Chapter XI: The Schooner

"Vat aboudt it, Tick?" queried Carl. "Dere iss more as vone poat named der _Tolphin_, I bed you."

"Sure; but there's no such happenchance in this case. Sixty's boat was a brig, and that was her name. This boat's a square-rigged two-master, and the word _Dolphin_, plain as the nose on your face, is there on the stern. It's a cinch this was Sixty's boat."

"Vell, subbosing id vas? Id don'd cut some ice. Ve're here, und Sixty iss on der shdeamer. Led's go looking some more."

"There's something main queer about all this tangle," muttered Dick, leading the way to the sliding doors of the after companion and removing the tarpaulin. "This ought to take us into the captain's quarters, and maybe we'll find something there that will shed light on the situation."

The doors were locked, but Dick sent Carl for the axe and smashed them open. The close air was almost stifling, but the boys faced it and descended into the small cabin. A sextant and a chronometer were the first things Dick's eyes lighted upon.

"If there are charts in that locker in the charthouse," he observed, "we can very easily tell whereabouts in the gulf we are."

Carl wanted to know how this was to be done, but Dick did not have time to explain, just then. He opened some windows, and the door leading out through the break in the poop. This caused a refreshing current of air to blow through the room.

There was a bunk built against one wall, and, like those in the fo'c'sle and the charthouse, it was in a state of disorder. A sea chest was near one wall. It was opened and, from the way its contents were scattered, it appeared to have been hastily rummaged.

In the centre of the cabin was a table, securely bolted to the floor. Dick pulled open a drawer of the table and drew out a couple of papers.

"The skipper got away in such a hurry," said Dick, "he didn't even take time to get these."

"Vat dey vas, anyhow?" inquired Carl, drawing close and looking over Dick's shoulder.

"The ship's log and her manifest," answered Carl.

"Dot's a funny kind oof a log," said Carl. "Vy dey call some bapers a log?"

"It is just a name, matey, and means a document in which the first officer sets down the things that happen to the ship, how far she sails, any notable things that occur, and so on. It's a sort of diary."

"Vat a funny pitzness!" exclaimed Carl. "Und dot odder t'ing, vat you say iss a manivest. Vat's dot?"

"Why, a manifest is a paper signed by the master. It gives the vessel's name and tonnage, the port she hails from and a full description of the cargo. This tells the number and character of the various boxes, bales and packages in the cargo, where they're taken aboard, and where they're going to. This is full of information for us, matey. And it's signed by James Sixty, as master, which proves conclusively that we're on the boat that was once under his orders."

"Meppy dot's righdt. Anyvay, id don'd make so mooch tifference so long as Sixdy ain'd here now."

"But it's queer we happened to slam into his boat during the storm last night."

"Forged aboudt dot und dell me vere der prig comes from, vat she's got apoardt, und how mooch salvage ve ged oof ve take her py New Orleans."

An examination of the log and the manifest showed the boys that the _Dolphin_ had been doing some great stunts at traveling. Her last port of call was New Orleans, where she had discharged some manufactured products from Liverpool and filled out the available space in her hold with oak barrel staves. On her way from Liverpool she had also put in at Boston and taken on a consignment of mill work--that is, doors, sashes, window frames, etc.--which was to go to Belize. Before reaching Liverpool, the _Dolphin_ had called at Lisbon, Portugal, for part of a load of cork. Previous to reaching Lisbon she had picked up some hemp and sugar and copra at Manila, which she had put ashore at Liverpool. Originally, the brig had cleared from San Francisco.

"Dot mixes me all oop," muttered Carl, who had seated himself in a chair while listening to Dick's reading.

"Belize seems to be the place she was going to when she left New Orleans," said Dick. "It appears, too, that she took on canned goods in addition to mill work in Boston, and that both were for British Honduras. We'd better go down in the hold and hunt for those canned goods."

Carl was immensely delighted with the proposition; anything that had a prospect of food at the end of it always made a hit with him. A lantern was secured in the captain's cabin, lighted with a match from the galley, and the boys stripped open a hatch and got into the 'tween decks.

Between the main and the lower deck there was a good deal of water, and barrel staves were floating in every direction. There were a number of boxes snugly stowed out of reach of the water, however, and Dick, by the aid of the lantern, discovered that some of the upper boxes were filled with canned pork and beans.

"Yah," chuckled Carl, clinging to the iron ladder that led down from the hatch, "I bed you dot come from Poston! Iss id der parrel staves, Tick, vat keeps der wreck afloat?"

