With this, Jerry went below, got some of his things together in a duffle-bag, and went over the ladder into the fishing-prau, with a farewell wave of the hand at the boys and his other shipmates. The Malays put out their long oars, shouted a farewell to which the crew responded with cheers, and the dozen boats swept back toward the river.

"Well, we've got a pretty good crew now!" laughed the captain looking around at the decks. Their duties being over for the time being, the engine-room crew had come on deck, fraternizing with their brother Kanakas, and everyone, from old Borden to Mart and Bob, was busy stowing away fresh fruit, of which the supply was bountiful.

The boys examined Bob's silver-inlaid kris, with its carven handle of bone, and it was indeed a trophy worth carrying home. At mess that evening Bob's father announced his desire to take Joe Swanson with him on his initial hunting-trip, at which the burly mate was no little astonished.

"Well," he said, with a slow grin, "I'm not much on shootin', Cap'n, but I'll be mortal glad to stretch my legs ashore. Who'll take charge o' the ship?"

"Well," smiled the captain, "I'll leave the boys in charge, with Jerry. The quartermaster is capable, and he's going to start diving operations up the river. I want to see what things are like in the jungle before I'll take the boys hunting, as it's apt to be pretty dangerous."

"I dunno, sir," and Swanson frowned, staring at his plate. "I've heard a good bit about Jerry, and I wouldn't leave him—"

"Oh, nonsense!" Captain Hollinger laughed out, and the boys remembered the mate's protest before the voyage began that Jerry was "unlucky." "I've heard about his piratical tendencies, but don't you worry, Mr. Swanson. He's all right."

The mate shrugged his shoulders heavily and said no more. That evening the boys proffered a request that they be set ashore on the island in the morning. Both were anxious to set foot on the sands, and to prowl about the place at their leisure, and as the island was clearly uninhabited, Captain Hollinger assented willingly. Mart decided to take the motion-picture machine along in order to try it out, and Bob later confided to him his intention to take along a rifle in case they saw anything to shoot at.

"Shucks, there's nothin' around here to shoot," returned Mart scornfully. "And 'specially on the island. Besides, your dad wouldn't stand for it."

"That's all right," grinned Bob. "I'll get one of those thirty-thirties out of the rack and slip her into the boat. Maybe we won't use it, and maybe we will. We might meet that Pirate Shark, you know!"

"Oh, shucks!" ejaculated Mart.

They breakfasted early the next morning, and as the captain wanted a message relayed to San Francisco, the boys sought the wireless house while Dailey and Borden and Yorke were getting a boat over the side. After some persistent efforts, Mart finally raised an answer, and after looking it up in his blue-bound book, found that it came from a Dutch steamer of the Nederland line, and promptly got rid of his messages, which would be relayed by more powerful instruments to Manila and Honolulu. During this labor, Bob slipped away, and after Mart had reported to Captain Hollinger and secured his motion-picture camera, he found his chum waiting in the boat, where Dailey and Yorke, Borden and Birch were at the oars. Waving farewell to the ship, they moved away; Bob nudged Mart and pointed to a tarpaulin under the stern.

"There she is," he said mysteriously.

"What?"

"That rifle," reported Bob, chuckling. "We're off, old scout! I wish we'd meet that Pirate Shark o' Jerry's. I guess a thirty-thirty bullet would make him sick!"

"Huh!" grunted Mart, his eyes sweeping across the sunlit waters. "No chance!"



CHAPTER IX

THE BLACK FIN

The boys had fully intended removing their shoes and going ashore in their bare feet, but as they started to do so, the men grinned and stopped them. Yorke, with his twisted mouth leering and his gray head streaming with perspiration, lay on his oar and gave them some advice.

"Young gem'men, don't go for to do them foolish things, not in these here seas! First place, that 'ere sand on the island will be hotter'n blazes. Then if ye go wadin' around ye'll get poisoned wi' coral, or ye'll step on little crabs ye can't see, but they'll get under your skin, like; or else ye'll find animiles what'll bore little round holes in your flesh, an' them kind o' things. It ain't safe, young gem'men."

At first the boys thought he was joking, but a glance at old Borden showed that Yorke had been in earnest.

"Don't ye do it," added that soft-voiced seaman, who was so much like Jerry in his ways. "Yorke's tellin' ye true, lads. Things ain't so nice as they looks on these islands, you can take your davy to that!"

At this juncture Daily and Birch also paused to rest. The boys had desisted from their object, and Birch spoke up, his one eye flaming queerly.

"Beggin' your pardon, young sirs, but be you a-goin' to hunt tigers wi' the cap'n?" At the question all four men looked aft at the boys.

"Sure," rejoined Bob happily.

"Not right away, though," added Mart, wondering at the looks and the question. "We're goin' to see the diving first. Later on we'll go ashore after a tiger."

"Give way, there," ordered Borden quietly, but as the four oars dipped Mart caught an odd glance exchanged among the men. He wondered idly what they were thinking of, but they were close on the island now and he was too eager to be ashore to waste any time in vain speculation.

At length the boat ran up on the clean white sand, all leaped out, and she was at once pulled up. Dailey volunteered to stay with her, and the other three men started off to wander on their own account, while the two boys, arranging to be back in an hour or so, started across to the seaward side. The brief ride in the hot sun had quite cured Bob of his romantic notions regarding the rifle, which he now left in the boat, for it was a heavy weight and he had lost his desire to shoot when Mart suggested that it would only alarm those aboard the yacht.

It was ebb tide, and as they gained the opposite side of the narrow island and came out upon the long reaches of white sand, the wild delight of the boys was unrestrained. They were in a new world. Even the trees were crimson, there was no lack of wonderful but ill-smelling flowers, and among the bushes and trees fluttered butterflies of gorgeous hues. But out on the sands they forgot all this.

They found shells by the score, such shells as they had never seen, of all colors and hues. Then, in a little bay of the shore, Mart stumbled on a starfish, deep red, with rich black bosses, and Bob splashed into a pool to extricate two small but very gaudy sponges.

Then there were smaller fragments of coral, ruby red and white, and oyster shells—some brick-red, others of mixed and more gorgeous hues—while more complex shells whose names the boys could not guess lay strewn about indiscriminately with fragments of streaming seaweed. Then Bob wandered ahead, and Mart saw him turn with a cautious gesture, motioning to him.

Mart stuffed the starfish into his pocket and caught up his all but forgotten camera. When he joined Bob at one side of the little bay and looked through the bushes at the shore beyond, he understood. For there was a long stretch of mingled coral and sand exposed by the low tide, and perhaps fifty yards distant were two birds—curlews—running toward the boys with nervous, jerky motions. They were furtively picking up crabs, and Mart quickly set up his camera and focused it. But the instant he began to turn the crank, the two birds ceased their antics. With an inquiring pipe, they looked toward the slight click; then one of them desperately snatched up a crab and both flew off together.

"By golly!" exclaimed Mart. "I got 'em anyhow! Let's go see the crabs!"

They found them—big gray fellows that scuttled away or disappeared in the sand as the boys approached. Try as they would they could not catch one, and being unable to dig, they finally gave up, tired and winded.

"Say, do you like raw oysters?" exclaimed Mart, while they were resting in the hot sand.

"You bet!" returned Bob. "Why?"

"Well, look out there where that coral shows."

Perhaps twenty feet from the edge of the water protruded the low ragged edges of a coral reef, and Bob gained his feet instantly. The water inside the reef was only a few inches deep, and even from where they stood they could make out splotches against the coral that told of oysters.

Without a word Bob led the way, Mart following hastily. Getting their shoes wet mattered little, for they would dry again in five minutes of walking in the blistering sand, and when they finally stood on the coral reef they soon had torn half a dozen good-sized oysters from their perch and waded in to shore again.

"They look good," said Mart, gazing doubtfully at the tightly-closed gray-green shells. "How you goin' to open 'em?"

"With a knife," grinned Bob, pulling out his heavy pocket-knife.

He went to work, and remained at work for five minutes. At the end of that time he gazed disgustedly at his hacked knife blade and gave up in despair. Mart suggested warming the oysters over a fire.

"Good idea, Mart!" cried Bob, springing up. "We'll eat a couple, then take a mess back to dad, eh?"

They soon had a small fire of dry bush alight, and under the influence of its heat they got two or three of the oysters open. Each of the boys swallowed one—then they looked at each other blankly.

"Didn't taste right to me," declared Mart.

"Me neither. I never ate any like that in 'Frisco, by juniper!"

They unanimously decided that they would not eat any more, and before they had stamped out their fire Bob found that he wanted very much to inspect a scarlet-leaved tree a short distance back in the bush. Mart saw another tree that he wanted to look at, and after fifteen minutes had passed, two very pale and disgusted boys crawled out to the warm beach again and lay there recuperating.

"By golly, I don't want any more of those oysters," said Mart, gaining his feet after a little. Picking up the offending molluscs, he hurled them out again into the sea, and Bob grinned faintly.

"No," he agreed, "I guess Ah Sing's cooking'll do me for quite a spell. By juniper, that oyster must have gone down wrong!"

"So did mine," replied Mart, "but it come up again—right. I move we hit for the boat. I've had enough o' this, by golly! It's as Borden said; things ain't what they seem, not by a long shot!"

With that, they hit across the island for the lagoon side once more. They passed several trees which bore most attractive-looking fruits, and berry-laden bushes, but beyond pausing once or twice to consume a few feet of his reel at opportune points, Mart paid no attention. He and Bob had learned a lesson and learned it well.

By the time they emerged on the inner shore of the island, however, they were feeling perfectly recovered once more. Here the shore was flat and level, and as they looked about for the boat, it appeared a few hundred yards to their left. Dailey was lying asleep in its shadow, and out in the lagoon itself the Seamew was swinging lazily at her cable. There was no sign of any prau bringing back Jerry Smith, and the other three men who had landed were not in sight.

