Stratemeyer Edward
Young Hunters in Porto Rico: or, The Search for a Lost Treasure

CHAPTER IX
FIGHTING THE FLAMES

Old Jacob's loud cries soon aroused everybody. The first person to come up from below was Don, who looked as pale as a sheet.

"Is the yacht afire?" he gasped.

"The galley is," returned the old tar. "We've got to work lively if we want to save the Dashaway. Come; man the hose pump, while I get some buckets. And some of ye lower the sails. To run into this wind will only feed the flames."

By this time all the others were on deck, even Danny coming up, his head bound around with a towel.

"It's in de galley!" he groaned. "I t'ought dat fire was most out!"

He, too, ran for water, and so did Dick, while Leander and Bob began to work, first on the mainsail and then the jib, which, in less than two minutes were safely stowed away, although in a hasty, clumsy fashion.

Luckily the hose pump was handy, and soon a small stream was pouring into the galley from the window, the door having in the meantime been tightly closed, so that the fire might obtain no draught to feed upon. Then came old Jacob with some extra buckets, and a bucket brigade was formed by the old tar and Robert Menden.

It was hot work, and it must be confessed that everybody was thoroughly scared, feeling that if the fire once got beyond the galley, the yacht would be doomed.

"And what will become of us, then?" whispered Dick to Don. "We're completely out of sight of land."

"If the wust comes to the wust, we'll fill the small boat with provisions and take to that," said old Jacob. "But I think we can master these flames yet."

The sparks were now pouring from the windows of the galley at a lively rate, and soon a bright column of flame shot up.

"Dat's de pot uf grease!" groaned Danny. "I was so sick I didn't t'ink to put it away."

He was laboring as hard as any of them, working the hose pump with Don, who felt ready to drop with exhaustion.

"I'll go down in the hold and see if it's eating through the floor," said old Jacob, and disappeared through the hatchway.

All waited anxiously for what he might have to say. They heard him crawling about with care.

"No fire yet," he yelled. "But plenty of smoke. Work lively, an' keep it up, lads!" And then all hands went at it with renewed vigor.

Inside of five minutes their labors began to show some effect. The flames died away and only the thick smoke continued to pour from the galley.

"All of you fill your buckets, and then I'll open the door," said Dick, and his instructions were followed. At the draught a slight flame went up, but a single douse of water put it out; and then the conflagration was practically over.

But neither old Jacob nor any of the others were satisfied, and procuring a patch of old canvas, the Yankee tar soaked it thoroughly and then went into the galley alone and beat out all of the remaining sparks. Then lanterns were lit, and all hands took turns at inspecting the damage which had been done.

"It's not so great as I thought," said Dick. "The stove is all right, and all we'll have to do is to put up some new boarding on the sides and ceiling. But wasn't it a narrow shave!"

"That's what it was," answered Don, soberly. "I don't want another like it."

"Nor I," added Bob, and Leander shook his head doubtfully.

"I wonder how it started," was Robert Menden's question. "Danny, can you explain it?"

"Sure an' I can't, sur, savin' to say that I was sick, an' maybe I didn't put the fire out very good, sur;" and Danny looked as if he had committed the greatest crime on earth. The origin of the fire was never fully explained, but probably Danny's view of it was correct.

The fire brought forth another lecture from old Jacob. "Ye can't be too careful, nohow," he said. "Ye want to see to it thet not a spark is allowed around. If the Dashaway had been burnt up, like as not most of us would have lost our lives."

"I am sure we'll all be careful in the future," said Dick.

"You kin bet I'll be on me guard, so I will," broke in Danny. "Dat fire most scared me into a fit, dat's wot it did."

The nights were now beautiful ones. A cloudless sky and millions of stars twinkled down upon the polished deck of the Dashaway as she bowled along before a steady breeze, which old Jacob declared was "jest about right, any way o' lookin' at it." It was cool, too, for that locality, and the balance of the trip promised to prove a most delightful one.

Passing along the Great Bahama Bank to the south of the Andros Islands, the course had been toward Acklin Island, on the southeast, and then past Providence Island, straight onward to a course five or six miles north of the upper coast of Hayti and Dominica.

"We might stop along the coast o' Dominica," observed old Jacob, one day, as he surveyed the distant coast line with his long telescope.

"I wouldn't stop unless it is necessary for stores," returned Robert Menden. "Remember, we want to get to Porto Rico just as quickly as possible."

"We have stores enough to last us to San Juan. I saw to thet afore we pulled up anchor at St. Augustine."

"Then we'll go right straight through," decided Dick; and as he was the owner of the Dashaway, that settled the matter.

But going right straight through was not such an easy matter as anticipated. Early on the following day a heavy fog set in, and by noon it was so thick that one could not see twenty feet ahead. At once old Jacob ordered the jib taken in, also the topsail, while the mainsail was closely reefed.

"This is one o' the wust places in the world fer a fog," was the Yankee tar's comment. "Afore ye know it if we ain't careful we'll run on a hidden bank. We must keep a strict watch, and keep the fog horn blowing until the fog lifts." And this was done, one and another taking his turn at the big horn until he was tired. Once, about seven o'clock, they heard an answering horn, which seemed to come closer and closer, but just as they felt they had good cause for alarm, the sound began to recede, until it was lost in the distance.

