Chapter VI: Out of the Frying Pan

Aboard the Miami, Nick Fratelli dashed through the door of the mess-room. Cicero Tony Schultz was inside, lying low.

"Afraid to get shot, eh?" sneered Nick. "Well, you just take these keys and let me loose, quick, or you'll be in worse danger than you'd be in on deck!"

But it required some time before the fumbling fingers of the German found the right key and slipped the handcuffs off the hands of his new leader.

Just as this was accomplished, Theresa, awakened by the shooting, came dewy-eyed and sleepy out of the doorway of her private stateroom, only to be immediately seized and manacled, before she had time to realize what a revolution had taken place.

This accomplished, Fratelli rushed to the pilot house, and, crawling along the floor to avoid the bullets which were crashing through the windows, took hold of the wheel and brought the vessel around. Then, signaling full speed ahead to Scutari, who was in the engine-room, Nick steered for open sea.

Swede Johnson had been shot only through the left hand, and had long since crawled to safety, followed by the Eskimo. Charley Loy had remained discreetly under his bunk during the entire disturbance.

When safely out of range from the shore, the Miami turned south, and finally tied up behind a small island, which looked as though it would make a good headquarters. Then the new leader of the gang gathered his forces in the mess-room.

There was Nick the Rat, himself, Charley Loy and Theresa, both sullen and reticent. Swede, with his left hand bandaged. Cicero, Scutari and Friday. And the black cat, misnamed Tabby.

The habitually sullen Italian gangster was almost genial.

"Boys," he began.

Theresa pouted.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began again.

Theresa grinned.

Nick tried a third peroration. "Whereas in the course of--er--"

Theresa snickered. "Who d'you think you are--Captain Jimmy?"

"Look here, you little Portuguese guttersnipe," he growled, "if you don't stop handing me the raspberries, you get your face slapped, and besides, I'm going to--"

"Gee now, Mr. Fratelli," interrupted Terry beguilingly, "a nice kind gentleman like you wouldn't do that to poor little me, I'm sure."

Nick, quickly placated, smirked at her, and continued: "What I started to say was that we are now shut of that conceited fake navy-officer, and have a real man as leader, we're all set. I'm going to keep the booze locked up, just as he did."

Frowns all around.

"But I'm going to be much more liberal in handing it out."

Smiles again.

"Friday, here, has been teaching me to talk Eskimo language. Swede has been right, all along, in saying that it is foolish for a small party of us to try to buck all the Vikings. But, with Friday as interpreter, we can line up all the natives and use them to fight the Vikings with. I've got more brains than Jimmy, even if I don't read as many books, or talk as high-and-mighty, as he does."

It was a long speech for the usually sullen Italian. Loud applause greeted the announcement.

Then Fratelli continued: "Now let's search the ship. But lay off the rum-lockers."

* * * * *

The search disclosed the store of rifles and ammunition, beyond their wildest dreams. The two machine guns were promptly brought out and mounted in the bow and stern.

Then, while the Chink prepared a meal, assisted by Terry as well as was possible in her shackled condition, the others went ashore to explore the island. It turned out to be unusually devoid of underbrush, but thickly wooded, giving it a parklike appearance. In the ground, among the trees, were numerous large holes, each with a pile of earth in front of it.

"I tank von big boog," said Swede, looking cautiously down one of the holes.

"It must be a big bug, to make a hole like that!" replied Fratelli.

Just at that instant a pungent smell was wafted down the breeze, and Cicero, who had been some distance beyond them, came running back yelling: "Skunks! And _Gott in Himmel_, such skunks!"

And after him trotted two black-and-white striped animals about the size of bears. The entire party promptly clambered up the nearest tree, Swede nearly getting captured because hampered by his sore hand.

Luckily it turned out that the skunks couldn't climb, but they nosed about at the foot of the tree interminably--and odorously. The sun hung motionless in the center of the sky, and the two beasts seemed oblivious of the passage of time.

At last, however, they hurried away.

The five men were just about to descend, when Swede remarked: "I tank dey vere frighten' by somet'ing."

Quite true, for at that moment a long-haired, clumsy animal, considerably larger than an elephant, lumbered into sight. Its hind feet were placed squarely on the ground in walking like those of a bear or of a man, but the claws on its front feet were so long that it had to plant the sides of those feet, rather than the soles of them, on the ground. This gave it a curious, waddling gait.