"Where are the men gone?" asked Bob, as Dailey sat up at their approach. The leathery-faced seaman waved a hand toward the upper end of the island.

"They went off that way, sir. Ain't showed up yet."

"Well, let's row up and meet 'em," suggested Mart. Bob agreed at once, and all three piled into the boat as they shoved it out.

Mart and Dailey took an oar apiece, Bob reclining in the stern, and they slowly rowed up toward the far end of the island, where was a wide channel connecting the lagoon with the open sea beyond.

As they rowed, the two boys were lost in wonder at sight of the glories below them, for here the water was clear as crystal, though Dailey declared it to be a couple of fathoms deep or more. Sponges, marine fans, fish, coral, and all the under-water life lay open to them, in colors more gorgeous and magnificent than either boy had ever dreamed of. Bob declared it far ahead of the Santa Catalina sea-gardens, and Mart could hardly row for his wondering admiration; but he was finally recalled to himself by a quick exclamation from Bob.

"Hold up there, both o' you! What's that ahead?"

Mart and Dailey glanced around, and an echoing cry broke from the seaman. Fifty yards ahead of them and slowly cutting the water in their direction, was a black triangle that seemed part of some machine, so evenly and steadily did it move along. But the size of it! Mart guessed instantly that it was the dorsal fin of a shark, but he had seen no fin of such size before.

"It's the Pirate Shark, Holly!" he cried suddenly, and plunged down for the rifle. Bob stooped for it at the same instant, but Mart was too quick for him. He rose again to find Dailey looking at them, aghast.

"Where might you lads 'a' heard o' the Pirate Shark?" queried the seaman hoarsely. Mart had no time to waste on him.

"None of your business," he returned sharply. "Keep steady there—"

"You'll waste the bullet, Mart," and Bob stopped him. "It'll simply glance off the water at this angle. Hold on till we get closer!"

"Don't you do it, sir," implored Dailey, his leathery face suddenly pale. "It's the Pirate Shark, all right—don't you fire on him, sir! My word on it, Mr. Judson, it'll be a bad day for us all—"

"Oh, cut out that superstitious talk, Dailey," broke in Mart impatiently. "He's a shark, and a big one; pirate or not, if I can't get to him I'll put a bullet through that big fin of his."

"That's the idea!" exclaimed Bob. "But quit talking or we'll scare him off. Hit the fin, Mart—don't waste time tryin' to make the bullet penetrate the water unless we get up close alongside."

Mart, quivering with excitement, got a bead on that tremendous black fin which was now turning as if to proceed across their bows. It would be futile to attempt shooting the shark at such a distance, for as Bob said the bullet would simply glance from the surface of the water.

Suddenly Mart perceived that the fin was turning away from them. Instantly he sighted for its center, made sure of his bead, and fired. He saw the fin flutter wildly, then there was a great swirl of waters, and as the heavy detonation rang over the lagoon the black fin vanished amid the foam.

"Hit!" yelled Bob. "There are the men, Mart!"

Indeed, the figures of the three seaman were visible, running down the sand, and Mart waved a hand at the yacht as he sat down, for he knew that Swanson and the captain would be watching. But the greatest thought in his mind was that black fin. The Pirate Shark was a reality! They had seen its "black flag" and he had sent a bullet through it!

None of the three spoke as they pulled the heavy boat in to the beach where the men waited. As they approached, the three seamen splashed out and piled aboard, Mart taking his place again in the stern. The first question, naturally, was for the cause of the firing.

"We saw the Pirate Shark," answered Dailey. "We put a bullet through its fin."

"Huh?" one incredulous cry broke from the other three. "Who fired it?"

"Mr. Judson done it."

Three pairs of eyes swept to Mart, who laughed at the amazement of the men. "Well, why not?" he wanted to know.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Birch. "You fired on the Pirate Shark, lad? Then I'm main sorry for you, that I am!"

"Why so, Birch?" queried Bob, leaning forward and grinning.

"Because it's bad luck, young gem'man," replied Yorke soberly enough, for all his twisted mouth. "It's mortal bad luck! If you'd put a bullet in that there Pirate Shark, you'd 'a' broke old Jerry's heart, you would—"

"Oh, shut up, Yorke!" snapped Birch. "Give way, everybody! There's a boat!"

The boys turned and saw one of the native praus coming from the river toward the yacht. The superstition of the seamen affected them not at all, and Mart felt that all bans were now off, and they could tell Captain Hollinger about the Pirate Shark whenever they chose. Jerry was no doubt aboard the native boat now approaching—and Mart did not feel half so anxious to shoot tigers as he did to get after the Pirate Shark. For the Pirate Shark really existed, beyond any doubt!



CHAPTER X

OFF FOR TIGERS

"Yes, sir, Pirate Shark is what they call him, Cap'n. Thirty-footer."

"What!" Captain Hollinger stared in amazement, then laughed. "Thirty-footer? You're tangled up, Jerry. Well, he can wait until I get back."

Jerry had arrived at the yacht almost as soon as the boys reached her, and in the course of the explanations about their shooting, Mart and Bob surprised Jerry into ejaculating the title of the Pirate Shark, which called for further explanations. Thus, without having broken their promise, the boys apprised the captain of something of the story of the Pirate Shark, since Jerry reluctantly explained the name. Captain Hollinger gave the matter little attention, but not so the mate.

"Look here, Cap'n," cried Swanson, stepping out and facing Jerry aggressively. "I warned you against this here Shark Smith afore we started, didn't I? Now, I tell you he ain't here for any good, him and the rest o' his gang! Shark Smith, they call him—don't you growl at me, you white-haired old hypocrite!—'cause he's been after that 'ere shark for ten year an' more. That's what he brung you here for, Cap'n—just so's he could get at that Pirate Shark!"

Swanson flung out this accusation boldly enough, and Jerry's blue eyes blazed up at him suddenly; but the look was fleeting, and the next instant the quartermaster flung back his white hair and gazed with mild reproach on the mate.

"Deary me!" Jerry said softly, then smiled. "Why, Cap'n, Mr. Swanson's quite right, he is. I knowed that there Pirate Shark was here, an' I wanted to kill him myself, so to speak. But I've played square, Cap'n. When you gets back from your hunt, I'll have gold to show you. Can you ask more'n that, sir?"

"Not a bit, Jerry," smiled Captain Hollinger. "Come, Mr. Swanson, no more of this suspicion, if you please. Jerry will have to rank as second officer, and take the port watch for the rest of the cruise, so I want no ill feeling among my officers. Now, what about the tigers, Jerry?"

Jerry reported that all was ready, and that the beaters were already arranged for. There were tigers a day's march away, it seemed, and the chiefs were delighted that Captain Hollinger was so willing and ready to rid them of their persecutors. The sooner the hunters started, the better pleased would the natives be.

Accordingly, the captain decided that he would go ashore with Swanson that same afternoon and get acquainted, as Jerry reported that two or three of the natives could speak a little English, and that all were anxious to put themselves at his disposal. Then for the first time Jerry found that the boys were not going ashore also, and the knowledge seemed to stagger him.

"Why—why," he exclaimed blankly, "I thought as how you were going tiger hunting too, lads. I've been an' made all arrangements wi' them chiefs—"

"No, they'll have to stay here," returned the captain firmly. "I'll not take them into that jungle till I've had a look at it, Jerry. That's final. Hold that prau down there and we'll get our stuff together and go ashore in her."

Jerry, looking decidedly blank, obeyed. Mart wondered why he was so anxious to have them go ashore, and conferred with Bob on the subject, but it seemed that Jerry was only in haste to get at his Pirate Shark, and the two boys were rather amused at the situation, together with Swanson's dislike of Jerry.

To them it seemed that the old quartermaster had wanted to get rid of everyone who would interfere with his own hunting operations, and that their shot at the shark that morning had irritated him. Mart looked on it as a huge joke by this time, and Bob was evidently inclined to the same way of thinking. Jerry was evidently quite confident, however, that there was gold in the river, as his promise to the captain showed; indeed, the boys never doubted that he was acting in good faith, more especially as Jerry had now informed the captain that he intended killing the Pirate Shark.

The preparations for the trip ashore were made hurriedly, while the prau waited at the ladder and the natives traded more fruit and fish, with some fresh meat. Captain Hollinger and Swanson dressed in khaki, with sun helmets and leggings, and at the last moment one of the Scotch engineers volunteered to accompany them. So he was given an outfit also, and the three men furnished themselves with the small-bore Austrian army rifles, whose cordite bullets possessed terrific power.

Jerry said that all arrangements were made for their welfare in the village, and that tents were unnecessary as the natives could build thatch huts in half an hour while on the trip, so the impedimenta of the party was light. Canteens and cartridge belts were donned, medicine cases, mosquito nets, binoculars and blankets stowed away, and the three men shook hands with the two boys. Jerry said that the natives were even then making ready a huge barbecue in the village, which was half a mile up-river, so without pausing for noon mess the hunters departed.

They took both trading goods and money with them, in order to make payments to the natives, and when they stepped down into the prau and the Malays shoved off, the boys led the crew in three hearty cheers. Out flashed the long Malay sweeps, and with final shouts ringing over the water, the prau swiftly moved off toward the river mouth. Mart and Bob watched the three stalwart khaki-clad figures standing erect amid the brown men, and followed the prau with their glasses until it was lost around the first projection of the river bank Bob little dreamed what would transpire before he was to see his father's face again!

The officers' mess was sadly depleted that noon, only Jerry, the boys, and the Scotch engineer remaining. By this time the old quartermaster had openly announced his intention of getting after the Pirate Shark, so the boys had no hesitation in broaching the subject and asking his plans.

