The Mystery Boys and Captain Kidd's Message

by Van Powell

  CHAPTER VII AN UNCANNY SUMMONS

  The spot where the _Treasure Belle_ came to anchor was just at thelowermost point of the archipelago of coral islets. The solid land whichhad Cape Sable for its most Southern tip had been passed and lay totheir left, while the first of the Keys was dimly visible as they lookedoff in the opposite direction.

  A council was being held on the decked-over top of the stuffy cabin. Samwas not there. He had taken the dinghy, with its glass bottom, and wasjust out of earshot toward the inner bay, fishing to secure theirmorning meal.

  “I have been thinking a great deal about our next course,” Mr. Nealestated. “One reason that I anchored just here is this: It is a deepenough channel between the mainland and the Key for us to navigate the_Belle_ without danger of grounding or running onto a coral ‘needle.’ Myintention has been to sail along the outer side of the archipelago; butI wonder, now, what you think of trying the inside channel, between themainland and the Keys.”

  “We’d miss the place where the wreck was marked, if we go the insideway,” objected Nicky.

  “True,” admitted the captain, “but, on the on the other hand, fellows,we would come to a point opposite where we think that should be, andwe’d work outward from the inner channel.”

  “But we’d miss the route we marked down, from memory, the way it was onour half of the map. That took in at least two of the Dipper islands,”Cliff reminded him.

  “Here is my reason for wanting to do something else,” Mr. Neale saidquietly. “If we go the outer way there may not be a safe anchorage incase of a storm. You will remember that the old galleon was supposed tohave been wrecked on ‘needles’ and I can assure you that those sharp,coral spikes are no pleasant thing to have under your hull in any seathat lifts the sloop and drops her down hard.”

  “I know another good reason,” Tom chimed in. “We don’t suspect Sam ofhaving anything to do with stealing our map—because he was hit on thehead and his map was taken——”

  “So he says!” corrected Nicky. “We haven’t any proof, and he’s the onlyone we can think of who would have had any reason——”

  “But we don’t actually suspect him,” Tom insisted. “He hasn’t made asuspicions move or done a wrong thing since we started out. But what Imeant to say was: We don’t suspect him, but we do know that somebody hasthe maps—both halves, probably.”

  “I see what you are driving at,” Cliff declared. “If somebody else isafter the treasure, we would be right in sight if we anchored in theouter place; and we’d be a sort of ‘marker’ for them.”

  “That was my idea, also,” said Mr. Neale. “And if Sam did have anythingto do with the loss of our map, a change in our plans may cause him tobetray some emotion. We can’t suspect him, but we can’t exonerate him,either.”

  “Not yet,” agreed Nicky, and Tom and Cliff shook their heads.

  “I vote for the inside channel,” Nicky added.

  “So do I!”

  “I do, too,” Cliff completed the vote.

  “Then, tomorrow, we will pilot the _Belle_ through by using the dinghyahead to look out for coral,” Mr. Neale said.

  “Let’s not mention it to Sam in the dark,” Nicky urged. “His face willshow his feelings better in the morning and we will surprise him.” Itwas agreed to take Nicky’s way.

  “Look—over there!” Tom said under his breath; he clutched Cliff’s arm,and pointed. They all turned.

  “Do you mean on that little Key—where the single tree is—that bluishlight!” Nicky demanded.

  “Yes! Isn’t it queer? See—Mr. Neale! It’s—it’s moving!”

  Tom’s clutch on Cliff’s arm tightened.

  On the small expanse of coral at some distance, countless years hadspread a thin upper covering of mold and dust until enough earth wasdeposited to support a small, stunted palm tree. As the four looked astrange, bluish radiance, seeming to be on the ground itself, showed thelower part of the tree trunk in relief against its faint glow.

  The light seemed to move about within a narrow radius.

  “It can hardly be phosphorus,” stated Mr. Neale, keeping his voice lowand his words calm to prevent any growth of superstitious fear.

  “What is it, then?” whispered Tom.

  “Sam may be over there,” Nicky gave the logical explanation. But as hespoke they heard the swish of Sam’s oar and the grate of the dinghycoming alongside on the port side.

  “Don’t say a word,” cautioned Cliff. “See if he mentions it.”

  Sam did mention the light, and at once!

  “I don’t like that, sar,” he said to Mr. Neale, as he paid out thedinghy line and looped it over a stern cleat of the sloop. “I tell you,sar, I was educated not to believe in ghosts, sar, but we are right inthe place where all the pirates hid gold and laid in wait for ships. Ifnot the English and Spanish and French, then the Bahama buccaneers andthe ones that started up their trade from Cuba before they were wipedout for all time.”

  “Nonsense!” said Mr. Neale, rather sharply. “Pull up that dinghy, Nicky.Want to come along? We’ll see what it’s all about, eh?”

  “No, sar—don’t you!” exclaimed Sam.

  Tom also whispered to Nicky. The latter, rather surprised at hisformerly cool chum, who had kept his head admirably during theiradventures among the Incas, was about to make a retort that would shameTom, but he shut his lips, for once controlling his impulses.

  “There is nothing to fear,” declared the captain and Nicky echoed hiswords stoutly, as did Cliff. Nicky and Mr. Neale rowed away.

  It was a short row to the islet, although they proceeded slowly becauseof the darkness and the proximity of coral under the water. The lightdisappeared before they reached the island. They could see quite plainlyin the starlight that there was nothing on the small coral Key exceptthe palm tree.

  “Strange,” observed Mr. Neale.

  “Maybe it was just some odd reflection of light from a star on thecoral,” Nicky said. “Only—it moved!”

  “Perhaps our imagination helped,” Mr. Neale said, and that was theexplanation he insisted upon when they returned to the _Treasure Belle_.The others accepted it, Cliff calmly, Tom rather silently. Only Samobjected.

