Doubloons—and the Girl

But he had found her now, he wildly exulted. The search that might have taken years – that even then might not have found her – had come to an end. He had been formally introduced to her. He need no longer worship from afar. Her father was his friend. He could see her, talk to her, listen to her, woo her, and at last win her. Poor fellow! he was so hard hit he scarcely knew how to conduct himself.

"As I was saying," he heard the captain remarking in a voice that seemed to be coming from a great distance, "young Parmalee has finally made up his mind to come with us. His doctor insists that the one thing he needs just now is a sea voyage. Not the kind that he might get on an ocean steamer, with its formality and heavy meals and chattering crowds, but the kind you can get nowhere but on a sailing craft."

"I suppose you had to tell him just what we were going down there to look for?" Drew forced himself to say.

"Yes, I did, after putting him on his word of honor never to breathe a word about the object of the cruise to anybody. I'd as lief have his word as any one's else bond."

"What did he think about our chances in such an enterprise?"

"Now, there's a thing that rather surprised me," replied the captain. "To tell the truth, I felt a little sheepish about mentioning the doubloons to him, for I rather expected him to laugh. But he took it in dead earnest, and honestly thinks we have a chance."

"Is he perfectly willing, as far as his interest in the schooner goes, that she shall be used for this purpose?" Drew queried.

"Perfectly. In fact, he was enthusiastic about it. Wouldn't even hear of any compensation for the use of the vessel. Said he expected to get his money's worth in the fun he'd have."

"He seems to have a sportsmanlike spirit, all right," commented Drew, with a smile.

"He surely has," confirmed the captain. "I think you'll like him when you come to know him."

"How old is he?"

"About your own age I should judge. You're twenty-two, I think I've heard you say? Parmalee is perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four, but not more than that."

"Have you got your full crew shipped yet?" Drew inquired, after a pause.

"Well, some of them are aboard," was the answer. "We've got two dozen in round numbers, but we still need five or six more men before we get our full quota. Ditty's ashore looking them up now."

"Do you think they're going to suit you?"

"Oh, I've seen better crews and I've seen worse," answered the captain. "There are some of them whose faces I don't just like, but that's true in every ship's company. I guess they'll average up all right.

"There's one thing I want to show you," went on the captain, opening the door of a closet built into the cabin.

Drew looked, and was surprised to see as many as a dozen rifles, as well as several revolvers and a sheaf of machetes.

"Why, it looks like a small arsenal!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "What on earth will we want all these for? One might think that we expected to have a scrap ourselves with pirates on the Spanish Main."

"Not that exactly," said the captain laconically, "but in an enterprise like ours it's wise to take precautions. 'Better to be safe than be sorry.' If it's known that we're after treasure, there may be sundry persons who will take an unwholesome interest in our affairs."

"Do you mean members of the crew?"

"Not necessarily; though they may. It's not likely, for it's probably nothing but a turtle cay, but there may be people living on the island where we're going who would seriously dispute our right to take anything away and might try to stop us. Few of those small islands are inhabited; still, I'll feel a good deal more comfortable to know that I've got these weapons stowed away where I can get them at a moment's notice. By the way, do you know how to shoot?"

"Yes," answered Drew. "I belong to a rifle club, and I'm a fairly good shot with either a pistol or a gun."

"A useful accomplishment," commented the captain. "You never know when it may come in handy."

Drew was wild to go on deck again to talk with Ruth. He had scarcely exchanged three sentences with her, and there were a thousand things he wanted to say. The time was getting so terribly short! In two days more he would be sailing away with her father, leaving her behind, and months might elapse before he could see her again.

It was his eager desire just now to get her interested in him to some extent, so that she would think of him sometimes while he was away; to give her some hint of the tumult in his heart; to let her guess something of the wealth of homage and adoration she had inspired. Surely, if he could talk with her, she could not fail to see something of what he felt. And seeing, she might perhaps respond.

"I suppose you'll find it hard to leave your daughter behind?" he ventured to say.

The captain looked at him in surprise.