"Well," returned Jerry, gazing mildly at the engineer, "first off, we'll lay the yacht over that there wreck I was tellin' you lads about—you mind that wreck, lads, eight fathom down? Rock bottom it is, coral rock, down there among the fish. When we lay over her, all shipshape an' Bristol fashion, then we'll look about for that there Pirate Shark. He's down there, lads—down there among the fish, lads, eight fathom down!"

"I'll bet he ain't," interposed Mart. "Prob'ly Bob's bullet through his fin sent him out of here into the deep water. It would me!"

"Ah, but you ain't no Pirate Shark, lad!" smiled Jerry, shaking his head. "He's a cute un, he is." With that Jerry turned to the Scotch engineer, who was no little astonished at the program, of which he had known nothing. "Now, sir, I'll thank you to get the fires up a bit, as we'll need steam to move. Best keep 'em banked, as we may finish off that there shark to-morrow and run up river after gold."

"How long will dad be ashore?" asked Bob, while the dazed engineer departed to look after his fires.

Jerry chuckled. "Oh, several days, lads, several days! Now, we'll break out that dynamite an' then we'll lay her over the wreck—eight fathoms down, and old Jerry the only man as knows. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales! You come to the bridge and watch old Jerry lay us over that there wreck!"

This invitation the boys promptly accepted. The afternoon was hot, but Jerry seemed like a new man as he assumed command of the yacht, taking charge of the steam steering gear himself. As they could not get under way for some time, he set Birch to work with a few Kanakas breaking out the dynamite in the forward hold. Jerry was needed to identify the case in question, however, and soon went down to the deck for that purpose.

Now happened an incident which in some measure served to open the eyes of both boys. Among the stores broken out from the hold was a barrel of beef which had gone bad. After Jerry had identified the case containing the dynamite, he ordered the Kanakas to fling the bad beef overboard, and started back to the bridge. The Kanakas had not fully understood the order, and thinking that the case of dynamite was indicated, they cheerfully picked it up and heaved it over the rail.

Mart let out one wild yell, which was echoed by Yorke and Dailey, but nothing happened; the dynamite simply went to the bottom, the force of the shock not being sufficient to explode it. When Jerry comprehended what had happened, however, he was changed instantly from a mild, gentle-appearing old man into a raging maniac. He ran forward, his face terrible to see, and leaping into the crowd of Kanakas began striking right and left in mad fury.

The white-faced boys saw Yorke catch hold of him, but Jerry sent the twisted-mouthed man reeling with a blow; not until Dailey and Birch flung themselves on him was he quieted. Then he once more became himself, but he had been struck a hard blow; he looked ten years older, as Mart commented below his breath.

"No wonder," said Bob commiseratingly. "Poor old Jerry—he'd been counting on that dynamite to blow up the Pirate Shark, Mart. Just the same, I guess my bullet sent Mr. Shark a-kiting out to the open sea."

Jerry climbed back to the bridge, vouchsafing no comment, but still trembling and muttering to himself. Calling down the tube, he found that the engineer had enough steam up to give the Seamew steerage way, and without further delay he ordered the anchor tripped and rang for half speed ahead.

Slowly the yacht gathered way and swung about, pointing up past the island toward the channel beyond. Beyond this, again, the lagoon continued for a quarter-mile farther, in a rounded bay where little rock-points showed their jagged teeth. As they advanced, the water became deeper, shoaled again, then grew deeper beyond the channel; at last Jerry rang for reversed engines, the cable roared out, and the engines ceased.

"Now, lads," he said, "we're over that there wreck. Let's have a look."

They followed him eagerly enough to the deck, where already the crew were looking over the bulwarks. The water was wonderfully clear, but as it was forty feet deep here, they could make out nothing of the bottom. Just under their ladder and gangway, however, the quartermaster pointed out a deeper shadow of green, which he declared showed the position of the wreck.

"We'll send down a Kanaka in the morning," he said. "And if that there ain't the old wreck, lads, then Jerry Smith is a Dutchman!"

"But what about the shark?" objected Bob stoutly. "You aren't going to send down any men there, Jerry, with that shark hanging around. Not if I know it!"

"Well, them Kanakas lost my dynamite, didn't they?" snarled Jerry suddenly, his face sweeping into quick anger.

"That's no matter," rejoined Mart. "You needn't think we'll stand for any men going down—"

"Look ye here, lads," and Jerry faced them solemnly. "Them Kanakas ain't like us white men, d'ye see? First, they ain't afraid o' sharks. They take knives down an' kill sharks for fun, like your father kills tigers. Then they swim like fish themselves, lads. If the sea hadn't spoiled that there dynamite, they'd 'a' brought it up as quick as it went down."

"Maybe you're right," answered Bob, "but there's something about this whole business that I don't like, Jerry. That's flat. You deceived dad by not telling him about this Pirate Shark till we'd got here, and you haven't told him about the wreck yet. All I can say is, you'd better play square, Jerry. When it comes to sending down any o' those Kanakas to investigate your private troubles, and risking their lives, I'm not going to stand for it."

Jerry smiled softly, and gazed out at the sparkling waters of the lagoon.

"Lads, I'm in command o' this here ship," he said quietly. "You've got nothin' to say aboard her, by rule o' the sea. But old Jerry ain't that kind, lads—no, he likes ye both too much for that. Look here, Master Bob, we'll not send down any men but them as volunteers to go, eh? If they want to go, all right; if they don't, why, all right too! Ain't that fair, now? Ain't it?"

Bob glanced at Mart, who made answer.

"Yes, that's fair enough, Jerry. I'll tell the Kanakas myself about that Pirate Shark, and if they choose to go down after that, it's their affair. I don't think he's around here, myself; but in case that bullet didn't send him out to sea with a hole in his fin, and if he really is the Pirate Shark, we'll have to wait till the captain gets back, unless the men are perfectly willing to take the risk. You can order Dailey or Yorke to go down if you like."

At this last suggestion Jerry merely darted them a sharp look, and chuckled.

"All right, lads, all right! We'll see in the mornin', lads. Eight fathom down she is, and fish tell no tales."

That night the boys discussed the situation with growing belief that Jerry was not quite so silly as he appeared. The sight of that immense black fin had established the fact that there was at least an enormous shark here; whether the wreck was also a fact or not was quite another thing.

There might be a wreck there, indeed, and there was no good reason to doubt it. Jerry's tale about its being an ancient galleon, however, was much too improbable to be accepted. However, the diving gear was overhauled that evening, and the boys looked forward eagerly to what was to happen next day.

"I s'pose dad's watching a native dance or something about now," remarked Bob as the boys made ready to turn in. "Well, we'll be after tigers ourselves in a few days, Mart."

"Mebbe," rejoined Mart. "Wish, we hadn't eaten those oysters this morning! I haven't felt right since. Well, so long, Holly! See you to-morrow."

And if Mart felt any premonitions, he ascribed them to the oyster.



CHAPTER XI

THE STORM BREAKS

"Hey, there! Wake up, Holly!"

Mart pounded on his chum's door again, as a sleepy answer came from within. The night mists had been gone for an hour, and the sun was flooding the lagoon with light and warmth, but Mart was more excited than the early hour warranted.

"Hurry up there, Holly!" he urged, pounding again. "Get a move on! Something's happened!"

"What?" sounded the question.

"Never mind till you see it. Get your duds on and get out here."

After thirty seconds more the half-dressed figure of Bob appeared at the door. Mart seized him by the arm and jerked him out. Bob stared in wonder, for Mart's strong, determined face was filled with grief and anger.

"What's struck you, Mart?"

"Come along and see."

With which enigmatic response Mart led the way forward and up to the bridge. Two of the Kanakas were on watch, but Mart passed direct to the wireless house, with the wondering Bob close behind.

"Now, look at that," exclaimed Mart, standing by the table and waving his hand toward the wireless outfit. "Look at it real close, Holly."

Bob advanced, puzzled. The silence cabinet in which was enclosed the transmitting apparatus, had been forced open, and even the unmechanical Bob could see at a glance that something had been disarranged, or worse.

"Look at her!" exclaimed Mart bitterly. "Wires out and gone, and everything busted that would bust—why, they must have gone through her with an axe! Holly, this wireless was busted a-purpose, and someone aboard the Seamew did it!"

"Is she badly smashed?" queried Bob, who was startled by the news without quite comprehending what it meant.

"I haven't had a chance to look yet. But say, Holly! Don't you see what it means? There's someone aboard here who wants to cut us off from connection with everything—and he didn't know much about wireless, either. The aerials ain't touched. Let's see—"

Mart began to investigate feverishly, but Bob stood transfixed as he finally realized what this destruction portended. Then, as he gazed down at the kneeling figure of his chum, his face flooded with anger and he turned and went out to the forward end of the bridge. The Kanakas were lolling below in the sun, and Bob woke them sharply.

"Call all hands and send Mr. Smith here."

At the unwonted note of authority in his voice, the Kanakas jumped. Five minutes later the whole crew poured up, thronging the foredeck, while old Jerry came up to the bridge in mild astonishment.

"Come back here," ordered Bob briefly, in reply to his queries, and led the old quartermaster hack to the wireless house.

"Now, Jerry," he said, "last night someone broke in there and went through the wireless outfit with an axe. How about it, Mart! Much damaged?"

"Clean smashed up, Holly," groaned Mart from his position beside the cabinet, where he was investigating the helix. "Everything's busted. She's ruined."

"Get to work, Jerry," commanded Bob curtly. "You're responsible. Now find out who did it—"

"How do you know it was done last night, lads?" inquired Jerry softly. "When was you up here last, if I may ask?"

Bob glanced at Mart, who was rising. They found that neither of them had been up since early the previous morning when Mart had sent a message through the Nederland boat. At this Jerry suggested that one of the Malays had possibly stolen up while their prau was waiting alongside for the captain, the day before, and had stolen what he could find. The Malays had a fondness for wire, he went on to say.

"Mebbe," said Mart suspiciously. "You get busy and investigate here first. I don't take much stock in your suggestions."