Upon reaching the foot of their tree, this huge beast reared up on its hind legs and embraced the trunk with its fore legs.

"We're goners!" cried Cicero Tony. "_This_ one can climb."

But, instead of climbing, it hooked its claws around the trunk and leaned backward. The tree swayed with the movement, nearly shaking off the men like five pieces of ripe fruit.

Holding on with one paw, the megatherium reached higher up with the other and took a new hold. The tree bent a little further. The process was repeated, and the tree bent still further.

The men, now almost within reach, scrambled higher among the branches. But the beast persisted in its slow inexorable tactics, and the tree bent lower and lower.

At last the men reached the top of the tree, and the top of the tree had been bent down so that it nearly touched the ground.

There seemed to be but one thing to do. The five men jumped, and ran for their lives to the shore.

But the beast did not pursue them. In fact, he seemed as oblivious of their presence as if they had been so many bugs. He sat on his haunches, calmly nibbling the tender shoots of the crown of the tree. It was for these, rather than for the men, that he had gone to all the trouble of hauling the tree to the ground.

* * * * *

But one misfortune followed another. As they reached the beach, they heard the chugging of a motor. The Miami was backing out into the sea, and already was clearly out of reach.

"Turn about is fair play," philosophically remarked Scutari.

"The hell you say!" roared Fratelli. "We left the others on the mainland with several days' rations, and within a few hours' walk of a civilized city. They wanted to go conquering the blamed thing, anyway. But here we are on a dinky little island, full of tree-pullers and over-sized skunks."

At that moment, the sound of the motors ceased.

"Quick," shouted Nick. "Who can swim?"

"I can, a little," replied Scutari.

"Then hop to it," commanded Nick. "Fetch me that boat."

Without waiting to strip, the Greek plunged in.

Meanwhile, on board the Miami, little Terry was holding the wheel in her manacled hands, and the Chinaman in the engine room was frantically trying to restart the stalled engine. The girl rang the bell several times for full speed ahead, and then rushed aft to see what was the matter.

She had scarcely entered the engine room when she heard a step on the deck, and knew it was one of Nick's men. Instantly she grappled with the startled Chinaman. So, when Scutari entered, dripping, it appeared as though a fight were in progress for the control of the boat.

"Gee, Mr. Scutari," she exclaimed, with pretended relief, as Scutari's pistol-threat halted the struggle, "Charley Loy started the engines and tried to make his get-away, but I stopped the engines. He couldn't be here and in the pilot house both at once. Gee, Mr. Scutari, I'm glad you got here just in time."

"Charley," commanded the Greek, "you stay right here. Terry, you go to the wheel and steer her in shore again. You're a good kid. I'll see that Nick remembers you for this."

Charley Loy stared with bewilderment at Terry's retreating figure, but he said nothing. Saying nothing at the appropriate time is the chief accomplishment of the heathen Chinee.

Scutari had but little difficulty in starting the engine. The trouble was merely a disconnected wire, which he naturally assumed to have been Terry's work. So this lent plausibility to her story, which he never thought to question, anyway.

As the Miami neared the beach and stopped, Nick the Rat waded aboard and rushed into the pilot house.

"You dirty little gutter-brat--" he began.

But Scutari, anticipating some such development, arrived just in time from the engine room and cut in with: "Chief, you've got her all wrong. It's her that saved the boat for us. The Chink tried to slip away, but she pulled one of the wires loose and stopped the engine. The two of them was fighting to get at the wire, when I came aboard."

"Is that so?" asked Nick, a bit incredulously.

"Gee, Mr. Fratelli, you didn't think I'd leave _you_, didja?" replied Terry archly, and Nick the Rat was vain enough to believe her.

"Let's get away from this damn' island," urged Cicero, glancing furtively back at the woods.

"Let's feed the Chink to the skunks first," suggested Scutari.

"Let's not!" emphatically replied Nick. "It's more important for us to eat, than for the skunks to."

"And I tell you," hastily added Theresa, "you take these awful things off my wrists, and I'll cook you up a beautiful cake for supper, or whatever time of day it is."

She smiled her sweetest on the already smitten gangster, who promptly removed the handcuffs.

"That's a fine idea of yours about the cake," said he, smirking, "but you just wait here a moment, my little cutie, until I go into the galley and give that dirty Chink a piece of my mind. I'll put the fear of God into him, so he'll never dare try to double cross me again."

And he swaggered aft to berate the cook.