"Bless your heart, I'm not going to leave her behind!" he exclaimed. "She's going with us after those doubloons," and he laughed.

CHAPTER XII

A SATISFACTORY OUTLOOK

Drew was transported with delight, but he threw a certain carelessness into his tone as he observed:

"I remember. Does she know what we're going for?"

"Oh yes," replied her father. "She and I are great chums, and I don't keep anything from her. She wanted to go with me anyway when I was thinking of taking on a cargo for Galveston, and now that she knows treasure is in the wind, she's more eager than ever. You know how romantic girls are, and she's looking forward with immense pleasure to this unusual venture of ours."

Drew would have liked to ask whether the captain's wife were going too, but he felt that he might be treading on delicate ground, so he used a round-about method.

"I don't suppose there'll be any other women in the company?" he said lightly.

"No," replied the captain, a little soberly. "When my wife was alive she used to go with me occasionally on my voyages. The schooner's named for her. But she's been dead for three years now, and as Ruth is the only child I have, she and I will be thrown together more closely than ever. She's finished school.

"But I'm keeping you," he added, rising from the table at which they had been sitting; "and I suppose you've got more work on your hands than you know how to attend to."

Drew rose with alacrity.

"I am pretty busy, for a fact," he assented. "That accident to Mr. Grimshaw has just about doubled my work. But it isn't getting the upper hand of me, and by the time we are ready to sail I'll have tied all the lose ends."

"That's good. By the way, speaking of Tyke, how did you find him this morning? I suppose you stopped in at the hospital on your way downtown as usual?"

"Yes. He's getting along in prime shape, but he's as sore as the mischief because he can't go along."

"It's too bad," remarked the captain sympathetically. "I'd have liked to have him along, not only for his company, but for his shrewdness as well. He's got a level head on those shoulders of his, and his advice at times might come in mighty handy.

"I won't go on deck with you, if you'll excuse me," continued the captain, reaching out his hand for a farewell shake, "because I've some work to do in connection with my clearance papers. Good-bye."

The young man was perfectly willing to be deprived of the captain's further company, much as he liked him. The captain's daughter would make a very good substitute. He hoped ardently that she, unlike her father, would have no business to keep her below.

His hopes were realized, for he caught sight of her leaning on the rail and gazing out upon the river with as much absorption as though she had never seen it before.

Possibly it did interest her. Possibly, too, she had forgotten all about the handsome young man who was in conference with her father in the cabin. Possibly she had not been stirred by the adoration in his eyes or the agitation in his voice. So many things are possible!

Anyway, despite a heightened color in her cheeks and a starry brightness in her eyes, her start of surprise, as she looked up and saw Drew standing beside her, was done very well indeed.

"So you conspirators have got through plotting already," she said lightly.

"Yes," Drew laughed; "we've been going over every link of the chain and have decided that it is good and strong. Not that my judgment was worth very much, I fear, this morning."

"Why not?" she asked demurely.

"Because I couldn't put my mind on it," he answered. "My wits were wool gathering. I scarcely heard what your father said. I'm glad he isn't a mind reader."

"So few people are."

"I wish you were," he said earnestly.

She stiffened a little, and from that he took warning. He must check the impetuous words that strove for utterance. He had but barely met her. How was she to know the feelings that had possessed him since their casual encounter on the pier? He must not frighten her by trying to sweep her off her feet. This citadel was to be captured, if at all, by siege rather than by storm. He would risk disaster by being premature.

"Do you know," he said in a lighter tone, "that it was the surprise of my life when I found that your name was Hamilton?"

"Why should it have been a surprise?" she asked.

"Because I had been thinking all along that your name was Adams."

"What made you think that?" she inquired in genuine surprise.

"W – why," he stammered, "I saw that name on one of the letters when I picked up the packet from the grating of the boat."

She flushed.

"You mustn't think," he said earnestly, "that I tried to pry. If I'd done that, I'd have found out the address at the same time. The name just looked up at me, and I couldn't help seeing it."

His tone carried conviction, and she unbent.