With an injured air, Jerry retraced his steps and put the crew through a stiff examination, but nothing was brought to light. It finally proved that the Malay explanation was the most plausible one, simply for lack of other evidence, and although Bob and Mart were both furious, they could do nothing. Once they were alone in the cabin, however, Mart winked mysteriously at his chum.

"Say, Holly, I was putting up a bluff on you for Jerry's benefit. That wireless ain't wrecked, not by a jugfull! Whoever did it was too plumb ignorant to do the job right. I can fix her up, but it'll take time. Now, you lay low and let on like she's busted for good. If one o' the men did it, and finds it ain't busted, he's liable to go after our aerials, which would sure dish things for us, see?"

Bob nodded thoughtfully.

"Good for you, Mart. Well, you wait an' see what happens when dad gets back, that's all I have to say."

He had no chance to say more, indeed, for a trampling of feet on the deck, and the sound of voices, apprised them that the diving was about to commence. They at once set aside all other thoughts, agreed to forget the wireless for the time being, and hurried on deck to watch operations. At Bob's suggestion Mart brought along a couple of the thirty-thirty rifles, in case they should see any further signs of the Pirate Shark.

They had already made sure that the Kanakas knew the danger of diving here in the lagoon, but one and all the brown-skinned men had laughed at the very name of shark, patting their sheath knives and assuring the boys that they were used to killing sharks as a form of exercise. Size made no difference, it appeared, so the boys made no more objections.

Four of the Kanakas had stripped and stood on the gangway landing, holding to lines and weights, while the rest of the crew clustered about the rail and Jerry gave them instructions as to depth and bottom and what to look for. Then the men grinned, put their knives between their teeth, and slipped off into the water.

After a minute they reappeared, merely took breath, and vanished again. This time they were down well over a minute, then shot up to the surface together and piled on to the landing, their brown bodies glistening in the sun. The boys went down the ladder and joined Jerry in getting the reports of the divers.

These all agreed that the yacht lay directly over an old wreck, which was so overgrown that it seemed little more than a huge rock. One of the men had brought up a sliver of wood in proof of the story, however, and at sight of it Jerry nodded, satisfied.

"There she is, lads—eight fathoms down! Mystery o' the sea, lads—mystery o' the sea, and us up above here in the sun!"

The boys kept a sharp lookout for the shark, but he was not to be seen, and the Kanakas declared there was nothing alarming to be seen underneath the surface. Now it was that Jerry had Dailey and Birch bring down the diving outfits to the landing, and he briefly ordered the Kanakas to don them and go down.

To the surprise of all, the Kanakas refused. They looked with some suspicion on the heavy boots and copper helmet, declaring that they felt safer without all these things and were perfectly willing to go down as often as was wished.

At this Jerry carefully explained that such work would not do, that he wanted the wreck explored, and that it was necessary for a man to be down for a long period to do this successfully. The Kanakas still balked, however, and when Jerry grew furious and ordered one of them flatly to get into the diving dress, Bob interposed.

"None o' that, Jerry. The men are right. If you want someone to go down, pick out one of your own men—Birch or Dailey there."

The Scotch engineer, standing up above, burst out laughing. Birch promptly denied all interest in the wreck.

"Not me, sir! I ain't no diver, nor shark fighter neither. If anyone's to go down, let the quartermaster go down, I says!"

"That's right," grinned Mart maliciously. "You climb into one of the suits, Jerry! Mebbe your old friend the Pirate Shark is waiting for you to show up."

Jerry chuckled and wagged his white head in solemn refusal, while those above made fun of him unrestrainedly. Finally Jerry scratched his head and gazed up at the men lining the rail.

"Dailey," he ordered, "see to gettin' out two o' the boats. Yorke, you an' Birch an' Borden come down to the after cabin. I'll learn ye who's master aboard here!"

He chuckled again, and beckoned to the boys to follow, which they did. Dailey ran to the bridge deck with a squad of Kanakas and as Mart went below he heard the davits creaking, and saw one of the boats descending to the water.

Jerry vouchsafed no explanation of his ordered consultation until the three men in question had come down to the cabin where he and the boys waited. Mart detected something strange in the old man's manner, and the instant the men came down he saw an insolent expression on Birch's face that he did not understand. He was soon to understand it, however, with a good many other things.

"Now, comrades, what had best be done?" asked Jerry. "These here lads don't want us to make the Kanakas go down, and you don't want to go down neither. Our dynamite's gone, so I asks you again, what's to be done?"

Yorke leered with his twisted mouth.

"Take a rope's end to the Kanakas, Shark. Ain't you master aboard here?"

"Aye, that I am, Yorke, but owners is owners."

Jerry chuckled again, which disarmed Bob's anger. Mart was watching the four men anxiously. Their attitude puzzled him, for the seamen were undoubtedly insolent, but Jerry seemed to pay no attention; and the old quartermaster was usually a stickler for sea etiquette.

"Are you sure the Pirate Shark's down there, Jerry?" asked Bob suddenly. "Don't you think he's gone out to sea—"

"No, no, lad, he lives down there—eight fathom down, in the wreck, with the fish all around and us up above."

"He didn't go after the Kanakas," persisted Bob skeptically.

"You're right, lad, he didn't—'cause why, he knowed better, he did! He's waitin' till a diver goes down, lads—a real diver wi' the shoes an' helmet, as can't swim about like the Kanakas. I'll go down myself."

"What!"

The cry of surprise broke from men and boys alike, but Jerry nodded, his jaw set and his old face showing a sudden angry determination.

"Yes. I'll go down, wi' some kind o' weapon, and I'll—"

"Take that kris of mine!" shouted Bob eagerly.

"Stow your jaw!" The one-eyed Birch turned on them roughly and threateningly, to Mart's amazement. "Jerry, stop this fooling. What you goin' to do with these kids, eh?"

"Let them go down," broke in Borden, a malicious expression on his wrinkled face. "Let 'em go down, Jerry, to the wreck."

"Shut up!" Jerry straightened up. So swiftly had this dialogue passed that the two boys had hardly realized its import, when the old quartermaster shook his fist at Birch. "Shut up, I say! Them boys ain't a-goin' to be hurt, understand? Nor they ain't goin' to hurt us neither; I'll see to that. Borden, you and Yorke go up and lay that engineer in irons in the forehold. Birch, get hold o' Dailey and take a gun to them Kanakas till they agree to go down. This here is business, and I'm boss. So step lively."

The men obeyed quickly, for Jerry's gentle face was transformed into furious energy. The two boys, however, leaped forward with an angry cry as the meaning of his orders broke on them.

"See here," exclaimed Mart, taking the old man by the shoulder and whirling him around to face them. "What's this mean anyhow?"

"You're crazy with the heat, Jerry," added Bob angrily. "This isn't any pirate—"

Jerry, with unexpected strength, put a hand on each of their chests and flung them back with seeming ease. When they recovered, his blue eyes were blazing and a revolver showed in his hand.

"Now, lads," he said in his soft, penetrating voice, "I like you, I do, and I'm takin' care o' you. You heard what old Borden said, eh? 'Let 'em go down to the wreck,' he said, lads, but not me. No, old Jerry likes you, an' you ain't a-goin' to be hurt."

"Why—why, blame it all, what do you mean?" gasped Mart.

"He's puttin' up a joke on us, Mart," grinned Bob. Jerry chuckled.

"Joke, eh? Look ye here, lads. Up back at the village yonder, the cap'n and Joe Swanson is took care of in a hut. They're safe enough, but they're took care of. That's why I went ashore first, to see my friends. This here yacht belongs to me, lads, until we get up the treasure out o' the wreck. Then me and the rest, we'll be off all shipshape and Bristol fashion, we will, and no one won't be hurt. Understand that, lads?"

Mart stared. But there was no denying the earnestness of the old man. Then over both boys flashed the whole thing—the three old men plotting at Waikiki, the different snatches of talk they had heard, everything that pointed to the same end. Jerry and his comrades had seized the Seamew.

"You mean you're a gang of pirates?" asked Bob, paralyzed with astonishment.

"That's it, lads," chuckled Jerry calmly. "You ain't to be hurt so long's you keep quiet, lads. Pirates it is—the fish down below and us up here above, lads. But when we've got the treasure out o' the wreck, we'll set the cap'n free and leave you wi' the ship. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales!"

And with that Jerry turned and ascended the companion, revolver in hand.



CHAPTER XII

THE ELEPHANT GUN

The boys sank into chairs, stunned. Their wildest dreams had fallen short of this terrible reality, and when it finally faced them they were staggered by it. Captain Hollinger and Swanson prisoners ashore; the yacht in the hands of pirates!

"Mart, it—it's awful!" blurted out Bob, white-faced. "Jerry must have meant to do this all along! What if dad—"

"Buck up, Holly," said Mart cheeringly, though he felt a terrible dismay within him. "Your dad ain't in any danger. Jerry went ashore to arrange with the natives to hold him, or to keep him out after tigers. He's all right, and Swanson's with him."

"Looks like Swanson wouldn't join 'em," replied Bob dully. "Maybe they'll kill 'em both, Mart."

"Nonsense!" Mart forced himself to brace up, in order to overcome his friend's hopeless despair. "Jerry's fixed this whole thing so's to kill nobody, Bob. That's easy to see. All he's after is the treasure that he thinks is down there in the wreck. When he gets that, he and the rest will light out with it, that's all. They're not the old kind of pirates. They're bad enough, but they've got too much sense to murder anyone."

Under this sensible view of the situation Bob began to take a more cheerful outlook, for he was more worried about his father than himself. The broken wireless was now explained, and although Mart thought that he could repair it, that would be out of the question at present. They agreed that their best plan would be to accept things quietly, but that Mart should get the wireless in shape at the first opportunity. He knew their position, and if he could send out one call for help it would undoubtedly be answered, as there were plenty of ships in these waters.

