As Nat was feeling drowsy again, doubtless owing to the far-reachinginfluence of Israel Harley’s opiate, he was nothing loath to accept thisproposition, and turned in and was speedily in the land of dreams. Whenthe captain awakened him he felt that the last traces of the drug hadvanished, and his senses were as clear as a bell. The sun was high andthe sea smooth and sparkling. Nat had some coffee and rolls and thenjoined the captain on deck. He gazed anxiously toward Santa Barbara,eager to catch the first glimpse of the _Nomad_.
Near by the Lightship several triangular fins were cruising about.
“Sharks!” cried Nat, and recalled with a shudder his terrible experiencewith these tigers of the sea when he was cast adrift in a sinking boatin mid-Pacific.
“So they be. Thar’s lots of them hereabouts,” said the captain, “butLor’ bless yer, they’re only little fellows. Very different to thefellers that attacked me when the _Sarah Jane Braithwaite_ was downamong the Andaman Islands. Like to hear the yarn?”
“Why, yes,” said Nat, and added with a smile, “I’ve got a yarn of my ownabout them, too.”
“Waal,” began the skipper, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke as he withdrewhis blackened old briar pipe from his mouth, “it was a good many yearsago but I had a wooden pin even at that time, for d’ye see my port mainbrace was taken off when a spar fell on me during a typhoon in theYaller Sea.
“But, to get to ther particlar day I’m talking of. We was becalmed amongthe Andamans. A dead flat calm with the pitch boiling in the seams, andthere we lay under the broiling sun as ‘idle as a painted ship upon apainted ocean’, as the poet says. My first mate proposed to me that weshould take a swim. Now, although I’m minus one of my spars, I’m a rightsmart swimmer, and I agreed.
“We had a fine time sporting round thar in the cool water, but suddenlysomebody on deck hollers, ‘Sharks!’
“Now that’s a hail you want to act quick on, and you take myalfired-davy on it that we made good time getting back to the ship’sside. But just as we reached it, what d’ye suppose?”
“A shark got you?” demanded Nat.
“No, he didn’t get me, but he got my wooden leg. Yes, sir, bit it rightoff where it was strapped on. Took it off whole and entire. Waal, theyhoisted me on deck and the carpenter rigged up a jury spar for me and Imade out all right, although not so comfortable as I was with my oldone.
“The next day it was still flat calm, and I was leaning over the railwhistling for a wind, when what should I see but the most caterwampusdisturbance in the water a short distance away. The thing that wasmaking it, whatever it was, was coming toward the ship, and it didn’ttake me long to make out that it was a shark.
“But I never saw a shark act like that before or since. First it wouldjump out of the water like a trout and then come sploshing down againwith a thump that sent the spray scattering for yards in all directions.Then it would roll over and over and snort and plunge and wrastle aboutlike all possessed.
“I calls my mate over and points it out to him, and by this time all themen was leaning over the bulwarks watching the critter. It came nearerand nearer and I thought I cotched it looking at me with a sort ofreproachful look, if you can imagine a fish looking that way.
“‘Bill,’ says I to the mate, ‘get a shark line,’ we carried them inthose latitudes, ‘bait it up with a bit of fat pork and we’ll find outwhat ails that critter.’
“‘Acts to me like it’s got a tummy ache,’ says Bill, as he goes below toget the tackle, ‘maybe it’s been a-eatin’ of green sea apples.’
“Waal, we chucks the line over, an’ afore long the shark bolts the porkwhole and the hook gets embedded in his jaw and we haul him on board.Waal, sir,” and here the weather-beaten old seaman looked very hard athis young listener, “would you believe me when I tells you that what hadbeen making that shark act so scandolus was my wooden leg?”
“Your wooden leg?” asked Nat seriously.
“Yes, sir, my wooden leg. You see, that shark was the same as bit off myport spar, and the blooming thing had wedged itself right across itsgullet. It’s a wonder it hadn’t choked to death. It couldn’t swallownothing and that was why it was cutting up such didos.”
