CHAPTER XV.--WHAT HAPPENED ASHORE.
As Ben had surmised, Duval had waited till the boys and their friendswere sound asleep, and had then, in accordance with a plan he hadthought of the instant he set eyes on his kind-hearted friend, sneakedout of his bunk and, tip-toeing softly to Ben's clothes, located thewallet and with small trouble or loss of time abstracted the plan of thelost wreck. During the evening the ingrate had heard a description ofthe island given to Mr. Sterrett by Dr. Perkins, so that after takingthe plan he left the hut and made for the beach by the path through thewoods.
Shoving off the skiff, he had taken up the oars and started rowing asfast as he could for the mainland. But what with the darkness and hisunfamiliarity with that part of the coast, he had failed to land in thecove adjoining the fisher village of Motthaven, and had beached hiscraft a considerable distance to the south of the place. It was justgrowing light when the bow of the skiff grated on the sand, and Duvalhastily scrambled out and started off. His object was to find a railroadstation and travel as far as his scant supply of money would take himfrom the vicinity of Brig Island.
After that his plans were still vague; but he had an indefinite idea ofgetting to New York or some large town, and interesting anybody withcapital to finance an expedition for the recovery of the gold dust chestand the bag of black pearls that lay at the bottom of the Black Bayouamid the moldering timbers of the lost steamer. The utter depravity andblack-heartedness of this plan, and his base ingratitude to the man whohad aided him in every way, did not strike him. Instead, there was butone over-mastering thought in his mind, and that was to secure whatevertreasure might be in the wreck as quickly as possible, and then vanishfrom America for some foreign country with his ill-gotten wealth.
Busy with such thoughts as these, he hastened up the beach in the grayof the dawn, and finding a rough sort of path leading up the low cliffthat overhung the beach, he started to ascend it. He had not gone morethan a few paces, however, before he saw, buried back in some trees, arough-looking hut.
Duval was hungry and thirsty, and, moreover, his long row, at such afeverish pace, had exhausted him. Determining to tell a story that wouldaccount for his presence in that isolated part of the coast at such anearly hour, he made up his mind to apply at the hut for somerefreshment. His story was to be that he had set off on a fishingexpedition and had lost his way and been wandering all night.
"Probably only some fool fisherman lives there who will believe anythingI choose to tell him," he thought; "these fellows are all as thick asmud, anyhow."
Musing to himself in this fashion, the renegade fellow made his waytoward the hut and, coming to the door, knocked loudly on it. But therewas no answer, and when, after repeated knockings, he could elicit noresponse, Duval determined that, as there appeared to be nobody at home,he would walk in uninvited and see what he could "forage" for himself.
The door was unlocked; in fact, it had no latch and hung crazily on itsrusty hinges. Opening it, Duval found himself in an interior as roughand uncouth as the outside of the hut had promised. A table made of oldplanks, seemingly flotsam from the beach, two soap boxes for chairs, anda rough sort of bunk, or rather shelf, littered with a pile of dirty oldblankets, made up the furnishings. On the table were the remains of ameal, which had consisted apparently of roasted lobsters and fish. Twotin cups and tin plates, with battered knives and forks beside them,completed the table service.
"Confound it all," muttered Duval, "whoever lives here is as poor as achurch mouse. Some miserable fisherman, I suppose, who has hardly enoughto keep body and soul together."
He walked to a corner of the shack where there was a sort of cupboardcontrived out of old boxes. He had guessed that this formed the pantryof the establishment. Sure enough, in it he found a loaf half consumed,and the remains of a roasted lobster, as well as some scraps of fish. Hewas too hungry to be particular and was just about to start eating whena quick step behind him caused him to start violently, dropping the foodhe had in his hand.
But before he could utter a word the young man--or, rather, loutishboy--who had entered so quietly, owing to his being barefooted, steppedup to him and, raising a heavy oar he carried, dealt the intruder a blowthat deprived him of his senses for the time being.
As Duval fell to the floor a man in rough fisherman's garb, with awrinkled, mahogany-tinged face and a tuft of gray whisker on hisprominent chin, entered.
"Why, Zeb, what's up?" he exclaimed, in an astonished voice.
"I found this feller snoopin' about in here, pop," was the rejoinder,"an' I calkelated ter lay him out till we could find out what hisbusiness was."
"Good ernuff, boy," responded the elder Daniels, for most of our readersmust be aware by this time of the identity of the two newcomers; "butwho do yer suppose he is? He's dressed like one of them fancy sailorsoff'n a yacht."