"I can see how you made the mistake," she smiled. "The letter on top of the packet was addressed to a very dear friend whose first name happens to be the same as mine. She and I were great chums in boarding school. The letter had been sent to her by a girl we both knew and who had been traveling abroad, and as Ruth knew I would be interested in it, she sent it on for me to read."

"That explains the foreign stamp," he commented.

"You noticed that too, did you?" she asked, flashing a mischievous glance at him. "Really, you took in a lot at a single look. You ought to be a detective."

"I wish I were," said Drew, as he thought ruefully of the unavailing plans he had made to find her. "I'm afraid I'm a pretty bungling amateur."

"Well, you were only half wrong, anyway," she answered. "The first part of the name was right."

"Yes," he admitted. "But that didn't help me much. The last one didn't either for that matter. There are so many Adamses in the city."

"How do you know?" she challenged.

He grew red. "I – I looked in the directory," he confessed.

She thought it high time to change the subject.

"I suppose it will be quite a wrench to say good-bye to your people here," she remarked.

"I haven't any," replied Drew. "My father and my mother died when I was small. The only brother I have is out West, and I haven't seen him for years. I've been boarding since I came to the city, five years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with ready sympathy. "I know something of how you feel, because I lost my own mother three years ago. I've been in boarding school most of the time since then. So I know what it is to be without a real home. Sometimes our only home was on shipboard."

"But it's always possible to make a real home," said Drew daringly. Then he checked himself and bit his lip. That troublesome tongue of his! When would he learn to control it?

She pretended not to have heard him.

"I have my father left," she went on; "and he's the best father in the world."

"And the luckiest," put in Drew.

"He didn't want to take me on this trip at first," she continued, "but the most of my relatives and friends are in California, and I knew I'd be horribly lonely in New York. So I begged and teased him to let me go along, and at last he gave in."

"Of course he would," Drew said with conviction. "How could he help it?"

He knew that if she should ask him, Allen Drew, for the moon he would promise it to her without the slightest hesitation. He wished he dared tell her so.

"Have you ever been to sea?" she asked.

"No," replied Allen. "But I've always wanted to go."

And he told her of the longing that had sprung up in him when Captain Peters had spoken so indifferently about the wonder-lands of mystery and romance to which his bark was sailing.

While he talked, she was studying him closely, as is the way of girls, without appearing to do so. She noted the stalwart well-knit figure, the handsome features – the strong straight nose, the broad forehead, the brown eyes that sparkled with animation.

Drew was at his best when he talked, especially when his audience was attentive, and there was no doubt that his audience of one was that. She listened almost in silence only putting in a word now and then.

The thought came to him that he might be boring her, and he stopped abruptly.

"If I keep on, you'll be talked to death," he said apologetically.

"Not at all," she protested. "I've been intensely interested. I'm glad you feel so strongly about far-off places, because you're sure to find plenty of romance where we are going."

"And treasure, the doubloons, too – don't forget the doubloons," he laughed, lowering his voice and looking around to see that no one was listening.

"And that too," she agreed. "I suppose you've spent your share already?" she bantered.

"Well, I'm not quite so optimistic as all that," he laughed. "But I really think we have a chance. Don't you?"

"Indeed I do!" she exclaimed. "I don't think it's a wild goose chase at all!"

"I'm glad you feel that way about it."

"Even if things go wrong, we can't be altogether cheated," she went on. "We'll have had lots of fun looking for our treasure. Then, too, we'll have had the voyage, and the schooner is a splendid sailing craft."

"She's a beauty," assented Drew. "I don't wonder you're proud of her."

"It was really quite flattering that you men should tell me what you were going for," she said mockingly. "You're always saying that a woman can't keep a secret."

"I don't feel that way," protested Drew. "And to prove it, I'll – "

"Listen!" said Ruth hurriedly. "Wasn't that my father calling me?"

"I didn't hear him," he replied, looking at her suspiciously.

"I think I'd better go and make sure," decided Ruth, moved by a sudden impulse of filial duty.

"Let him call again," suggested Drew.

But Ruth was sure that this audacious young man had said quite enough for one morning, and she held out her hand.