“It couldn’t swallow anything, captain?” asked Nat solemnly.
“No, sir; not a solitary morsel,” rejoined the captain, wagging hishead.
“Then how did it take the bait?” asked Nat, fairly bursting intolaughter. But the captain never smiled.
“I reckon that was one of the inscrutable ways of Providence to help meget my leg back,” he said. “See here,” he held up the wooden leg forinspection, “see those marks? Those were made by shark’s teeth—yes,siree, it was sure a terrible experience.”
“Well,” chuckled Nat, “I don’t want to doubt your word, captain, but Iguess that yarn is about what the Andaman shark found your leg,—hard toswallow!”
The captain looked as if he meant to defend his story, but Nat cut himshort with a joyful cry:
“Here comes the _Nomad_! Hooray!”
And the _Nomad_ it was, and a few minutes later there was a reunion ofthe Motor Rangers that made the old captain chuckle and stamp hisshark-marked leg and yell:
“Bully for you, boys! You sure ought to be glad to see yer messmateagain. He’s a boy to be proud of.”
Not long after, the _Nomad_ with her crew of three, for Dr. Chalmers,Mr. Anderson and Nate, and Prof. Jenkins had been left ashore—the latterin a hospital,—headed for Santa Barbara. For some days thereafter,during which the professor rapidly regained health, they awaitedanxiously for news of Minory, but none came.
A visit to the cave by the authorities, guided by Nat, resulted in theirfinding that “the birds had flown,” doubtless immediately after Nat’sescape was discovered. They also found a door in the floor which hadbeen hidden by boxes when Nat was in the cave. This door led to a flightof steps, which in turn led to a passage, which, on being followed, wasfound to open in a rift in the cliffs. To any active person it wouldhave been an easy matter to gain the top, and this doubtless was the wayMinory escaped. But, although for the present all trace of both theHarleys and Minory appeared to be lost the boys were destined to hearfrom them again and that at no very distant time.
CHAPTER XVIII.
JOE RECEIVES VISITORS.
It was some days later that Joe was sitting alone in the station onWireless Island, as the boys had come to re-christen their temporaryabiding place. Nat was ashore helping Ding-dong construct a wirelessplant on his own place, as the Bell boy, whose father was a well-to-dobusiness man, needed his son to help him in stock-taking, an operationwhich would take some time. Ding-dong didn’t much relish the idea ofbeing cut off from his chums entirely for even that length of time, soit had been decided to put up a light-powered plant at his place, thathe might be in touch with Nat and Joe whenever he or they desired.
Nat was not to be back till night-fall when he would bring with him NateSpencer, the owner of the destroyed _Albicore_, to help cook and makehimself handy around the place. Nate had not yet bought another boat andjumped at the chance of spending a short time on the island.
Joe was reading a book dealing with the wonders of wireless when aquick, sharp step on the gravel outside the hut aroused his attention.
“Now, who in the world can that be?” he exclaimed half aloud.
He rose from his chair to go to the door, but before he reached it twomen blocked the entrance. Both were strangers to him and Joe did notmuch care for their looks.
“Hey, kid, who’s in charge around here?” demanded one of them, a rough,unshaved customer with a red face and shifty eyes. His companion wasfurtive-faced and had little blinky, red-rimmed eyes like a ferret’s. Hesuggested a man who was always on the lookout for something.
“Yes, who’s the boss?” came from this second individual.
“I am just at present,” rejoined Joe; “what do you want?”
“We want to s
end a message,” was the gruff rejoinder, “and dern quick,too.”
“We don’t handle any commercial business,” replied Joe; “this is aprivate plant.”
“Oh, we know all about that. That’s just the reason we took the troubleto get a boat and come here,” was the reply.
“Yes, our business is private and confidential, and we don’t want nonosy operator at a public station ashore to know nothing about it,”supplemented the ferret-eyed man.