There was a tramping of feet on the deck, with loud shouts, and the boys awoke from their lethargy of despair. It suddenly occurred to Bob that they might arm the Kanakas and retake the ship, but upon searching for Captain Hollinger's rifles, they found all vanished. Beyond a doubt, Jerry and his men had confiscated the weapons and with them could easily hold the Kanakas in check.

The only weapon remaining was an old elephant gun which Mart found in a locker. It was a brute of a rifle, more like a cannon in appearance, and there was no ammunition for it; in fact, Bob explained that his father only kept it as a curiosity, and it was quite useless. Mart laid it down, giving up thoughts of resistance.

"Let's see if they'll let us up on deck, Holly."

"Sure. Jerry ain't afraid of us, Mart. He knows we're helpless."

The discouraged Bob led the way up the companion. They reached the deck with no opposition, and found Jerry and his mates in complete possession. Up forward, the Kanakas were huddled in an angry but helpless mass under the rifles of Dailey and Birch, while Borden and Yorke were just carrying the body of the Scotch engineer into the forecastle. There was blood on the man's brow and he was heavily ironed, which proved that he had not gone down without resistance.

The boys stood where they were, watching. Jerry had led one of the Kanakas to the gangway and was endeavoring to force him to don the diving outfit. But, although the old quartermaster's face was terrible in its rage, with his white hair flying free and his blue eyes flashing fire, the Kanaka stolidly refused, even when Jerry placed his pistol against the brown chest of the man.

For a moment the boys thought Jerry would murder him, but Birch intervened with the suggestion that they send down four of the Kanakas again to see how the wreck lay. To this Jerry assented, as did the Kanakas themselves, and Dailey sang out that two praus were coming out of the river toward them.

Jerry at once put Birch in charge of the gangway landing and the four men who were diving, and without paying any heed to the boys, assembled his mates for a brief conference, at the ladder.

"No use tryin' to force the Kanakas," declared Yorke. "I know 'em, Shark Smith, and so do you. They'll never put on that divin' dress, not if we flogged 'em."

"Yorke's right," spoke up Borden. "Send 'em ashore, Jerry. Send 'em ashore in the praus, and the engineer with 'em."

"Yes," added Dailey with an oath, and a black look toward the boys. "And put them two kids ashore, too, Jerry."

"What are you afraid of, mates?" Jerry chuckled and tipped Mart a wink. "Them lads stay here, mates—hostages, they are. They can't do us no hurt, and the cap'n won't neither while we hold his son. See? But we'll send them Kanakas ashore, mates. I'll arrange wi' the Malays to hold the crowd safe for a couple o' weeks, then we'll be off an' gone to Saigon in the boats, wi' the treasure."

Mart glanced at Bob, and the boys exchanged a sickly grin. The reason for old Jerry's clemency now became evident. With Bob in his hands, he well knew that he was safe from any effort on the part of Captain Hollinger to retake the vessel, even should the captain and Swanson escape.

Upon this the mutineers agreed, and save for the four Kanakas who were now engaged in diving, the others were summoned aft to the landing and bound securely, one by one. The boys advanced to the rail, and were watching for the reappearance of the four brown bodies in the water, when Jerry gave a yell and leaped down to the landing in a perfect frenzy, shaking his fist and cursing, apparently at nothing.

"Good heavens, Bob!" gasped Mart. "Look at the water!"

Gazing down, the boys felt suddenly sick. For up through the water was rising a red stain, and even as they looked, they saw the figures of three men come shooting up in wild fear. The brown bodies leaped for the landing and dragged themselves up—and as they did so the two boys distinctly saw a great gray shape, so huge that it appeared monstrous, sweep past underneath the ship.

"By juniper!" exclaimed Bob weakly. "Did you see that, Mart!"

Mart nodded and turned away, unable to speak. He knew only too well that one of the Kanakas had been caught by the shark, and the giant size of the terrible fish was too plainly attested by the panic of the other Kanakas, who were shivering and gray with fright. That red stain and the giant shadow in the water were destined to remain in the boys' dream for many a day.

The chattering natives were somewhat relieved from their panic when the two praus shot alongside the gangway and Jerry held animated converse with his friend the headman of the village. Their words were unintelligible, but from Jerry's satisfied air the boys made out that his plans must have gone well, and that the captain and mate were by this time prisoners, or safely hunting tiger somewhere in the jungle.

More fruit was brought aboard, and Jerry presented the headman with one of Captain Hollinger's cherished rifles, to Bob's wrath. After this, the bound Kanakas were taken aboard the two praus, the still unconscious but not badly hurt engineer was carried down, to join his chief on shore with the captain and mate, and the praus shoved off.

Thus there were left on board the yacht only the boys, Jerry and his four mates, and Ah Sing, the Chinese steward. Ah Sing had gained a glimpse of the proceedings and had promptly barricaded himself in his quarters, where he took to burning joss sticks in wild panic. As he would make no answer either to Jerry or the boys, Mart and Bob set to work getting something to eat, for it was getting well on toward noon, and the occupation would at least keep their minds busy.

Although some of the men flung them occasional black looks, the death of the Kanaka and that fleeting vision of the giant shark had sobered everyone tremendously. Not until the men had gathered in the mess-saloon—for they were making free with the officers' quarters, though they had touched nothing except the rifles and revolvers—and had stowed away some of the tinned provisions and hot coffee that the boys provided, did their spirits seem to rise. Jerry had been remarkably silent, but he thawed out over the coffee.

"Well, what next?" queried the one-eyed Birch, leaning back in his chair and lighting one of Captain Hollinger's cigars, as did the rest. "Now we're rid o' the Kanakas, mates, and the ship's ours, what next, I asks?"

"Jerry's the cap'n now," grinned Dailey. "How about it, Shark Smith?"

"I'm a-goin' down after that there Pirate Shark," announced Jerry, his mouth grim and set. He seemed to enjoy the consternation of the others hugely. "Now look ye here, mates. We've lost that dynamite. The only way to get at the treasure is to kill that there shark. He's mine, an' I'm a-goin' to kill him, mates. Bob, lad, you'll lend old Jerry that 'ere kris, won't you?"

The old man's lack of fear, or rather his stubborn determination to kill the Pirate Shark, was amazing. There was something about the gentle-faced old quartermaster, in spite of his plotting and his villainy, which attracted the boys—perhaps it was merely because he professed to like them. That he really cared nothing about them, except as hostages, they knew very well; he was caring for them in order to save his own skin.

However, Jerry soon proved that his brains were working as fast and as surely as ever. He listened to the protestations and arguments of the others unmoved, and at last brought down his fist with decision, until the dishes rattled in their skids.

"Mates, and you, lads, look ye here. That shark, I says, has had one good meal to-day, ain't that so? Well, he's a wise un, he is. He'll know that no more divers'll come down after he's gobbled one, so he won't hang around waitin'. He'll mebbe go off to take a stroll, like.

"All I want, mates, is to get inside that there wreck, with that kris in my hand. Then if he comes at me, why, he can't get at me, d'ye see! So long as a man's got his back to a wall, wi' solid bottom under him, a shark can't get him. It's when he's goin' down or comin' up that the shark can come along an' tip him over an' cut his lines and end him, mates."

This argument was plausible, and impressed all with its good sense. However, that did not remove the danger. It was highly probable that the shark was still hanging under the shadow of the Seamew waiting for more divers, and Jerry's courage did not alter matters in that respect.

The Kanakas had reported that the bottom was coral rock, and that the wreck seemed to be lying on its side, with gaping openings through the deck where the masts had been. During the discussion that followed Jerry's expressed plan, it was decided that if the ship was indeed an old galleon, she might have lodged on the rocks and split apart under the action of the currents, which would account for the openings in her decks. She was so overgrown with marine life, the Kanakas had said, that little could be made out during their short visits below the surface.

"No use talking, mates," declared Jerry obstinately, "I'm a-goin' down, and the sooner the better. Mates, you 'tend the pumps and keep watch for any sign o' that there black fin. If you see it, haul up. Bob, lad, lend me that 'ere kris, will you?"

As Jerry was plainly set upon the undertaking, there was nothing for it but to assent, which the other men did with bad grace. All tramped out on deck at once, and while Bob departed for the kris, Mart followed to the landing. As he did so, he noted that while the men still wore revolver belts, they had left their rifles at the head of the ladder. Jerry noticed it also, and paused.

"Yorke," he ordered abruptly, "you stand by wi' one o' them guns, in case I come up wi' the Pirate Shark after me. If you get a shot at him, take it and haul away."

Yorke nodded and remained on deck beside Mart, while the others went down the ladder to the landing with Jerry. Here the two diving suits had been laid out that morning, together with the wooden box containing the pumps. The hose and lifelines had already been connected, and all was prepared for a descent.

As Jerry began getting into the neck of the huge rubber dress, he cautioned the others against pulling him up too fast, for even in eight fathoms there is danger from the sudden lessening of air-pressure should the diver be hauled up rapidly. At this juncture Bob reappeared with his kris, which was handed down to the men below.

The two boys stood watching, a dozen feet from Yorke, who leaned carelessly on his rifle. Jerry struggled into the dress by slow degrees, for the sun was burning hot, then got the cuffs clipped tightly about his wrists while Dailey and Birch fastened on the heavy corselet. The sixteen-pound boots came next, and very comical indeed the old quartermaster looked, with his white hair blowing in the wind and his blue eyes as eager and lively as those of Bob himself.

Then Borden helped him into the huge copper helmet and screwed it on fast, while Dailey and Birch went to the pumps and began to turn the two handles. Jerry had not yet closed the front window of the helmet, and now his voice came for the last time.

"Well, good-bye, mates and lads! Here's for the treasure o' the Pirate Shark!"