"Good-bye," she smiled. "I know from what my father has told me that you have an awful lot to do to get ready for the trip."

"Have I?" rejoined Drew. "I'd forgotten all about them."

They laughed.

He held the soft hand and fluttering fingers a trifle longer than was absolutely necessary, and after he released them he stood watching her lithe figure until she disappeared.

When Drew left the Bertha Hamilton he was treading on air and his head was in the clouds.

His dream had come true – part of it at least. He had found her, had talked with her. He was going to sail in the same ship with her. They would be thrown together constantly in the enforced intimacy of an ocean voyage. He would see her in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. And at last he would win her. The last part of his dream would be realized as surely as the first had been.

But when he got back to the shop he found that he was in a practical world whose claims refused to be ignored. Winters still needed a lot of coaching, and the time was short. The business must not suffer while Drew was gone.

One thing lifted from his shoulders some of the weight of responsibility. Tyke would be at hand to superintend things and to keep a check on Winter's inexperience. To be sure, he would be in the hospital for some time to come, but Winters could go to see him every evening, and get help in his problems.

The Bertha Hamilton was to sail at high tide on Thursday morning, and by Wednesday night Drew had sent his baggage on board and had settled the last item that belonged to Tyke's part of the contract. Everything from now on was in the hands of Captain Hamilton.

He went up to the hospital to report to his employer and to say farewell. They talked long and late, and both were strongly moved when they shook hands in parting. Who knew what might happen before they met again? Who knew that they ever would meet again?

"Good-bye, Mr. Grimshaw," said Drew. "I hope you'll be as well and as strong as ever when I get back."

"Good-bye, Allen," responded Tyke, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. "I'll be rooting for you an' thinking of you all the time. Good-bye an' good luck."

At daybreak the next morning Drew stepped on board the Bertha Hamilton and the most thrilling experience of his life had begun.

CHAPTER XIII

STORM SIGNALS

Naturally Drew's first thought as he glanced about the vessel, was of Ruth. But it was too early for the young lady to be in evidence.

Captain Hamilton met him with a cordial grasp of the hand, and took him down to the room assigned to him for the voyage. It was one of a series of staterooms on either side of a narrow corridor aft, and, although of course small, it was snug and comfortable.

There was a berth built against one side of the room. Apart from a tiny washstand, with bowl and pitcher, and a small swinging rack for a few books, a chair completed the equipment of the stateroom. The room was immaculately neat and clean, and in a glass on the washstand was a tiny bunch of violets. Drew wondered who had put it there.

"Rather cramped," laughed the captain; "but we sailors have learned how to live in close quarters, and you'll soon get used to it. There are some drawers built into the side where you can put your clothes, and your trunk and bags can go under the berth."

Drew, with his eyes and thoughts on the flowers, hastened to assure the captain that there was plenty of room.

"The stateroom next to yours, I had set aside for Tyke," said Captain Hamilton regretfully. "It's too bad that the old boy isn't coming. The one on the other side is Parmalee's."

"I suppose he hasn't come aboard yet?" half questioned Drew, as he unstrapped his bags, preparatory to putting their contents in the drawers.

"Oh, yes he has," returned the captain. "He came aboard last night. I suppose he's still asleep. Haven't heard him stirring yet."

"What time do you expect to pull out?" asked Drew.

"Almost any minute now. We've got everything aboard and we're only waiting for the tug that will take us down the bay. The wind's not so fair this morning."

The captain excused himself and went on deck, and a little later, having finished his unpacking, the younger man followed him.

The one person on whom his thoughts were centered was still invisible, and Drew had ample time to watch the busy scene upon the schooner's deck. The members of the crew were hurrying about in obedience to shouted orders, stowing away the last boxes and provisions that had come on board.

The sails were in stops ready to be broken out when the vessel should be out in the stream. A snorting tug was nosing her way alongside. A slight mist that had rested on the surface of the water was being rapidly dissipated by the freshening breeze, and over the Long Island horizon the sun was coming up, red and resplendent.