"This is reg'lar smugglers' weather," said old Jacob. "They love it, for they can land goods 'most anywhere, without the custom house officials being the wiser."

"Did you ever run across any smugglers?" questioned Don, who stood by.

"I did once – down on the coast o' Maine. They were bringin' in silk from Chiny, and I helped the revenue officers collar, six o' 'em – strappin' big fellers, too. Three o' the crowd were shot in the mix-up and one o' 'em died in the hospital from his wounds. It was in that muss that I got that," and the old sailor pointed to a long scar along his neck.

"Excuse me, but I want nothing to do with smugglers," shuddered Don. "They must be a bloodthirsty set."

"Some o' 'em are, lad – yet they ain't half so bad as the wreckers – the chaps as sets up false lights along shore to lure a vessel to her doom, so as they kin loot her. Those are the chaps as ought to be hung, every mother's son on 'em!" and old Jacob shook his head decidedly.

It was not until thirty hours had gone by that the fog began to lift, raised by a gentle breeze which sent the Dashaway on her course as lively as ever before.

"Off once more!" shouted Bob. "Hurrah!" and the others joined in the cheer. It was calculated that two days more would bring them within eight of Porto Rico, at a point near Manati, a city located directly in the center of the northern coast, and but a few miles to the westward of San Juan.

But once again their hopes were doomed to disappointment. The wind lasted only until sunrise the next morning, then died out utterly, leaving the sun to boil down on the deck with more fierceness than it had shown for some time.

"Confound the luck!" growled Dick, as he gazed at the idle sails of his craft. "I wonder how long this is going to last."

"Why not whistle for a breeze," suggested Bob, slyly. "I've heard that will fetch it."

"All right, Bob, you whistle," replied Dick.

"I'll tell you what I'd like to do," said Don. "I'd like to take a swim before we go ashore at San Juan."

"Hurrah! just the thing!" cried Leander, throwing up his cap. "We'll all go in together!" And he rushed down to the cabin, to don his bathing trunks. All of the other boys followed, even Danny taking part.

CHAPTER X
A SWIM NOT LIKELY TO BE FORGOTTEN

"You want to be on the lookout fer sharks," observed old Jacob, as he watched the boys' preparations.

"Gracious! Do you mean to say there are sharks around here?" ejaculated Leander.

"I don't see any, but there may be, nevertheless. Howsomever, I'll keep my weather eye open an' give ye warnin', if I see anything suspicious."

"I don't want any sharks in mine," put in Don, and hesitated a long while before entering the ocean. But when he saw the others diving about and having a good time, he could not resist the temptation to join them.

It was jolly sport. The water was just warm enough to be pleasant, and the waves were so light that there was little or no danger of being pounded against the yacht's sides. They dove and turned somersaults to their hearts' content, and then Dick proposed a race, and an empty barrel was thrown out behind the Dashaway.

"Each boy must swim to the right of the barrel and around it," cried out Robert Menden. "An extra piece of pie to the lad touching the rudder first on the return. Line up now. All ready?"

"Yes! yes!" was the cry.

"Then go!" And away went the five boys, shrieking and laughing wildly, while Robert Menden and old Jacob watched the sport with keen interest.

The barrel had floated all of a hundred and fifty feet away, so the race would be one of over a hundred yards. At first Dick was in the lead, but gradually Leander crawled up, with Bob, Don and Danny not far behind.

"I'm goin' to win dis race if I kin!" gasped the chubby Irish lad. "Dat extry pie is comin' to me, even if I has ter make it meself!"

"No, Danny, you'll make the pie for me!" laughed Bob, and forged ahead of all of the others.

At the turning point Bob led, with Leander, Dick, Don and Danny close behind. But now Leander began to play out, and at the barrel he paused for a second to gain his breath.

And then something awful happened – something that Leander will never forget as long as he lives.

Something cold and slimy brushed up against his legs and swiftly encircled them.

What the thing was, Leander could not imagine; but the yell he gave would have shamed an Indian on the war-path.

"Get out!" were his words, and he tried to kick the thing off; but his efforts were unavailing, and whatever it was, it drew about his legs closer and closer and then started to drag him under the surface of the ocean.

He yelled again; but his chums were too intent upon winning the race to pay much attention to him. "Come on, don't lag behind!" called out Dick. "You may win yet."

Before anybody noticed that something was wrong, Bob had reached the rudder post and had won. But now old Jacob was on his feet, and pointing excitedly to where Leander was clutching at the empty barrel and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Somethin' is wrong with the lad," said the old Yankee tar.

"Help! help!" screamed the terrified boy. "Something has me by the legs and is trying to pull me under!"

"Is it possible!" cried Robert Menden. He turned to the old sailor. "What can it be?"

"Don't know – maybe a devil-fish," was the answer.

"Help! don't leave me to die!" came from Leander. He had slipped from the barrel, but now he clutched it once more.

As quickly as he could, old Jacob procured a life line and threw it toward the lad.

