The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam Part 19

"Vell, it don't be goodt to get ridt of him righdt now. Better bring him aboard the boat."

"All right, cap. Come on, you young sneak!" said the man known as Mike.

He gave Rob's arm a vicious twist, and with one of the men on either side of him, and Berghoff walking close behind with the revolver, there was no recourse for Rob but to accept the situation as it came. But in mind he was casting about desperately for a means of escape. None had occurred to him by the time they reached the motor boat, which was moored at a tumble-down wharf, or jetty.

The motor boat proved to be a sixty-foot affair, with a cabin amids.h.i.+ps.

Into this Rob was gruffly ordered.

"Get aboard now, and look slippy about it," was Mike's way of urging the Boy Scout on board the craft.

Rob obeyed the order with a sinking heart Things looked about as black as they could be, so even his optimistic nature was compelled to admit.

CHAPTER XX.

ON BOARD A STRANGE CRAFT.

Once inside the main cabin Rob was thrust into a small stateroom opening off the larger apartment. He heard the lock click as the door was slammed to, and knew that he was a prisoner.

It was dark inside the cabin, but by feeling about he discovered a bunk on one side of the place. Critical as his situation was, the boy was so tired that he flung himself down on this, and, before long, while still pondering his quandary, he sank into a deep slumber.

When he awakened it was broad daylight. By the motion of the craft Rob knew that she was at sea. Getting up from the bunk he peered out of the small porthole of the stateroom. Outside nothing but the ocean was to be seen. Of course the boy had not the slightest idea where they were, or how long the boat had been running.

All he did know was that he was a prisoner, ravenously hungry, achingly thirsty and almost f.a.gged out. His slumbers had been uneasy and had not refreshed him.

Outside he could hear voices in the larger cabin. Crawling to the keyhole he listened intently. Berghoff was talking. Rob heard enough to convince him that the plans of the band had been changed.

"There vill be a big hue undt cry ven dey findt oudt der boy is gone,"

declared Berghoff. "We must findt some place where we can stop till der excitement dies out."

"That's right, cap," agreed one of his companions, "but where can we go?"

"There are plenty of small islands further down the coast. One of those would suit our purpose," struck in another voice, which Rob recognized as that of the pallid-faced Gyp.

"Dot's a good idea," agreed Berghoff; "gedt out der chart and look one up."

The voice sank into inaudibility and Rob threw himself back on the bunk.

At least he knew now what to expect, isolation and captivity with three desperate men. It would be wrong to say the lad was frightened. Possibly the very nature of his predicament had dulled his brain, as is sometimes the case.

"I wonder if they are looking for me now?" he mused, and with the thought came a glad realization that Merritt knew of the signals from the island and would inform the ensign of them.

"If they only follow me up quickly, maybe they can overtake this craft,"

he said to himself, "although she's a fast one."

At this juncture of Rob's cogitations the door was thrust open and Gyp entered with some food and water.

He placed them on the floor and started to leave the room in sullen silence, when Rob stopped him.

"What are you going to do with me?" he demanded.

"Don't ask no questions and you'll get told no lies," growled the man, slamming the door and relocking it on the outside.

"Well," thought Rob, "it's plain that I'm to be kept in the dark as to my fate. Well, it's no use worrying. I'll tackle this food and take a good long drink of water and then see if I can come to any conclusion."

The meal brightened Rob up wonderfully. After eating it he sat on the edge of the bunk casting about for something to keep his mind off his troubles, when he suddenly recollected the mysterious cipher found on the _Good Hope_.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled it out and began figuring with the stump of a pencil on the back of an old envelope. But ingenious as he was, he found it hard to decipher. He tried half a dozen well-known systems on it and was about to give up in despair when he recalled the "Letter" method of reading cryptic numeral ciphers.

This system requires the operator to figure out the recurrence of different numerals and the order in which they appear. Rob noticed that the number 5 occurred most frequently. Now E is the most used letter in any bit of English writing, so the lad set down 5 as answering for E.

After this he figured industriously till he had managed to make something like sense out of the first paragraph of the old writing.

It would be wearisome to take the matter step by step in all its details. Suffice it to say, therefore, that Rob found that he had hit on a correct system and at the end of two hours had the following message before him.

"It is buried twenty-four paces from dead cypress and to the west. The island lies in long. 80 degrees 50 minutes and lat. 33 degrees 24 minutes. To whoever finds this and reads it, I will the ivory. Death is close to me now. Good bye to all."

When his task had been completed, Rob sat gazing at the paper before him. Unquestionably it gave the location of the dead whaler's cache. For an instant the boy thought, with a thrill, that he was within reach of a fortune. But the next moment he recalled where he was, which, in the interest of his task, he had forgotten. Then, too, he remembered that the dead man's two companions who marooned him on his own s.h.i.+p had probably carried out their intention of returning and carrying off the precious h.o.a.rd.

"So that's all of that," mused the boy, "but just the same, if I ever get out of this sc.r.a.pe, I mean to hunt up that island and see if I can locate the fate of those mammoth tusks."

All day the boat moved swiftly along, and it was not till the following morning that anchor was dropped, as Rob knew by feeling the motion of the craft stopped, and by hearing the rattle of the anchor chain.

"I wonder what is going to happen to me now?" he mused.

He had not long to wait.

"Come out on deck and help us row the dinghy ash.o.r.e," Gyp muttered as he unlocked the door.

Heartily glad to get out of his cramped quarters, Rob obeyed.

Coming on deck he found Berghoff and Mike already there. The former had a formidable-looking revolver strapped on him. The boat was lying off a small, sandy island, isolated from the others, in one of the groups that are common on that part of the coast.

It was wooded and appeared to be a fine spot for Berghoff's purpose of remaining in seclusion till Rob's friends gave him up for lost, and the mystery of his capture blew over.

The dinghy, which hung on the davits astern, was lowered, and Rob roughly told to "pile in and row us ash.o.r.e." He obeyed the order, noticing that in the boat were tent and camping supplies. Evidently these had been placed in it before he was called on deck.

His heart sank as he observed these preparations for an extended stay on the lonely island. Once ash.o.r.e, he was forced to help in putting up the tent, building a fire and doing other jobs to make the camp habitable.

Then, without food, he was set to chopping wood. After a hasty meal, Berghoff disappeared, leaving Rob guarded by Gyp and Mike, who lay at full length smoking lazily while he worked.

When Berghoff returned he announced that there was no trace of humanity on the island. With this statement vanished Rob's last hope of help. He had nourished a secret aspiration that there might be some campers or fishermen living on the place.

When the sun set that night Rob's feelings were down to zero. The very fact that he was not closely watched seemed to prove to him the utter impossibility of his escaping. True, there was the boat, but that had been drawn up on the beach by his wily captors so that it would be impossible for him to move it without attracting their attention.