With that he closed his helmet and seized the kris, waved a hand at the pumping men, and calmly stepped off the landing while Borden paid out the air hose and lifelines. For an instant the two boys stared down at the flashing shape in the water, then Bob felt a tug at his arm and met the excited eyes of his chum.

"Go get that old elephant gun," ordered Mart in a whisper. "Quick! Step soft!"



CHAPTER XIII

RECAPTURE

Bob departed without protest, after one wondering look, and Mart set himself to wait as patiently as might be. His own nerves, as well as those of the men, were on edge; they were all under a tremendous strain, for none of them expected ever to see Jerry alive again, so deeply was the fear of the Pirate Shark ingrained in them all by the happening of the morning.

Borden went on paying out the lines, and gradually the flicker of the copper helmet died away and merged with the green of the water. Even Yorke had forgotten to keep an eye out for the shark, and stood craned over the bulwarks, gazing down awesomely into the green depths below.

To Mart it seemed that an age passed. He knew that down beneath the water old Jerry could hear the strokes of the air-pump, and he wondered if the shark were anywhere around the wreck. Both boys had been given a very thorough knowledge of diving by the old quartermaster, from a theoretical standpoint, and had it not been for the Pirate Shark, Mart would have liked nothing better than a descent.

But just at present he had something else in mind. Down below on the gangway landing were Borden, Birch and Dailey, unarmed except for revolvers, and lined to the landing was one of the yacht's boats, lowered that morning. A dozen feet away, with his back to Mart, stood Yorke, absolutely absorbed in the scene below.

Mart knew exactly how big that huge elephant gun would look to four startled men, and he also knew that without Jerry's quick brains the rest were not to be feared. Suddenly he saw Dailey point to the gauge in the front of the pump, and at the same instant Borden ceased paying out line; Jerry had reached bottom!

"Here you are, Mart," came a soft voice behind him, and Mart whirled, nerved up to the action on which he had decided, and took the empty elephant gun from Bob's hands.

Slowly he raised the huge gun until it half-rested along the rail, pointing square at the head of Yorke. Then, speaking in a tone loud enough for Yorke to hear, he addressed Bob.

"Holly, go and take that rifle away from Yorke. He ain't safe to hold it."

The men below did not hear him, but Yorke did; and as he had expected, the seaman turned his head. As he looked full into the huge muzzle, Yorke's twisted, ever-leering face went pasty white and he submitted to Bob's relieving him of his rifle without a word.

"Hands up, Yorke!" commanded Mart, still softly. "Bob, get his revolver."

Bob obeyed, and still Yorke stared into the muzzle of the elephant gun with fear-stricken eyes and a ghastly pallor on his face, as he reached for the sky.

"Now get down on the landing," ordered Mart, and with that shifted his gun over the rail so that it pointed straight at the three men below. So far, they had heard nothing. Mart knew that he might be endangering Jerry's life, but he did not hesitate, and jerked his head for Bob to follow Yorke, who had started down the ladder.

"Get after him and take their guns, Bob."

The other boy obeyed, entering at once into Mart's plan. Yorke, paralyzed with fear, kept his hands in the air as he descended, and when his shadow fell across the landing, Dailey was the first to glance up in surprise.

"Hands up, you men!" commanded Mart sternly, though he felt a quiver in his throat. Would they call the bluff of that empty gun? "Quick about it, there!"

Into the one-eyed face of Birch flashed an evil anger mixed with fear; Dailey promptly stuck up his hands, as did Borden, who still clung to the lines, but Birch only continued pumping, though he looked up fearfully.

"I ain't a-goin' back on Jerry," he growled.

Mart read indecision in his tone, however. He knew that Jerry would be in no danger from a momentary cessation of pumping, just as he would be in no danger were his air hose to break, as the helmet valve would in that case close automatically and Jerry would have enough air left in his dress to last him for some minutes.

"Up with 'em, you pirate!" cried Mart, shifting his big gun a trifle so that Birch's glittering black eye looked full in the muzzle.

"Don't shoot, ye fool!" gasped Birch, flinging up his arms, and Mart knew he had won.

The men stood looking up, evil-eyed, panting with their exertions at the pumps, while Bob swiftly emptied their revolver-belts of weapons and knives and was up the ladder to the deck again, flinging down his load.

"You ain't a-goin' to murder poor old Jerry!" cried Dailey sharply. Mart winced.

"Bob," he returned, "you'll have to go down and keep those pumps going. Hurry up, now!"

His chum, rather pale-faced and flurried, hastened down again and began turning the double handle of the pumps, while the four men crowded beyond the ladder.

"Drop those lines, Borden," ordered Mart sternly, and the old seaman obeyed without demur. "Now unfasten that boat and get into her! Pile in, the whole crowd of you! Do it lively now! That's right. Get busy with those oars and row over to that island. When you get there, shove out that boat and let her float off, or I'll pepper you with a load o' buckshot."

"You ain't goin' for to maroon us there?"

"You're pirates and mutineers and I'm an officer o' this ship," replied Mart fiercely. "You step lively there or I'll send you where Jerry is, without any diving suit but with some buckshot in your back. Jump, now!"

Plainly, the men did not doubt either his intentions or his ability to fulfill his ferocious threat. While Bob continued his mechanical pumping, the four tumbled into the boat and pulled away without another word. Mart knew that once they were on the island, with the boat floated away, they were practically in prison. None of them would ever attempt swimming away to the mainland while the Pirate Shark was in the lagoon.

Mart stood at the gangway and kept the boat covered with his empty elephant gun, though now that the tension was relaxed and the victory his, everything blurred before his eyes and he felt weak with the reaction. The island was only a few hundred feet away, and the men pulled to the sandy beach without hesitation, tumbled out, and shoved the boat out again. Then they fled for the cover of the trees and bushes and were gone.

"By juniper!" breathed Bob from the landing below, as Mart flung the gun to the deck and leaned on the bulwark. "You look like a ghost, Mart! Trot down here and give me a hand at this job."

"Well, we licked 'em!" exclaimed Mart, a surge of exultation rising within him as he slowly descended the ladder. "We licked 'em with an empty gun, old scout! Say, can you beat it? Think of us standin' off a gang o' pirates with your dad's old elephant gun! Did you see how white Yorke was?"

As he spoke, he relieved Bob at the pump wheel, and the latter leaned back and mopped his dripping brow.

"Well, I'd hate to have you come after me in earnest!" declared Bob with a laugh. "Say, you can sure talk like a bad man, Mart! You had me dead sure you'd land those pirates with a bullet!"

"I was scared!" admitted Mart with a grin. "I was so blamed scared, Holly, that I had to make 'em think I meant it. Here, get to work and quit talking."

"No sign o' Jerry, eh?"

Bob fell to work at the opposite handle, but mindful of the old quartermaster's lessons, they kept up a steady pumping, not too fast, but enough to maintain a good air pressure below.

Watching the lines as they worked, there appeared to be little motion; the two diving suits were not equipped with telephones or speaking tubes, but the boys knew the signals.

"Watch out!" cried Bob suddenly, as he caught at the lines that were slipping off at a jerk from below. "Keep turnin'—I'll 'tend to the ropes!"

He barely caught the lines and coils of air hose in time to save them, and Mart, watching as he pumped, saw four distinct jerks—the signal to pull up. In reply, Bob jerked the lifelines once, meaning "Are you all right?"

One pull came back, assenting to the query, and without more delay Bob began to pull up Jerry. Mart cautioned him as to speed, and Bob nodded. Jerry had not gone down by the usual "shot-rope," often used by divers, because the gangway landing was nearly exactly over the wreck.

It was no task to pull up the quartermaster until the heavy copper helmet rose to the landing. Then Mart came and lent his assistance, and between them they got Jerry up and over the side. He did not have the kris with him, and he lay stretched out, unable to rise because of his heavy clothes and weights.

This bothered the boys not at all. Mart sent Bob to get all the rifles safely locked up in the cabins, while he set to work unscrewing Jerry's helmet. At first he felt some fear lest the old man had come to some harm, so motionless did he lie; but as he got the helmet unscrewed he heard Jerry's voice proceeding from within, and no sooner had he helped the quartermaster to sit up, gasping and blinking, than his fears were quite allayed.

"Ho!" cried Jerry, with wild triumph on his face as he flung back his white hair. "She's there, mates, she's there! Eight fathom down she is, and no Pirate Shark neither! Old Jerry found her, he did—eh? What—"

In his first transports the quartermaster had not observed that his mates were not around him, evidently. Then his eyes fell on Bob, coming down the ladder, and he gazed about blankly. Mart grinned.

"Is the wreck there, Jerry?"

For a moment Jerry made no reply, but stared around helplessly, and his jaw dropped. His head went up, and he searched the ladder and bulwarks above, until both Bob and Mart gave a shout of laughter.

"No use, Jerry," cried Bob cheerfully. "Your friends are gone, and there's a set of irons waiting for you up for'ard. Come, get out o' that suit and step lively, now."

Jerry gasped, then cried feebly:

"Gone? My mates gone? Hey, Dailey! Birch! Yorke! Where are you, mates?"

The terror and consternation on his face sobered the boys instantly. He tried to get up, the veins standing out on his forehead, his eyes straining frantically, but Mart swiftly pushed him back and faced him. Helpless though the old man was in his heavily-weighted diving suit, there was something terrible in his aspect that made both boys feel a sudden fear of his unleashed fury.

"Sit back there," ordered Mart peremptorily. "No use calling for your mates, Jerry. They can't help you now, and you're in for it."

"Eh?" Jerry stared up, his face working horribly, his fingers twining and untwining. "You—you've killed 'em? You've killed poor old Borden, lad, and Dailey—and Birch—"

Mart could stand it no longer.

"No, nobody's killed, Jerry," he said kindly, sympathizing with the old man's terrible agitation. "We've marooned your men on the island, and they're helpless and unarmed. The Seamew belongs to us now, and I think it'll be best for all concerned that you go in irons. We can't trust you, Jerry, and that's flat."