"Dad, I figger he's a detective sent here by them kids on Brig Island.That's the way it looks to me."
"I guess you're right, Zeb. Here, give me a hand to get him up on thebunk. By hickory, but you must have hit him a clip."
"Reckon I did land kind er hard on him, dad, but I wasn't takin' chancesof his turning on me."
The two worthies lifted Duval's limp form and laid it, not over-gently,on the tumbled pile of frowsy blankets. This done, a sudden thoughtstruck the elder Daniels.
"Calkerlate I'll take a look through his pockets," he said; "mightrummage out something worth havin'."
Zeb helped his father in this task; but aside from a small sum of money,and a collection of worthless odds and ends, they found nothing thatappeared to them to be of importance. In an inner pocket Zeb came acrossthe stolen map. Much mystified, he showed it to his father.
"What do you think this kin be, pop?" he inquired.
The old man took it and knitted his brow over the document in a puzzledfashion.
"By hickory, I kain't make it out," he confessed; "thar's some riting inther corner, though. Spell it out, Zeb."
Zeb, obediently, but somewhat laboriously, read out:
"'Map of the location of the wreck of the _Belle of New Orleans_.'That's what it says; but what does it mean?"
"That's plain enough, ain't it?" retorted the old man. "It's a map ofsome wreck or other, but what does this feller want with it? That's thequestion."
"Better ask him. He's opening his eyes and coming to."
Sure enough Duval stirred uneasily, and threw up his hand as if to wardoff a blow.
"Don't hit me, Frank Chester," he cried out; "I'll give back the plan Istole."
"Oh-ho! That's the way the wind blows, is it?" muttered the elderDaniels, and then, addressing Duval, who was now staring wildly abouthim, he said:
"So you come from Brig Island, eh, my hearty?"
"Yes; but how did I get here? Oh, I remember now. I was looking for foodand somebody struck me."
"That was me, I reckon," grinned Zeb, "who are you, anyhow? Did thosekids on Brig Island send you here after us?"
What with the effects of his blow, and his alarm at his position, Duvallost his customary caution.
"I'm no friend of anybody on Brig Island," he exclaimed, "but what doyou know about that place, anyhow?"
"A whole lot," grimly rejoined the elder Daniels; "now, see here, mylad, you'd best make a clean breast of it. How did you come by thisplan?"
The old fisherman, who was pretty keen-minded, had guessed by Duval'sguilty manner that there was some mystery connected with the documentwhich he now flourished.
Duval sat up on the bunk and pleaded for the return of the plan; but tono avail.
"I'm smart enough to see through a wall when there's a hole in it," saidold Daniels; "now, see here, I reckon you ain't no friend of them kidson the island?"
Duval shook his head. He had, of course, no reason to dislike the boys;but he was an arrant coward at heart, and saw that the men in whosepower he was, hated the young dwellers on Brig Island. He thereforethought it good policy to affect to be of their way of thinki
ng.
"I'm no friend of theirs," he said, rather sullenly, "but what's that toyou?"
"May be a whole lot, if this plan is what I think it is. Now I've apretty good idea that you come by it in no very honest way. Ain't thatso?"
"I--I was given it," stammered Duval uneasily, while Zenas' littlegimlet-like gray eyes bored him through.
"That's a lie," rejoined Daniels easily; "come on, out with the truth,now. It won't do you no harm, and may keep you from the constables."
This was a shrewd move on Daniels' part. Duval's eyes dilated with fearat the idea of coming within the reach of the law. Without more ado heblurted out part of the story of the lost _Belle of New Orleans_, andoffered to let Zenas share in the prize if he should locate it. WhileDuval was talking the elder Daniels had leaned forward, consumed withinterest. Avaricious to a degree, the thought of the sunken treasuremade him fairly burn with desire to gain it.
"You're sure that was a true story that feller give you?" he asked, asDuval concluded his story.
"I'm certain of it. I know for a fact that my father had a lot of golddust and those black pearls with him on his last voyage, for he hadwritten home about the fortune that he was bringing."
"Humph! Waal, your story sounds all right, and I don't know but whatyou've come to the right shop to get some one to help you get at thewreck. I've got a diving outfit and a little money, and I kin raise somemore. Now sit down and Zeb will get you a bite to eat, and we'll talkthings over."
And thus was begun an alliance which was to prove a source of muchtrouble to the Boy Aviators and their friends in the near future.