Young Hunters in Porto Rico/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
A FIRE AT SEA.
"Well, that's one of the greatest bicycle stories I ever heard!" cried Dick, when Robert Menden had concluded. "I reckon those train wreckers deserved their fate."
"I don't like to think of the affair, to tell the truth," replied the Englishman. "For a good many nights after it happened I scarcely slept a wink."
"I believe you," put in Leander. "No wonder you gave up wheeling. Anyway, it isn't as popular in England as it is here, is it?"
"Hardly; although you see more wheels in England every day," concluded Robert Menden.
Old Jacob had listened to the story with as much interest as any of the boys. "Tell ye what," he said, reflectively, "he kin, spin a yarn slicker nor most sailors kin, an' thet's saying a whole lot," and Dick agreed with the old tar.
The next day as the wind died down a bit, the boys went fishing in earnest. They used several kinds of bait, and were rewarded with several bass, two bluefish and several other specimens of the finny tribe, all of which were turned over to Danny.
"Dat's enough fish fer a week," was the Irish lad's comment. "Ain't dat bluefish a stunner!" and he held up the catch which had been brought in on Leander's line. The bluefish was done to a turn for supper, and never had anything tasted more delicious.
The boys had brought their faithful old dog, Dash, along, and this animal came in for a good share of attention.
"You see, we couldn't think of leaving him behind," explained Dick to the Englishman. "He went with us on that other outing, and he's as much a member of the club as Danny or any of us;" and Dash stood by, and wagged his tail, as if he understood perfectly what was being said.
"Dash and Dashaway!" laughed Robert Menden. "A good pair, truly;" and he patted the canine on the back. Dash took this very soberly, for he was rather slow in making new friends. But once a friend was made, the dog would stick to him through thick and thin, as Robert Menden found out later on.
Old Jacob and the others had studied the chart closely, and a direct course had been mapped out for San Juan, the capital city of Porto Rico, situated nearly in the center of the northern coast. This course would take them close to the great Bahama Bank and past many of the Bahama Islands.
"Are you sure you know the course?" questioned Dick of the old tar. "You know we don't want to be smashed up on some hidden rock."
"I know every mile of the way," returned old Jacob. "Don't ye fear, lad, but what I'll git ye through in safety;" and this speech relieved Dick a good deal, for he understood only too well how dangerous were the waters they were now sailing.
As they proceeded on their course, the boys questioned Robert Menden regarding the location of the caves, one which was supposed to contain the treasure.
"They are almost directly south of San Juan," said the Englishman. "The distance must be twenty or twenty-five miles. I think we can learn all we want to know on that score when we reach San Juan."
"Well, we can't get there any too quick for me," put in Bob. "I'm just crazy to locate that money box."
"I understand there is a grand military road from San Juan on the north to Ponce on the south," observed Leander. "The road travels over mountains over four thousand feet high. More than likely this road passes near the big caves."
For two days the wind blew at a lively rate and then toward night it seemed to die out utterly. They were now down to 24° north latitude, and the atmosphere was stifling.
"Finding that treasure is going to be hot work," observed Dick, as he mixed glasses of iced lemonade for himself and the others. "I reckon we'll earn what we get."
"How would you like to sail, up to the frozen North?" suggested Leander.
"Well, we stood the ice and snow all right enough last winter."
"So we did. But still, I don't mind this so very much."
By nine o'clock in the evening all hands were ready to retire. But it was Bob's trick on deck, and after receiving careful instructions from old Jacob as to how he should keep the yacht headed, he was left to himself. There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and countless stars shone down upon the polished deck of the Dashaway, so that everything could be seen quite clearly.
"Four hours of this will just about do me," thought Bob. He did not wish to own up to being sleepy, and to keep his eyes open he began to whistle softly to himself.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when the whistle died out and the boy gave a long yawn. Oh, if his trick would only come to an end! He knew that once in his bunk he would go fast asleep in less than a minute.
A few minutes more passed, and the tired boy leaned up against the brass-bound wheel. Then he straightened up and tried to whistle again. But the note died on his lips and then—he knew no more.
Bump! The shock awoke everybody on board, but no one quicker than old Jacob, who slept, as Dick expressed it, "with one eye open."
"What's the matter?" roared the Yankee tar, as he tumbled on deck, minus his shoes and the greater portion of his wearing apparel. "By gosh, Bob, ye air running her on the rocks!" and he ran with might and main for the wheel.
The shock had also aroused Bob, but the youth was too bewildered for a few seconds to do more than stare helplessly about him.
"Why—er—what—" he began, when the sight of a long line of breakers, coming over some hidden rocks dead ahead, almost paralyzed him.
He tried to throw the Dashaway over to starboard and then over to port, and the consequence of the two movements was to send the craft straight ahead as before.
"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!"