Slowly the old quartermaster comprehended his defeat. A look of anguish flitted across his face, his eyes lost their keen sharpness and became old and bleared once more, and with a groan he lowered his head on his breast and his white hair fell around his features in the sunlight.

Mart caught a pitying glance from Bob, but he knew too well that Jerry was not to be trusted, and drew his chum aside to the ladder.

"Look here, Holly," he whispered earnestly, "we can't get soft-hearted now. Jerry ain't half as simple as he looks, take it from me. We got our work cut out for us, too. Your dad's over there in the jungle, remember, and them Malays have got 'most all the crew pris'ners. That's goin' to be a mighty hard nut for us to crack. We've got to put Jerry in irons, that's all."

Bob nodded, his eyes roving over the water.

"Look there, Mart," he said, pointing to the island. "The boat's gone back to the shore."

Mart glanced across to the island, and saw that the boat had indeed drifted back to the beach and lay slowly stranding as the tide dropped. However, he forgot about the matter instantly, as Jerry's voice came to them.

"Look here, lads," and the old man's voice came softly, appealingly. "I got a proposition to make. You've got me fair and square, lads, fair and square—but I want to get down to that there wreck again."

Mart eyed him keenly, but the old man was evidently in earnest.

"Let's hear your proposition," he said curtly.



CHAPTER XIV

A TRUCE

Jerry collected himself with an effort. It must indeed have been a bitter pill for him to swallow, reflected Mart as he watched the old quartermaster, while Bob stood at his elbow. Jerry had gone down leaving his gang in full possession of the yacht; he had evidently found the wreck untenanted by the Pirate Shark; and he had returned to the surface to find all his fine schemes shattered by the two boys.

Undoubtedly the old man was a villain, and he had showed that morning that he cared nothing for human life so that his plans were carried out; but now he looked so helpless, sitting there in the blazing sun with his white hair falling over his neck, that the boys could not help feeling a touch of sympathy for him.

"Lads," he said slowly, gazing up at them with his gentle blue eyes, "I found that there wreck, and she's split apart so's her cargo can be got at easy. There's gold a-lyin' there for the pickin' up, lads!" His voice grew hoarse with eagerness.

"Eight fathom down she lies, lads, eight fathom down! I got to go down again, lads—I been waitin' too long for this chance! I just want to get my hands on that there gold, I do. The Pirate Shark ain't around, lads—don't be hard on old Jerry! You've got me, lads, you've got me. Don't put me in irons yet, lads. Let me go down once more, just to get my hands on that there gold—"

"Calm down, Jerry," broke in Bob, as the quartermaster's voice grew hoarser still, his old face working almost hysterically. "We're not going to hurt you. I tell you what. Wait till dad gets back with Swanson and the crew, then we'll get up that treasure for you—"

"No!" Jerry's voice rang out clear and strong, a feverish anxiety in his face. "I want to do it myself, lads! If the Pirate Shark's there I want to get at him with that there kris!"

"Where is the kris, by the way?" interjected Mart.

"Stickin' in the side o' the wreck," replied Jerry in a calmer voice. "She's layin' over on her side, hard and fast in the coral. I felt around a bit, lads, and I seen a box there—it's rotten, it is, and it's full o' gold! The mystery o' the sea, lads, the mystery o' the sea! The gold's down below, and us up here above—and fish tell no tales, lads! Let me go down once more, lads, and I'll not say another word, or cause any more trouble, that I won't!"

The boys looked at each other irresolutely. After all, reflected Mart, there could be no risk to themselves in letting Jerry go down again. He was plainly in a high state of excitement at having found the wreck and possibly the treasure, and it would possibly be more injurious to restrain him than it would be to let him continue his work.

Of course, there was danger from the Pirate Shark, and a terrible danger it was. But as Jerry had said, once he stood with his back against the wreck and the kris in his hand, he would be able to hold his own. The great danger came from the chance that the shark might catch him going down or coming up, overturn him in the water, and snap him off.

"I don't know," said Bob slowly. "Of course, if that shark wasn't there—"

"I can take care o' him," broke in Jerry eagerly, clutching at his helmet. "He allus snaps off the lifelines first, they say, lads. If the lines or the hose breaks, why, haul up on whichever's left. But he ain't there, lads, he ain't there! You'll let old Jerry go down again! Come an' help me up, lads."

"Hold on," exclaimed Mart as Bob impulsively started forward. "We don't aim to let you start any rough-house with us, Jerry. I don't trust you a little bit. Bob, you stand by while I help Jerry get his helmet on, then get the pump goin' while I slide him over the edge of the platform."

The quartermaster broke into a flood of eager words, which Bob abruptly cut short.

"Look here, Jerry! What about dad? Are they holdin' him prisoner on shore, like you said, or—or—"

He paused, and Jerry chuckled as he glanced up, his head on one side like that of a bird, his blue eyes suddenly bright again.

"No, no, lad! He's just taken care of, that's all. Mebbe we'll make a compromise yet, lads—you holdin' me and the yacht, and me holdin' your father, eh! Well, we'll see. Birch can get him off, lads. Birch talks the lingo, he does, and if anythin' happens to me, you talk to him."

This speech relieved the minds of both boys immensely. Half their fears had been for the men who had gone so trustingly into the jungle, to be held prisoners by the Malays, and now that they were sure no harm was being done Captain Hollinger, they felt much more inclined to deal gently with old Jerry.

"So when you promised dad that you'd have gold on board when he came back," said Bob with a slow grin, "you meant the treasure, eh?"

Jerry chuckled and nodded.

"Aye, lads, just that. But you'll mind the pumps, eh? You'll not let old Jerry go without air?"

"Sure not," Mart reassured him. "We'll take care of you fine, Jerry."

The quartermaster reached out for his big helmet, and Bob sprang forward to assist him. At the same instant, however, they were startled by a hail from the shore, and looked up to see Birch standing beside the stranded boat.

"Seamew ahoy!" he called again.

"Well, what do you want?" returned Mart.

"Let me row out alone? I want to talk."

Mart glanced at Bob. "How about it, Holly? I s'pose he wants some grub and water."

"Let him come out, lads," spoke up Jerry before Bob could reply. "You've got us, you have; let him come out, lads, and talk it over."

"All right," shouted Mart to the seaman, then turned to Bob. "Holly, you get up on deck with one o' them rifles. If there's any trouble, you shoot Jerry, see?"

Bob grimaced behind the quartermaster's back, and ascended the ladder. Watching the shore, Mart saw Birch turn and say something; the forms of the other men came from among the bushes and they helped shove out the boat. The one-eyed seaman leaped into her and settled down at the oars.

As Jerry was firmly anchored down by his weights and heavy boots, Mart had no fear of any trouble arising. When Birch had come within twenty feet of the yacht, however, Mart stopped him curtly.

"Close enough, there! Now, what do you want?"

"Water, sir," pleaded the seaman respectfully. "You've got us, sir, and you've got Jerry, there; but you ain't goin' to torture us, be you?"

"No," returned Mart. After all, he reflected, the complaint was only just. There was no water on the island, and it would be rank torture to maroon the four men there without either food or drink, for the afternoon sun was at its height.

"You stay where you are, Birch," he went on. "When we've got out a breaker of water and some biscuit, you can come in for them."

Birch nodded, and Mart went up the ladder to where Bob was waiting. Taking the rifle from the hands of his chum, he asked Bob to get out a breaker of water and a bag of biscuit. Bob nodded and darted forward, while Mart remained leaning over the rail, his rifle in plain sight.

Down below, Jerry gazed at Birch solemnly, then shook his head.

"You made a fine mess o' things," he declared slowly. "A fine mess o' things, Birch! The treasure's there, eight fathom down."

"It's your own fault," retorted the other sullenly. "Didn't we say to send them kids ashore, hey? But you wouldn't do it, and now they've got us."

"Yes, they've got us!" screamed old Jerry suddenly, shaking his fist as he sat. "They've got us, you fool! Why didn't you keep your eye on 'em, eh? You're fine mates for a man to have, you are! The minute I gets out o' sight, you have to go and smash up everything! Nice set o' mates, you are. Bah!"

And the disgusted quartermaster spat into the water, while Mart grinned in enjoyment of the scene. Jerry's vehement anger was certainly unfeigned, while Birch grew more sullen with each moment. Verily evil-faced and villainous he looked, as he sat in the blazing sun and leaned on his oars, and Mart shuddered to think what might have happened to all of them had it not been for that elephant gun.

At this juncture Bob arrived with a small keg of water, which he carried down to the landing. Then he went forward again after a bag of biscuit. As the terrified Ah Sing was still burning joss sticks and chattering prayers to his ancestors, Bob had to rummage about for the biscuit himself, but he finally secured a half-emptied bag, which he carried down and deposited on the landing below.

"Come along, Birch, and don't try any funny work," demanded Mart. "Bob, you sling 'em into the boat and keep out of his reach."

But Birch had plainly come without any thoughts of treachery. He rowed up slowly until the prow of his boat scraped the landing, and Bob heaved the keg and biscuit aboard, shoving off the boat instantly. Without a word, Birch sullenly fell to work at his oars again and headed for the island. Mart set down the rifle and descended to the landing.

"Well, if you'll give me a hand wi' this here helmet, lads," suggested Jerry, "I'll be goin' down."

Bob stepped forward and helped him on with the big helmet, screwing it down into the collar. Mart stood over the pump wheel, and as he glanced at the island he saw that Birch had landed, and that he and the others were carrying up the water and biscuit. It occurred to him that before dark he must make sure that the boat was shoved out, even if he had to go ashore in another boat to get it; for it was imperative that the four mutineers should be unable to leave the island.

However, there was plenty of time left for that, he thought, and so turned to Jerry. Bob was just completing his task, and Jerry had opened the front window of his helmet for a parting injunction.