* * * * *

As the Miami once more put to sea, with Fratelli at the wheel, the Greek at the engine and Charley and Theresa in the galley, the three others repaired to the bunk room.

"This is something like!" remarked Cicero to Swede and Friday. "Why, before, with that crowd on board, there wasn't room enough to swing a cat by the tail."

"Vy you vant to sving a cat by tail?" asked Swede.

"Just a little hobby of mine," replied Cicero. Then, half to himself: "Why not! That black Tabby cat has been our Jonah. Here goes. Come on, if you want to see some fun."

So saying, he rushed out on deck, followed by the other two. Tabby was peacefully sunning himself.

A moment later Theresa heard a frantic miaou; and, glancing out one of the galley portholes, saw her precious kitty, held by the end of its tail in one of Cicero's large hands, as he whirled the yowling feline round and round his head.

With a scream, the girl rushed on deck, but she was too late. As she flung herself upon Cicero Tony, he let go the tail, and the black cat, with a howl like the drone of a 75 mm. projectile, described a perfect parabola in the air and hit the water with a smack.

Swede, who had been in France in 1918, watched the spot for a moment and then remarked:

"A dud."

A second splash occurred where the cat had fallen. Some denizen of the deep had risen to the bait.

"Delayed fuse," murmured Swede.

"Oh, you beast, you beast," cried Theresa, pounding and clawing Cicero with her little fists, but Swede pulled her away and shook her, and sent her back to the galley in tears.

Then the three men returned to the bunk room, Swede remarking: "I tank it bad luck kill a cat."

"Worse luck to have a damn black cat aboard," growled Cicero.

Shortly thereafter Nick called Swede to take the wheel. Then he himself entered the galley.

Smirking at Terry, he said: "Well, my little sweetheart, how's the cake coming?"

"Gee, Mr. Fratelli," said the girl, with tears in her eyes, "won't you do something to that awful Dutchman? He threw Tabby overboard and a fish ate him."

"Ate who? Tony?"

"No. Tabby," replied Terry, smiling through her tears. "You're a big strong man, Mr. Fratelli. Won't you put Tony in irons or something, just to please me?"

"I'd do anything to please you, girlie," asserted Nick, "but you've got to be nice to me."

"Gee, Mr. Fratelli, but you're great!"

"Call me Nick."

"Gee, Nick, but you're great!"

He held out one hand tentatively toward her, but she edged shyly away, saying: "I've gotter finish the cake now. See you after supper."

So, with that promise in his ears, Fratelli went to the bunk room for a conference with Friday, the Eskimo.

* * * * *

The cake was a great success. All enjoyed the meal except Cicero, who, being in irons for the delectation of the queen and the gratification of Nick's pride of power, could hardly be expected to be very jovial. Terry particularly made up to the chief, who smirked and smiled and behaved quite unlike his usual morose self.

After the meal, as the girl started to enter her room, Nick remarked pointedly, with a wave of his hand toward the door: "The captain's cabin will be occupied by the new captain, from now on."

Terry was a bit taken aback for a moment, then smiled her sweetest on him and said: "I've got to help Charley with the dishes for a few moments. Wait for me in your cabin."

Then she and the Chinaman started clearing away the table. During the meal the boat had been permitted just to drift. Now Fratelli ordered Swede to man the wheel and Scutari to start up the engine again. The Eskimo, he directed to take Cicero to the bunk room. He himself began moving his belongings into his new quarters. He could scarcely wait for the dishwashing to be over.

As the last load of dishes were being carried to the galley, Charley Loy said quietly to his helper: "Velly bad. Velly bad. Makee tlubble for little girl."

"Oh, I'm all right," asserted Terry, with a toss of her head, "I asked that bum Fratelli to wait for me; and, believe me, he'll wait!"

The Miami was now skirting the shore of the mainland.

"Good-by, Charley," continued the girl. "You're a good scout, so I'll give you a bit of advice. When Nick gets tired of waiting, and asks you where I am, it would be wise for you to tell him that I went to his cabin. Savvy?"

The Oriental beamed on her.

"You velly blight girl," said he.

Meanwhile Nick Fratelli, at peace with the world, and very proud of himself as a gang leader and ladies' man, waited in his newly-acquired cabin. He waited with keen anticipation.

Then he waited with impatience. Then he waited with growing anger, and finally with suspicion.

At last he strode back to the galley. The dishwashing was completed. Charley Loy was industriously sweeping.