“Where do you want to send the message?” asked Joe, who by no meansliked the situation. The men spoke in a dictatorial, bullying sort ofway and appeared prepared to enforce their wishes by violence if noother way offered. Joe had no weapon on him, and the only revolver onthe island was in Nat’s trunk.
In reply to Joe’s question, the red-faced individual pointed seaward.
“You mean you want to send a message to a ship?”
“Yes, a message in cipher.”
Joe shook his head.
“If it had been some really urgent matter I might have helped you out,but as it is, I’m afraid I can’t do anything. You’d better try one ofthe stations ashore.”
The red-faced man scowled; but an instant later he assumed what wasmeant to be an ingratiating manner. He drew out a wallet and tapped itmeaningly.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he said.
“Sorry, but I can’t do it,” was Joe’s rejoinder.
“I’ll make it right with you, kid,” urged the other.
“Nothing doing,” said Joe firmly. “Sorry you’ve had this trip out herefor nothing, but you’ll have to go back again if you want to send acipher message to any ship.”
The ferret-eyed man came close to his companion.
“Bill, you do it yourself,” he whispered, but not so low that Joe didn’thear him.
“Oh, I’m too rusty. Haven’t tapped a key since I was fired for sellinginformation on that Wall Street pool.”
“Oh, you can do it all right enough,” insisted the other.
“Well, if the kid won’t do it, I guess I’ll have to try,” was the reply,and the two men started out of the shanty and walked toward the wirelesshut.
“Hold on there!” cried Joe, springing forward and laying a detaininghand on one man’s arm. “I can’t allow any interference with theapparatus yonder.”
The red-faced man whipped round like a shot.
“Can’t, eh?” he sneered. “I’d like to see you stop me. Ed, grab him!”
The ferret-eyed man seized Joe and pinioned his arms before the boy hada chance to resist.
“There, that’ll be about all from you, my rooster,” grinned thered-faced man. “Bring him along, Ed, we may need him.”
Struggling in the man’s grasp, Joe was dragged to the wireless hut. Inone corner of the structure was a closet with a stout oak door in whichsome of the valuable parts of the plant were locked up when the islandwas left for any considerable period. The door had a strong padlock and,having thrust Joe inside, the men banged the door and snapped thepadlock. The door had a small slit in it, which was lucky, or Joe mighthave suffocated in the stuffy place. Through this slit he wrathfullywatched the men as they went up to the table on which the apparatus wasadjusted.
The red-faced man inspected it a bit dubiously.
“I’m all right pounding brass on the regular key and I know a bit ofwireless, although I hadn’t learned very much when I was canned for thatdeal you know about.”
“Oh, you can work it all right,” his companion assured him.
He drew out a paper and handed it to the ex-operator.
“Here’s the cipher code and the message. Now get busy and tap it out andthen we can vamoose.”
Joe was entirely powerless to aid himself. The door was thick and strongand there was no possibility of his being able to open it; and, even hadhe been able to, it wouldn’t have done any good. His captors were burly,strong men and looked vicious to a degree, and had he managed to get outthey would assuredly have given him rough treatment. No; there wasnothing for it but to remain quiet and be keenly alert to what was goingforward in the room outside.
The red-faced man sat down to the key and at first fiddled clumsily withit. But he soon acquired confidence and then began to flash out hismessage. By listening Joe readily learned that he was trying to raisethe steamer _Vesta_ from San Diego for Vancouver, Canada. After a longinterval Joe saw a grin of satisfaction come over the man’s face.
“He’s raised her,” thought Joe, and he was correct in his conjecture.Flash-crackle-bang! went the spark, and Joe by close listening heard theman instruct the operator on the _Vesta_ to deliver a message to a mannamed Albert Carter. Then followed a jumble of code words utterlymeaningless to Joe.
The sender repeated his message and then rose from the table.
“Well, I’ve done the best I can,” he said, “and I guess it’s all right.”