Drew made his way along the deck until he came near the foremast, where the mate was standing, bawling orders to the men. He was a tall, spare man, and in his voice there was a ring of authority, not to say truculence, that boded ill for any man who did not jump when spoken to. His back was toward Drew, but there was something about the figure that seemed familiar.

While he was wondering why this was so, the man turned, and, with amazement, Drew saw that the mate of the Bertha Hamilton was the one-eyed man with whom he had had his unpleasant encounter upon the Jones Lane wharf.

There was a flash of recognition and plenty of insolence in that one eye as it was turned upon Drew, but the next moment the man had turned his back and was again bellowing at the sailors.

Drew had a feeling of discomfort. He knew from the look the mate had given him that he still cherished malice. It was unpleasant to have a discordant note struck at the very outset of the voyage. And then, there was the suspicious circumstance of Grimshaw's accident. A one-eyed seaman had figured in that. Should he go to Captain Hamilton and report his vague suspicions of this fellow?

He had no time to pursue the thought, however, for at that moment he heard the clang of a gong, and an ambulance came dashing out on the pier just as the moorings of the Bertha Hamilton were about to be cast off.

Drew's first thought was that an accident had happened, and he hurried over to the starboard rail. The ambulance had stopped, and two white-clad attendants were helping out a man who had been reclining on a mattress within. They stood him on one foot while they slipped a pair of crutches under his arms. The man lifted his head, and, with a yell of delight, Drew leaped to the wharf.

It was Tyke Grimshaw! Pale and haggard the old man looked, but his indomitable spirit was still in evidence and his eyes twinkled with the old whimsical smile.

"Hurrah!" yelled Drew.

The cry was echoed by Captain Hamilton, who had likewise leaped from the taffrail to the pier.

"Didn't expect to see me, eh?" queried Tyke, while the ambulance men stood by, grinning.

"No, I didn't," roared Captain Hamilton, gripping him by one hand while Drew held the other. "But I can't tell you how glad I am that you made up your mind to come."

"We might have known you'd get here if you had to walk on your hands," cried Drew jubilantly.

"Had to fight like the mischief to get them doctors to let me come," chortled Tyke, evidently delighted by the warmth of the greeting. "They told me I was jest plumb crazy to think of it. But after Allen, here, left me last night I got so lonesome an' restless there was no holding me. Seemed like I'd go wild if I'd had to stay in that sick-bay while you fellers were sniffing the sea air. So I jest reared up on my hind legs, as you might say, an' they had to let me come."

"And you got here just in the nick of time," said the captain. "Ten minutes more and we'd have been slipping down the river."

Carefully supporting him on either side, for he found the unaccustomed crutches awkward, Captain Hamilton and Drew helped him on board the vessel and seated him comfortably in a deck chair.

Tyke drew in great draughts of the salt-laden air and his eyes glistened as he scrutinized the lines and spars of the schooner, noting her beauties with the expert eye of the sailor.

"Great little craft," he said approvingly. "I wouldn't have missed sailing on her for the world. A cruise in a tidy schooner like this will do me more good than them blamed doctors could if they fiddled around me for a year."

"How is your leg feeling now?" asked Drew solicitously.

"Better already," grinned Tyke. "In less'n a week I'll be chucking these crutches overboard. See if I don't."

Suddenly Tyke fell silent. Drew turned swiftly and saw that the old man was staring under bent brows at the mate of the schooner.

"Who's that?" Tyke finally demanded.

"That's Ditty – my mate," said Captain Hamilton. "I told you he was no handsome dog, didn't I?"

"Ugh!" grunted Tyke, and said no more.

Before Drew could ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, a musical voice at his elbow said:

"Good morning, Mr. Drew."

He was on his feet in a flash, holding out his hand in eager greeting. "I was wondering when I was going to see you!" he exclaimed.

"You'll probably see too much of me before this voyage is over," Ruth said demurely. "I expect you men will be frightfully bored with one lone woman hovering around all the time."

Drew's eyes were eloquent with denial.

"Impossible!" he said emphatically. Then he became conscious that Tyke was looking on with some curiosity.