“It's her,” said Larry.
It was.
Turtle Island, too low in the water to be seen at that distance, showed as the hull of the Dulcinea became fully visible; Turtle Island without a tree, just a low-lying mass of rocks, foam bearded and clanged about by gulls, with the Dulcinea lying at anchor in fifteen fathoms a quarter of a mile from the shore.
They dropped anchor a couple of cable lengths away from the yacht and the Baltrum, tireless, for sails never tire, swung to her moorings, without loss of stick or rag for all her journey and just as though she were still swinging to the tide and the tune of the bell buoy in Hildersditch Pook.
CHAPTER XXV.
THEY TELL LARRY.
HOW?” asked James.
It was noon of the next day, the Baltrum, with the wind on her port quarter, was south of Turtle Island; and Crab Cay, if the charts and the reckoning did not lie, was due to be sighted somewhere about three o'clock. Sheila was down below with the two others giving them her opinion that the worst and most difficult part of the whole business was coming now.
“This way,” said Sheila. “It's just as if we had committed a murder and were trying to dispose of the corpse—I mean the difficulty is just the same. First of all Larry will see what we are doing, and secondly, there's Longley. I took him with us because we were undermanned, and secondly because he seems so stupid. I felt sure it was safe to bring him along, but it only occurred to me last night, as I was lying awake and thinking, that stupidity doesn't stop people from talking. He may suspect nothing, but he is sure to think it's queer when he sees us bringing ballast en shore at this island and burying it.”
“Naturally,” said James.
“Then if Mr. Morgan is 'wrong,' as I suspect him to be, he may question Longley.”
“We must keep them apart when we get to Havana, that's all.”
“Well, we must try and do that,” said Sheila. “Then there's Larry. I've always been afraid to tell Larry about the gold lest he'd lose his head and talk. It was a mistake. I ought to have told him and I think we ought to tell him now.”
“Why now?” asked Dicky.
“Because he will be able to help to keep Longley ignorant of what we are doing. They are sure to get talking together about it.
“Will he cut up rough at not having been told before?” asked James.
“Larry! Oh, no, he's too devoted to me for that. Let's call him down right now and get it over.”
A minute later the old sailor entered the cabin, shut the door at the command of Sheila and stood twiddling his cap and waiting for orders.
“Larry,” said Sheila, “I've got something to tell you of the greatest importance. If couldn't tell you before because it was a secret, and the secret was not all mine.”
“Yes, miss,” said Larry.
“It will be the most surprising thing you ever heard; and when you've heard it, you will know how important it was to keep it a secret. You know those metal blocks among the ballast?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Well, they aren't metal—they are gold.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Pure gold. They must have belonged to those two men who killed one another. No one has claimed them, so they are ours.”
“Yes, miss. I knew that long ago.”
“Knew it long ago! How on earth did you know it?”
“Sure I heard you talkin' about it, and me listenin' at the skylight,” said Larry.
“Oh, good gracious!” cried Sheila. “Listening!”
“I wasn't listenin' to hear,” said Larry, “but not havin' corks in me ears it come to me as I was settin' be the skylight mendin' a sail one day beyant there at Hildersditch. You and Mr. Sebright was talkin' and the ould hooker's a fiddle for carryin' sound. 'So they've got a saycret they're keepin' from Larry,' said I, and wid that I listened all the more.”
“You haven't said anything?” asked James.
“Me say anythin'!—it's me that's been bottlin' it, for if I hadn't tumbled to it the hands would have heard, and you chatterin' away about it down below. Many's the time I've called Hearn or Longley for'ard so they mightn't hear anythin' comin' up from the skylight. Me talk—faith, it's you that ought to be askin' that.”
“Never mind, Larry,” said Sheila. “Mr.