"No," answered Dick, crawling over the cargo and pushing the lantern ahead of him, "there are not enough staves to do that, although, of course, they help--and so does the mill work. The cork, though, must be down in the lower hold, and that, I take it, is what buoys the ship up principally. Cork is a great---- Well, keelhaul me!"

Dick broke off his words with a startled exclamation.

"Vat's to pay now?" cried Carl.

"There's something here, matey, that's not down in the manifest."

"Vat id iss?"

"Boxes of ammunition and Krag-Jorgensen rifles."

"Hoop-a-la! Meppy olt Sixdy vas going to durn birate, und dot a gale plew along, wrecked der prig und made him shange his mindt. Vell, nefer mindt dot shtuff, Tick. Der pork und peans iss ammunidion enough for me. Id's pooty near tinner dime, so come on mit a pox."

Dick finished inspecting the rifles and ammunition and crawled back along the piles of boxes and over the sloshing water. Between the two of them, the boys succeeded in getting a case of the canned beans up on the deck.

"Sixty is an old law-breaker," averred Dick. "I had already sized him up for being a beach comber and I can't understand why Captain Nemo, Jr., has anything to do with him."

"Meppy Nemo, Jr., don'd have somet'ing to do mit him, und dot vat Sixdy toldt us vas all some cock-und-pull shtories. Aber vat makes you t'ink he vas a law-preaker?"

"Those rifles and that ammunition. Things like those, Carl, when they're not down in a ship's manifest were not taken aboard for any proper purpose. My eye! I'd give something handsome to know what's up."

While Carl was opening the box of beans and getting dinner, Dick began clearing the deck of the raffle of cordage that covered it. By the time he had finished and cast the splintered yards adrift, Carl was out of the galley and calling for him to come and eat.

In the afternoon the boys brought the bedding from the bunks in the charthouse and spread it on the deck to dry in the sun; then they went down into the 'tween-decks again and looked over as much of the cargo as was above water. They discovered that the freight of arms and ammunition was quite extensive. Carl could not work up much interest in the rifles and cartridges, but, while Dick was prowling through the wet hold looking them over, he dug out a box of tinned beef and a cask of ship's biscuit. With these discoveries they were able to vary their supper menu.

Leaving Carl to get supper, Dick hunted up two more lanterns and trimmed and lighted them and hung them forward, aft and amidships of the wreck.

"I'm tired enough to do a caulk to the king's taste," said Dick, as he left the galley and cast a self-satisfied glance at the lights, "but we can't both of us turn in. We'll have to stand watch and watch. Do you want the first half of the night or the last half?"

"Vat's der use oof shtanding vatch?" protested Carl. "Dere von't nopody shdeal der poat, und oof ve vas going to run indo anypody ve couldn't helup dot."

"It's necessary, Carl," answered Dick, "to know all that takes place while we're on the brig. If our lights should attract any vessel that's passing, one of us ought to be on the alert to answer a hail."

"All righdt. I'll take der fairst vatch, und I vill call you py der chronomoder in der gaptain's room."

Dick had wound the chronometer and set it by guess. The timepiece might be off schedule by an hour or so, but it would serve for dividing the watches.

Leaving Carl by the galley, Dick climbed to the poop deck and went to the charthouse and turned in. Carl's mind was running on "spooks" a good deal, and the swish of water under the deck, and the grinding and thumping of the floating staves, kept his fears and his imagination working overtime.

However, nothing happened; and, after he had gone into the cabin seven or eight times and consulted the chronometer, he at last found it to be twelve o'clock and bounded up the poop-deck steps.

Dick had slept soundly, and when he went forward Carl crept into his warm blankets and was snoring almost as soon as his head was on the pillow.

It seemed to him that he had no more than closed his eyes before he was brought up in his bunk by a loud yell. It was daylight, and the sun was shining through the open door of the charthouse.

"Carl! Come out here!"

Carl leaped from the bunk and hurried out on the deck and to the broken monkey rail.

From the rail he could look down on the main deck and get a good view of Dick.

The sailor had found a piece of canvas and was standing on the stump of one of the masts, waving a signal.

Carl's eyes wandered out over the water, and his heart gave a bound as they rested on a sail not more than half a mile away.

"It's a schooner," shouted Dick, "and her lookout has seen us! The craft's lying-to, matey, and we'll be taken off this old hulk in a brace of shakes."

"Hoop-a-la!" shouted Carl.