“Sure it is. Anyhow, he can’t kick. You’ve done what you could to helpout a pal.”
“Let’s be getting along, then. I’ve no fancy for sticking around here.”
“What about him?”
The ferret-eyed man nodded his head in the direction of the closet whereJoe was confined.
“Leave him where he is. We want a start, don’t we? Some one will bealong and let him out, I guess.”
“Well, so long, sonny,” cried the ferret-eyed man with a chuckling laughthat made Joe’s blood boil, “much obliged for the accommodation.”
“You’ll get in trouble over this,” roared out Joe furiously, “you see ifyou don’t.”
“Oh, I guess not,” said the man who had sent the message, with a coarselaugh. “Well, shake a day-day, kid. You might have made some money andhave saved me the bother of showing you that I could work your wirelesswithout your aid.”
Joe knew it would be useless to reply, so he bottled up the vials of hiswrath and remained silent. The men left the hut and no doubt made theirway back to their boat in which they had come from the mainland.
“Well, of all the nerve,” sputtered Joe in his prison. “If that isn’tthe limit! There’s something mighty crooked about all this,” he went onto himself. “They got word to some one on board that ship bound forCanada, and the trouble they took to do it shows that there is somethingmighty suspicious about the whole affair.”
He went on thinking—there was nothing else to do,—and racked his brainto recollect what he could of the message. But this wasn’t much, for ofcourse the code words were as meaningless as Greek to him.
“I do wish I could figure out what it was,” he said to himself, “if onlyI could and get word to that ship about the manner in which the messagewas sent, I might be the means of preventing some grave wrong being doneto somebody; for I am sure those men are no good. You could tell that bytheir faces, let alone their actions. Hello!”
Joe stared through the slit in the door at the entrance to the wirelesshut. It had been suddenly darkened by the figure of a man.
“Anybody around here?” came a voice.
“Yes, I’m here,” cried Joe eagerly, for he knew by the voice that it wasneither of the men who had treated him so roughly.
“Where the dickens are you?” came the natural inquiry.
“Here in the closet.”
“Well, what in Sam Hill!——”
The figure came forward and Joe almost dropped with surprise right thereand then. He had good reason.
The newcomer was Hank Harley, old Israel’s nephew. It certainly was anafternoon of surprises for Joe.
CHAPTER XIX.
AND ALSO GETS A SURPRISE.
“Let me out of here,” cried Joe, rattling the door.
He felt that his liberty came first and that the time for questioningHank would come later.
“Sure, I’ll let you out,” responded Hank, “but how under the sun did youget in there?”
“I was shoved in here and then the door was locked.”
“Who by?”
“Let me out first. I’ll tell you that later.”
“All right. The key is in the padlock. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
Hank’s behavior puzzled Joe. He did not appear to be belligerent orthreatening. On the contrary, he seemed to be only too anxious to do agood turn to another youth in distress.
“Well, this beats rooster fighting!” exclaimed Hank, as Joe stepped outinto the room. “You surely couldn’t have locked yourself in there. Howdid you happen to get in such a fix?”
“I’ll tell you all about that later,” said Joe hurriedly; “but I want tothank you, Hank Harley, for what you’ve done for me. It’s a big favorand I’m grateful for it.”
“That’s all right,” murmured Hank rather shamefacedly, “I reckon it wasup to me to do something for you fellows after the other day’s work.”
Joe looked at him in surprise. What did this new attitude mean? True,Hank had taken no active part in the kidnapping of Nat, but he had madeno move to prevent it; and yet here he was, apparently seeking theirfriendship. But the boy had no time to devote to speculation orquestioning right then.
His sharp eyes had spied two pieces of paper lying on the floor near thewireless instruments. He eagerly picked them up and then gave anexclamation of delight.
“Why, those fellows have dropped the cipher and the key to it,” heexclaimed as he scanned the two sheets, “and here’s the message writtenout, too. Well, if this isn’t real luck!”