  “No star, sar!” he declared. “We would still see the light—and no staris blue. But——”

  He drew closer to the little riding light which was on the mast andwhich they used as their only illumination that evening. “Back in myisland there is a story, sar, that when a treasure is in danger ghostsappear to scare people away and when a treasure is not being guarded byghosts there is a light hovering over the spot where it is buried!”

  “Well, that is great!” declared Nicky eagerly. “All we have to do thenis to go there tomorrow and get the treasure!”

  Although neither Tom nor Sam fully agreed that there was nothing tomenace their personal welfare, they retired with the others. Sam curledup, as usual, in the cockpit, and the three chums laid themselves on theroof of the cabin, on blankets, their air pillows inflated and undertheir heads.

  They did not discuss the matter of the light. It did not appear againand Nicky and Cliff dropped off to sleep. Tom, lying awake, battlingwith himself mentally, trying to make his common sense defeat hisinstinctive apprehension, started and almost thrust Cliff over the lowrail with the violence of his motion.

  From somewhere about the hull of their sloop came three distinct taps!Rap! Rap! Rap!

  “What was that?” whispered Tom.

  Mr. Neale, seated near the tiller, half dozing, answered, as Cliff andNicky stirred and came awake.

  “Probably drifting wood or possibly we are almost on a coral reef—or theanchor cable may have rubbed and made the noise. There is not athing!——”

  “Look!” gasped Nicky—“Look! In the water! Light—bluish light, movingaway.”

  Everyone was fully awake and staring in every direction. Cliff locatedNicky’s indicating finger, followed the di
rection, saw a swirl ofphosphorescence in the water.

  “Maybe a shark!” he declared, “a shark came up to investigate us,looking for food, I’ll bet!”

  “That was it!” declared Mr. Neale. “Go back to sleep.”

  “There’s the light again!” Tom quavered. Even Cliff and Nicky feltchilling prickles run up and down their spines at Tom’s tone. Sam lookedand slumped down, hiding his face in the cockpit.

  “Hit’s—hit’s—ghos’es!” he shuddered, forgetting his educated diction inhis terror.

  “Mr. Neale, let’s go and see—” begged Nicky.

  “Let me go too?” urged Cliff, “Nicky went last time.”

  “Wait till mornin’—please, sar, wait!” pleaded Sam. “Doan’ leave us herefor the ghos’es to git us, sar!”

  “Now—right now, we go!” stated Nicky. “We’ll settle this thing once andfor all. If you aren’t strong enough to fight off a ghost, Sam, I’msorry for you.”

  He had the dinghy alongside. Cliff and Mr. Neale clambered in and heldthe rail of the sloop until Nicky slipped into the dinghy’s bow. Tom,knowing the small boat had its full complement of passengers, andrealizing that his own timidity had made him an enforced companion of aterrified Negro on the sloop, strove to drive away his fear.

  “Can you whistle, sar?” urged Sam. “Dey says whistlin’ keeps offghos’es!”

  “Then you try, too,” ordered Tom.

  Both puckered their lips and essayed a shrill whistle. It came out eacha quavery, hissing failure that the ones in the boat, pushing away fromthe sloop, peered and chuckled.

  “Get yourself a tin whistle,” laughed Cliff, and even Tom had to chuckleat his own tremulous muscles.

  It seemed as though the dinghy was away a long time; the queer lightshone for awhile but suddenly vanished.

  After a wait there came a hail.

  “What do you think we found?” called Nicky, excitedly.

  Tom couldn’t guess. When they all assembled and the riding lantern washauled down to show their discovery better, Tom gasped.

  “Right where the light had been, we found this!” stated Nicky, showing arusted, broken and almost completely disintegrated old can, such asvegetables are preserved in. From it he drew an old, torn slip of somesort of thin leather or parchment. Time seemed to have eaten into it, orelse the washing of the water had rotted it.

  Nevertheless, faint, distinguishable marks were on it.

  “Why, it’s a message or something!” exclaimed Tom.

  “Dat’s what the light was for,” said Sam, his teeth chattering. “Itmarked where the can was, sars.”

  “Well, it did us a good turn,” Nicky stated joyfully. “Read it, willyou, Mr. Neale?”

  Their captain put the parchment very close to the light.

  They almost held their breath, waiting in a thrill of eagerness.

  “I declare!” he cried, “it looks as old as the can—and yet—and yet—thisis a message to us!”

  “It is?” shouted Nicky.

  “Listen!” He bent closer, holding the dim lettering almost against thelantern globe.

  “This is what it says. ‘Treasure—found—long ago. Dig under tallest ofthree trees on Crocodile Key in Card Bay for more!”

  “Hooray!” Nicky exulted, “one treasure gone and another to be found!”

  “Where did it come from?” Cliff asked. “I know how we found it, but Imean, how did it get there?”

  “Maybe it was left here for some buccaneers who knew about the othertreasure,” Tom hazarded a guess.

  “I know the answer,” Nicky cried, “this isn’t meant for us. There mayhave been a treasure hidden on that key; somebody got it and either tookit where this says, or else knew of another one and left this word forthe ones who would come for the original one.”

  “But—the light!—” began Tom.

  “Well,” laughed Nicky, “if ghosts want to be as friendly as to light abeacon, I’m their friend! Thank you, ghosties!”

  “Sh-h-h!” whispered Sam. “Please, sar—don’t!”

  “But they did us a favor,” said Nicky. “They gave us a much better‘lead’ than the one we had. I say it again.”

  He faced the little key and cupping his hands, sent out a hail.

  “Ghosties—thank you!”

  Even Nicky was electrified in the next instant.

  From somewhere—they could not say where—came a sephulchral, gurglinganswer.

  “You—welcome!”