"You'll mind the pumps, lads?"

"You bet!" replied Bob cheerfully.

"Hold on," cried Mart quickly, as the quartermaster began to close his window. "You sure you've got that kris handy down there, Jerry? You don't want to take any chances, you know."

"It's there, lad, it's there, eight fathom down," responded Jerry with a faint chuckle. "It's a-sticking into the old wreck, it is, right where I can put my hand up to it. Well, lads, mind them pumps now! Good-bye, lads—here's to the mystery o' the sea, and hoping as the Pirate Shark ain't around!"

So Jerry collectedly shut himself in and waited until Mart, at the pumps, had got his diving suit well inflated. Then, disdaining Bob's proffered assistance, he worked himself to the edge of the landing and slowly lowered himself over into the water. Bob seized the lines and paid them out slowly, thus holding Jerry upright and keeping his descent slow and steady, while Mart pumped slowly and methodically, alternately watching the flickering helmet down in the green depths and the pump-gauges.

At length the gauges marked seven fathoms, and the dial finger slowly rose to eight, then stopped suddenly. Jerry had reached the bottom.

"All right, Holly," said Mart quickly. "Come along an' take the other wheel."

Bob dropped the lines in a heap and sprang to the pumps. For a moment the two boys worked in silence, then Mart chuckled.

"Say, I guess we've got those pirates scared stiff, eh?"

"Looks like it," returned Bob, his eyes on the water. "That fellow Birch—great Scott! Look there!"

The sudden fear in his voice struck Mart like a blow. Looking at the water, he saw a little line of bubbles rising, and the terrible significance of it sent horror into his heart.

"The hose is cut!" he cried, and leaped to the lines.

But though he tugged, there came no answering pull. White-faced and stricken by the swift terror of what had happened, he began yanking at the line and hose together, and as they came swiftly up he felt a thrill of cold dread that seized on his heart and held him dumb.

With feverish haste he hauled in both lines, shrinking at thought of what had befallen the old quartermaster. Then, without warning, the lines shot up and curled about the landing—cut short and clean.

"The shark—" began Bob, white-lipped and paralyzed with horror.

"No!" exclaimed Mart, his mind leaping ahead swiftly. "The kris, Holly! He said it was stickin' in the wreck. The lines came against it and cut off! Here, get the other lines connected up with that spare helmet—move lively!"

Bob stumbled forward in blind obedience, as Mart flung away the useless lines and darted to the spare diving suit, which lay ready with its hose and lines coiled at its side. He opened the wide neck and, snatching off his shoes, began to get into the huge garment in feverish haste.

"What you going to do?" queried the doubly horrified Bob.

"Goin' down, o' course," snapped Mart. "Hurry up, there!"



CHAPTER XV

MART GOES DOWN

"But, Mart!" Poor Bob's voice rang out in terror-stricken accents. "Jerry'll be drowned before you can reach him!"

"Shut up!" crackled out Mart, snapping his wrist-bands close. "He won't either. When the air hose is cut, that helmet valve closes automatically. Jerry's down there, an' he can't get up, that's all. Hurry up with that hose!"

Bob fell to work again, his fingers trembling. Mart got into the big shoes and laced over the flaps, for he knew that every second counted, but at the same time he must overlook no slightest item in his dress.

Never had his mind worked so swiftly as now, when the danger call came. It had occurred to him to drop over a weighted line, but he knew that Jerry might be unable to see it, and they were not sure of the quartermaster's exact position. In the same brain-flash he realized that Jerry would have some minutes of life, due to the air contained in his inflated dress; there was time for him to get down with a spare line and get Jerry up, if he acted promptly. So he had acted.

He had pictured in his mind the scene below, with that three-foot kris sticking out from the side of the wreck. The instant those bubbles appeared, he knew there was danger; and the instant he hauled up the clean-severed ends, he guessed that the line and hose had brushed against the keen kris and had been parted. Bob's startled cry had appalled him for an instant, but they had seen no shadow in the green depths, and he leaped at the true solution without hesitation.

"Get that helmet screwed on, now," he snapped, seeing that Bob had connected the air hose. "You keep your nerve, old scout! Everything depends on you, up at this end, so don't get flustered. Chase up and get a coil o' rope. I'll send Jerry up to you first. Haul him up slow, remember."

Bob, who had recovered his nerve under Mart's apparent calm, dashed up the ladder and was down again with a coil of light line. The helmet was screwed down tightly, and Mart pressed his chum's hand warmly. Then, taking one end of the spare line and knotting it around his waist beside his own life line, he drew his sheath knife in case of emergency and stood waiting for his dress to inflate.

He had concealed his own fear behind his frantic haste, and now he did not hesitate to admit to himself that he was afraid—and very much afraid, too. Oddly enough, the thought of the Pirate Shark did not cause him any great concern. While all during the voyage he had looked forward to diving, now that he was about to step off into that forty feet of water he would have given anything in the world to be able to stay up above.

But the thought of Jerry drove him steadily to the task. Picturing the old man down in the depths, hoping agonizingly for some shred of help from the two boys to whose hands he had trusted himself, Mart resolutely set himself to conquering his fears. The life of a man depended on his keeping up courage and on his remaining cool-headed. When he felt that his dress was full of air, he looked at Bob through the thick glass of the side-plates in his helmet, then sat down and resolutely lowered himself over the edge.

He very nearly overbalanced in doing so, for, in order to counterpoise the forward weight of the big helmet, the weight on the diver's back is five pounds heavier than that in front. The instant his legs were in the water, however, the terrible weight of the leaded boots was gone.

A final glance at his chum showed him that Bob, now steadied down to desperate work, was turning the big wheel with one hand and holding the lifeline in the other, ready to pay it out. At that, Mart gathered up all his courage, sidled off the landing, and let himself drop.

For an instant the sensation was terrible, as he saw the green water closing over him, and the sunlight dimming overhead. Then an almost imperceptible jerk, and he knew that Bob had stayed his fall downward, and was lowering him more gradually. He had no fears as to Bob's capability, and after that first instant he slowly collected himself to the task in hand.

He forced himself to look downward, for now he found that the water was growing darker about him, and he could feel it rushing past his bare hands. The touch, strangely, gave him courage; the water was very warm here in the lagoon, and it was something tangible, something that offset the cold dread of the green dimness rising up at him.

Suddenly he felt a determined tug at the lifeline about his waist, and as this was the usual code query as to how he was, he gave Bob a responding tug. He was getting deeper now. Without the slightest warning, he found that he was beginning to see things around him.

A fish darted past, almost flicking its tail against his front glass. Then a long streamer of seaweed rose at his right, frightening him at first in the belief that it was a snake. And with that, marine life was all around him, there came a shock—and he knew that he had reached the bottom, eight fathoms down!

Beyond a slight ringing in his ears, he felt no unwonted sensations. All about him was marine life—shells and slime and solid coral underneath his feet, with queer things that seemed to slide away from his presence. There was a little seaweed, but not much; sponges, sea fans, and several tiny writhing octopi that shot away and vanished in the obscurity. He could distinctly hear the strokes of the pumps, regular and steady.

"Good old Holly!" he thought. "But—this ain't getting Jerry."

He realized that as there was no wreck in sight in front or to the sides, and as the landing-stage of the Seamew had been directly over it, he must be facing away from the wreck. So far, he had not moved. Now, as he tried to turn about, he found himself bounding up several feet, and laughed to himself as he remembered Jerry's lessons.

But he had turned about—and the scene before him made him start back in awe and amazement. Hardly ten feet away from him was the wreck—a great dim shape with streaming sea growth and barnacles that rose more like a huge rock than anything else. A trifle above the level of his head flamed out a little silver line of light—it was the kris, protruding handle outward from the barnacled wood. But where was Jerry?

Then he saw, and moved forward with a terrible fear lest he had been too slow. The kris was stuck in the wreck at a corner, where the huge mass had split apart and had made a V-shaped opening. Just inside this lay the motionless form of Jerry, who must have become insensible from lack of air. Beyond a doubt he had penetrated into the opening, and as he did so his hose and line had caught on the kris and parted. The very weapon he had counted on for safety had betrayed him!

As he moved forward, Mart took precautions against the same danger, by pulling out the kris and sticking it into the wood again farther ahead. Then, with that strange lightness that divers feel, he leaped forward, clutching at his spare line. Swiftly drawing his knife across it, for he had no time now to untie knots, he caught the end under Jerry's shoulders and knotted it. Looking down into the glass of Jerry's helmet, he could make out that the old man's eyes were closed, while his mouth was open and was feebly gasping for air.

"By golly, I just got here in time!" thought Mart with a quick breath of relief. "He'll have to go up first, I guess. Bob can't haul us both."

With that, he separated the spare line from his own, and tugged it four times. Bob must have been in desperate fear, for he never paused to reply, but the form of Jerry rose almost at once.

Mart could still hear the pump-strokes going, however, and the air he breathed was fresh and pure. He thought of Bob, pumping with one hand and hauling up with the other, and at the same instant he thought of the four mutineers ashore. What if they had seen the whole affair and were to come out in their boat and recapture the ship?

At the very thought he felt the perspiration stand out as he gazed dully at the swaying figure of Jerry which was slowly vanishing above him. However, there was no use speculating, he considered. Little by little the form of Jerry merged into the flickering lights and shadows overhead; staring up, he could perceive the darker shade of the yacht directly above him.

"Well, I might's well take a look at the treasure!" he thought suddenly, and with that turned to the wreck. Cautiously making his way into the V-shaped opening where the rotted ship had fallen apart, he perceived that her outlines were gradually taking shape to his eyes.

She was lying directly on her side, the decks rising straight up from the rock bottom. Ahead and behind him there were projections from her decks, no doubt the forecastle and high poop of other days. She seemed to be split well asunder, for the opening was a good five feet across, and without hesitation Mart advanced into it.