sufferer; but having opened his eyes for a moment, he closed them again, and said nothing more for fully half an hour.

The fury of the storm had caused the Dashaway to move far out to sea, and when, at eleven in the morning, old Jacob announced that all danger was over, they calculated that it would take them twenty-four hours and more to reach Savannah, whither they had been bound for some extra ship's supplies.

"I don't care – so long as we have enough eating to last us," was Dick's comment. "I'm happy to escape with my life."

"And I am happy to think that we have been the means of saving somebody else," put in Don.

Both had gone on deck to see what old Jacob had to say about their next movement. They returned to the cabin to find the rescued man stirring again.

"You have saved my life, lads," were his first words. "I shall never forget you for that, never!" and he put out his hand feebly, for one and another to press.

"Did you fall overboard from some boat?" questioned Dick, kindly.