"Where's Terry?" roared Fratelli.

The Chinaman jumped, as though startled. Then turning his artless poker-face toward Nick, he said: "Little girl just left minute before. Say she go see her boy fliend now. Solly. Velly solly."

And he resumed his sweeping.

"Search the ship," bellowed Fratelli, rushing out of the kitchen.

Quickly he roused the rest of the crew. The ship was stopped, and all joined in the search. But at last it became quite evident that Miss Theresa Ferreira was no longer on board.

"Chief," whined Cicero, "you done me dirt. You put me in irons just to please that moll. I'm loyal to you. Won't you take them things off'n me?"

"Tony," replied Fratelli apologetically, "forgive me. But if I ever get my hands on that dirty little Portuguese gutter-snipe again, she'll pay for this! That's all I have to say."

"Well, chief," said Cicero vengefully, "it's a cinch you never will see her again, for by now she's et up by fishes, just like that cat was."

And he smiled reminiscently.

Nick looked sad.

"Poor little kid."

* * * * *

At that moment, many miles to the north of them, a pathetic feminine figure, clad in a wet and clinging male sailor suit, was bravely trudging northward along the beach. As she wearily stumbled through the sand, she was glad to be safe from Fratelli, but she was tired and thirsty, and utterly devoid of any plans.

Finally she sat down on a rock to rest, and as she gazed listlessly around her, her interest was aroused by a large black and white object, which the waves were carrying in toward shore. It seemed to be a black fish about ten feet long with a white belly, floating belly-up. But there was one unnatural feature about it, namely, a small round fuzzy black rosette, wiggling violently in the middle of the white expanse.

Momentarily forgetting her fatigue, the girl jumped up and ran down to the water's edge, where the dead "fish" was already bumping upon the pebbles. It was a porpoise-like reptile, an ichthyosaurus.

"Miaou," said the dead fish.

Theresa started backward in surprise, and at that moment the fussy object, protruding from the center of the fish's belly, gave a lurch, the white skin of the reptilian fish split the rest of the way, and Tabby followed its head out of the opening, stretching itself and arching its back.

"You darling kitty," exclaimed Terry, snatching it up and hugging it to her bosom, in spite of its slimy condition. "I thought you were gone forever! That mean old Cicero called you his Jonah, so you picked out a pocket-edition whale for yourself and got saved! It's a good joke on him."

She felt better instantly. Here was a companion for her. A few minutes later she lay stretched on the beach in the warm sun, while Tabby lay beside her, purring and lapping himself, and the dead ichthyosaurus bumped up and down forgotten on the pebbles.

When the cat at last considered himself presentable again, he arose languidly, stretched first his back and then one hind leg after the other, looked up at the girl and purred, and then trotted off into the woods which lined the beach. Theresa got up and followed.

Tabby led her promptly to a small spring, where they both drank copiously. Then, without a word of warning, the cat slipped quietly into the underbrush and disappeared.

A wave of loneliness suddenly engulfed the brave little girl. Slumping down beside the spring, she burst into tears. But after a while she dried her eyes. Perhaps Tabby would come back again.

He did. He returned dragging with him a funny dead animal as large as himself, which he laid proudly at his mistress's feet. Then he rubbed against her, purring loudly and ostentatiously.

The dead animal looked like an overgrown guinea pig, with long legs and a mule-like head and tail.

"Oh, Tabby dear," said the girl, "I can't eat raw bunny. Here, you take it, while I hunt for some berries."

The cat looked at her and at the rejected gift sadly and then started a repast on the carcass.

Theresa found a few small berries, but their taste was acrid and she mistrusted them. At last she came to a tree which bore orange-like fruit as large as pumpkins. She poked one off the tree with a pole, but was unable to lift it.

The skin smelled unmistakably like an orange, so she dug into the skin, and found it to be several inches thick. But the fruit skinned readily, and as readily divided into segments. In fact, it was exactly like an orange inside.

Peeling the thin transparent membrane off one of the segments, Theresa was soon regaling herself with the cells of luscious orange-colored and orange-flavored liquid which made up the interior of the segment, and which she plucked out and ate one by one.

Their meal over, she lay down, with Tabby snuggled close beside her, and soon was fast asleep.

But her sleep was not untroubled. Presently she dreamed that she was in a close and stuffy room. She opened her eyes to awake.

A fetid breath was blowing in her face. She looked up into the slavering jaws of a gigantic doglike head!