Dave Porter on Cave Island: or, A Schoolboy's Mysterious Mission

“Just look at the ocean!” cried Dave, as he and his chums walked to one corner of the entrance to gaze out.

“The waves seem to be mountain-high,” returned Phil. “You wouldn’t think it possible a ship could live on such a sea.”

“Well, it is mighty dangerous, Phil; you know that as well as I do.”

“I hope the Golden Eagle weathers the storm.”

“We all hope that.”

Dinner was a rather scanty meal, cooked with great difficulty in a hollow of the rocks. The smoke from the fire rolled and swirled in all directions, nearly blinding everybody. But the repast was better than nothing, and nobody grumbled.

By nightfall the rain ceased. But the wind was almost as strong as ever, and when those in the cave ventured outside they had to be on guard, for fear a flying tree-branch would come down on their heads.

Captain Sanders was much worried over the safety of his vessel, but he did not let on to the boys, since it would have done no good. But the lads understood, and they, too, were more or less alarmed, remembering the fate that had overtaken the Emma Brower in a storm that had been no worse than the present one.

With so much rain driving in, the cave was a damp place, and the boys were glad enough to go outside. They looked for wood that might be easily dried, and after much difficulty, succeeded in starting up a new campfire, around which the whole crowd gathered.

“I’m goin’ to try my luck along shore,” said Billy Dill, and started off with Dave, Phil, and Roger, to see if any fish or turtles could be located. They found the shore strewn with wreckage.

“Oh, Billy, can this be from our ship?” exclaimed Phil, in alarm.

“I don’t think so, lad. Looks to me like it had been in the water some days. I reckon it’s from the Emma Brower, or some other craft.”

In the wreckage they found the remains of several boxes and barrels. But the contents had become water-soaked or had sunk to the bottom of the sea; so there was nothing in the shape of food for them. They also came across the mainmast of the bark, with some of the stays still dragging around it.

“That will do for a pole, in case we wish to hoist a flag,” suggested the senator’s son.

They found neither fish nor turtles, and at last had to return to the campfire disappointed. There was next to nothing to eat for supper.

“Well, better luck in the morning,” said Captain Sanders, with an air of cheerfulness he did not feel. “As soon as this wind dies down our ship will come back, and then we’ll have all we want to eat.”

It was a long, dreary night that followed, and the boys were glad to behold the sun come up brightly in the morning. Dave was the first up, but his chums quickly followed, and all went down to the beach, to look for fish and also to see if the Golden Eagle was anywhere in sight.

This time they had better luck, so far as food was concerned. In a hollow they found over a score of fish that had been cast from the ocean by the breakers, and they also found a fine turtle that was pinned down by a fallen tree.

“That’s a new way to catch a turtle,” remarked Dave. “It’s a regular trap.”

“Turtle soup, yum! yum!” murmured Phil.

“And broiled fish, – all you want, too!” added Roger, smacking his lips.

When they got back to the camp they found that the fire had been renewed, and soon the appetizing odor of broiling fish filled the air. Then Captain Sanders and one of the castaway sailors came in from a walk in another direction, carrying an airtight canister, which, on being opened, was found to contain fancy crackers.

“There is a good deal of wreckage down on the beach,” said the captain. “We’ll inspect it after breakfast.”

Having eaten their fill of the fish and the crackers, and leaving Billy Dill and some of the others busy making turtle soup, the boys and Captain Sanders took another walk along the beach, to look over the wreckage and also see if they could sight the Golden Eagle, or locate Jasniff or Merwell.

“I hope we can find those two fellows,” said Dave. “I can stand this suspense no longer. I must know what has become of those jewels!”

CHAPTER XXIII – A STRANGE DISCOVERY

A half-mile was covered when, on turning a point of rocks, the boys and the captain came to a sandy cove. Here was more of the wreckage, and the whole party ran down to the beach to investigate.

Boxes, barrels, and bits of timber were strewn from one end of the cove to the other, and in the mass were a number of things of more or less value – timber, food, and some clothing. There was also a trunk, but it was open and empty.

“Look!” cried Dave, suddenly, and pointed to a small, black leather case, that rested on some of the wreckage.

“What is it?” queried Phil and Roger, in a breath.

Dave did not reply, for he was crawling over the wreckage with care. Soon he reached the spot where the black leather case rested, caught on a nail, and he picked it up. The clasp was undone and the case fell open, revealing the interior, which was lined with white plush.

“Empty!” murmured Dave, sadly. “Empty!” There was a groan in his voice as he uttered the word.

“What is it, Dave?” asked the senator’s son, although he and Phil guessed the truth.

“It’s the Carwith jewel-case,” was the answer. “The very case that Mr. Carwith left with Mr. Wadsworth!”

“Are you certain?” demanded Phil.

“Yes, for here is the name, ‘Ridgewood Osgood Carwith,’ stamped in gold on the top.”

“And empty,” murmured the captain. “This looks bad,” and he shook his head, thoughtfully.

“Maybe Jasniff and Merwell took the jewels from the case,” suggested Roger, hopefully.

“It is possible, Roger. But – but – I am afraid the jewels are at the bottom of the ocean,” answered Dave, and his face showed how downcast he felt.

“They might have taken the jewels and divided them between themselves,” said Phil. “Maybe they put them in money-belts, or something like that. They might think that the sailors would rob them, if they saw the case.”

“It’s possible, Phil, and I hope you are right,” answered our hero. But in his heart he was still afraid that the gems had gone to the bottom of the Atlantic.

“I think we had better climb to the top of yonder rise and take a look around the island,” said the captain. “For all we know, the Golden Eagle may be on the other side. I sincerely hope she has weathered the storm.”

Placing the jewel-case in a safe place between the rocks, the party commenced to climb the rise of ground the captain had pointed out. This was no easy task, since the rocks were rough and there were many openings, leading to the caves below.

“We don’t want another tumble,” remarked Roger to Dave.

“Hardly, Roger; once was enough.”

The sun had come out strongly, consequently the water was drying away rapidly. It was very warm, and the boys were glad that they had donned thin clothing on leaving the ship.

At last they reached the top of the rise and from that elevation were able to see all but the southern end of Cave Island, which was hidden by a growth of palms.

Not a ship of any kind was in sight, much to the captain’s disappointment.

“Must have had to sail away a good many miles,” said Dave.

“Either that, lad, or else the storm caused more or less trouble.”