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

"Down with the mainsail!" roared old Jacob, and took the wheel from Bob. Then came a second bump, as the yacht slid up in the air over another rock. By this time all were on deck, only to be thrown headlong in several directions.

But each of the party understood that life or death depended upon his movements, and the mainsail came down with a bang. By this time the Yankee tar had the Dashaway well over to port, and he kept her hard down until she seemed to be turning a circle. The water was now boiling all around them, and a third shock was felt, although this was but a slight one.

"Can we get out of it?" whispered Bob. He could scarcely trust himself to speak. "If we go down it will be my fault!"

"We can try," returned old Jacob, shortly. "Now help put that mainsail up again."

Bob jumped in with a will, and as the canvas filled, a long tack was made, and the Dashaway proceeded to the south of the angry breakers and the rocks which had almost lured her to her doom. The boys and Robert Menden held their breath for fully a minute, when old Jacob announced that immediate danger was past.

"How in the name of goodness did ye steer in thar?" demanded the Yankee tar, when he felt in the humor to speak. "I didn't tell ye to do it."

"I – I – " Bob hung his head. "I'm afraid I dozed over the wheel, Jacob. I was terribly tired."

"Dozed!" roared the old tar. "Bob Hobart, I'm ashamed on ye, thet's what I am. Dozed! An' the Dashaway going ahead full split, ready to knock the hull bottom out on the rocks. Dozed! Well, don't ye ever do it ag'in, thet's all!"

"I never will, Jacob; rest assured of that," pleaded Bob. "I should have called somebody."

"Thet's it." The old tar turned to the crowd about him. "No dozing over the wheel after this," he said, sternly. "The fust one to do it gits – gits – "

"Gets fined five dollars and his dinner," finished Dick.

"He ought to have the lash," growled old Jacob. "We can't afford to allow it, nohow."

And it was several days before he could fully forgive Bob for his thoughtless action. My young readers can rest assured that no one on board ever dozed over the steering wheel again, day or night, whether they were close to shore or many miles out to sea.

Since throwing in his fortunes with them, Robert Menden had become quite a seaman, and he was always ready to do any work assigned to him. He liked to steer, and often took one of the boy's places if that individual wished to do something else.

"I was brought up to work," he said; "and this life on the ocean wave just suits me."

"I like it myself," smiled Dick. "Still, I can't say that I would care to tie myself down to a sailor's life."

"Nor me, for the matter of that. But such a trip as this is very nice."

Nearly a week slipped by, and they were well on their journey, when Danny was taken sick. He was not bad enough to be in bed, but still he went about his work listlessly.

"I'm afther thinkin' I want a sight o' land," he said, with a sickly smile. "I wasn't cut out fer no jack tar, not me."

That night old Jacob was left at the wheel, the Yankee tar having slept the greater part of the afternoon and evening. It was a blustery night, yet Dick, who was very tired, went to sleep with scarcely an effort.

Old Jacob had been left on deck alone less than half an hour, when a howl from Dash aroused him. The dog came toward him and repeated the howl, in the most dismal fashion imaginable.

"What is it, old fellow?" questioned the Yankee. "There is no moon to bay at. Are ye gittin' sick to keep Danny company?"

At this the dog set up a worse howl than ever, and then pointed his long nose in the direction of the galley. Old Jacob looked in the direction and saw a thin curl of smoke issuing through one of the windows.

"Jee-rusalem!" ejaculated the Yankee. In a twinkle he had fastened the wheel and was running to the galley with all speed. As he ran, Dash gave a loud bark, glad that he had been understood. One glance into the galley was enough for Jacob Ropes.

"Fire! fire!" he bawled, with all the strength of his powerful lungs. "Tumble on deck, boys; the Dashaway is on fire!"

CHAPTER IX

FIGHTING THE FLAMES

Old Jacob's loud cries soon aroused everybody. The first person to come up from below was Don, who looked as pale as a sheet.

"Is the yacht afire?" he gasped.

"The galley is," returned the old tar. "We've got to work lively if we want to save the Dashaway. Come; man the hose pump, while I get some buckets. And some of ye lower the sails. To run into this wind will only feed the flames."

By this time all the others were on deck, even Danny coming up, his head bound around with a towel.

"It's in de galley!" he groaned. "I t'ought dat fire was most out!"

He, too, ran for water, and so did Dick, while Leander and Bob began to work, first on the mainsail and then the jib, which, in less than two minutes were safely stowed away, although in a hasty, clumsy fashion.

Luckily the hose pump was handy, and soon a small stream was pouring into the galley from the window, the door having in the meantime been tightly closed, so that the fire might obtain no draught to feed upon. Then came old Jacob with some extra buckets, and a bucket brigade was formed by the old tar and Robert Menden.

It was hot work, and it must be confessed that everybody was thoroughly scared, feeling that if the fire once got beyond the galley, the yacht would be doomed.

"And what will become of us, then?" whispered Dick to Don. "We're completely out of sight of land."

"If the wust comes to the wust, we'll fill the small boat with provisions and take to that," said old Jacob. "But I think we can master these flames yet."

The sparks were now pouring from the windows of the galley at a lively rate, and soon a bright column of flame shot up.

"Dat's de pot uf grease!" groaned Danny. "I was so sick I didn't t'ink to put it away."

He was laboring as hard as any of them, working the hose pump with Don, who felt ready to drop with exhaustion.

"I'll go down in the hold and see if it's eating through the floor," said old Jacob, and disappeared through the hatchway.

All waited anxiously for what he might have to say. They heard him crawling about with care.

"No fire yet," he yelled. "But plenty of smoke. Work lively, an' keep it up, lads!" And then all hands went at it with renewed vigor.

Inside of five minutes their labors began to show some effect. The flames died away and only the thick smoke continued to pour from the galley.

"All of you fill your buckets, and then I'll open the door," said Dick, and his instructions were followed. At the draught a slight flame went up, but a single douse of water put it out; and then the conflagration was practically over.

But neither old Jacob nor any of the others were satisfied, and procuring a patch of old canvas, the Yankee tar soaked it thoroughly and then went into the galley alone and beat out all of the remaining sparks. Then lanterns were lit, and all hands took turns at inspecting the damage which had been done.

"It's not so great as I thought," said Dick. "The stove is all right, and all we'll have to do is to put up some new boarding on the sides and ceiling. But wasn't it a narrow shave!"

"That's what it was," answered Don, soberly. "I don't want another like it."

"Nor I," added Bob, and Leander shook his head doubtfully.

"I wonder how it started," was Robert Menden's question. "Danny, can you explain it?"