But the line fell short and Leander gave another scream.

"Throw me a long knife, and I'll try to help him," said Dick. "He shan't perish if I can help him."

"No, no, boy; it may cost you your life," shuddered Robert Menden. "All of you had better come on board as quickly as you can."

But none of the members of the Gun and Sled Club would listen to this. They had stuck together before in extreme peril, and they would do the same again.

"Keep up; we are coming!" shouted Dick, and having procured a long kitchen knife he swam toward Leander with all speed. Soon the others had armed themselves in a similar fashion and were following. Even faithful old Dash seemed to realize that something was wrong, and with a loud splash he, too, went over the yacht's side.

"They have grit, as you Americans would say," observed Robert Menden. "What do you think it is?"

"We'll know in a minit," replied old Jacob, and rushed for a gun.

By this time poor Leander was utterly exhausted. The thing about his legs was growing tighter and tighter and pulling downward so heavily that the barrel to which the boy clung was almost totally submerged.

"Save me!" he gasped once more. "I'm going down! It's pulling me under!"

"I'm coming!" answered Dick. "What is it? Can't you make out?"

"Something slippery and slimy. Oh, save me!"

"If it was a devil-fish we'd see something of it," thought Dick, and he dashed in and then under water. In a moment he had hold of Leander's legs and was slashing away vigorously with his knife – at a mass of drifting seaweed!

It was a tough job; but once Dick knew he had not some animal to contend with, or monster of the deep, he grew calmer, and in a minute more Leander was free, and the others were helping him back to the yacht.

Dick brought with him some of the seaweed, which was dark green in color and covered with a whitish slime which gave one a shiver to touch.

Poor Leander was too exhausted to stand, upon reaching the deck, and had to be assisted to the cabin, where he was rubbed down and put to bed.

All on board examined the seaweed with interest.

"It's alive; don't ye forgit thet," observed old Jacob. "An' if Leander hadn't been cut away by Dick, he would have been pulled under, jest as sartin as if he had been tied to a rope. Sometimes thet seaweed covered an acre or more of the ocean. I don't know wot the scientific name is, but us old sailors used to call it Old Nick's hot-bed."

"And a hot-bed it must make," put in Don. "I don't think I want to go swimming around here again."

"The weed winds around anything that it happens to touch, and then it begins to contract, and that pulls the thing down. Many a poor sailor has lost his life through foolin' with Old Nick's hot-bed," concluded old Jacob.

On the day following, the breeze freshened once more, and the Dashaway bowled along merrily. Toward evening all hands began to watch for land, but it did not appear. Yet about nine o'clock in the evening they sighted numerous lights clustered together almost directly south of the yacht.

"Must be the lights of Manati," observed old Jacob; and his surmise proved correct, and by morning they were running straight for the harbor of San Juan.

Now that the end of the long voyage was so close at hand, the boys and Robert Menden were impatient to go ashore, and the time was spent in making preparations for the trip to the great caves near Caguas.

"We may have some difficulty in taking our guns ashore," said Dick. "In that case we'll have to rely, perhaps, on our pistols."

"You won't be hunters after game on this trip," smiled Robert Menden. "You'll be after something of greater value."

"But we'll have to go armed," put in Bob. "I've heard that Porto Rico is full of old-fashioned Spanish brigands."

"There are brigands, but not as many as you perhaps imagine," said the Englishman. "Our greatest enemy will be Joseph Farvel – if he turns up."

"And he will surely appear sooner or later," said Don. "We had better be on our guard against him and any followers he may have picked up."

CHAPTER XI
THE CLUB ARRIVES AT SAN JUAN

The Island of Porto Rico boasts of but three cities of importance: San Juan on the north, Mayaguez on the west and Ponce on the south. The mountainous country back of the seacoast is dotted with hundreds of villages and hamlets; but the means of communication from one place to another are very poor, the best highway being the military road from San Juan to Ponce, a splendid bit of engineering, which, as previously mentioned, runs over mountains nearly, if not all, of four thousand feet high.

San Juan, the capital, is the principal city, especially so far as shipping is concerned, for its harbor is one of the best the island affords. The city contains about 30,000 inhabitants; natives, Spaniards and negroes, and foreigners from all over the world. It is wedged in along the shore, between two frowning forts of whitish stone and a long line of battlements, once kept in good order, but now fast tumbling into decay.

In the city itself there are two plazas; one at the city hall and the other near Fort Christobal – both great meeting-places, in the evenings, for native dames and maidens, young and old men, and children. It is a merry crowd, that smokes, sings, dances, listens to the band, and otherwise amuses itself.

As the Dashaway came to anchor in the harbor, all the boys viewed the shore with interest. They could see row after row of the flat, square houses, set up in long blocks, with narrow and not over clean streets between. About every second house had its second story project over the first, and balconies were to be found everywhere, sometimes causing the street below to be little better than a tunnel.

"All ashore that's going!" cried old Jacob, and the small boat was lowered, and the boys and Robert Menden entered, along with their weapons and other traps, and then the Yankee sailor pulled them to the nearest dock.

Here a harbor officer met them, and a long conference ensued. Then the Dashaway was visited by the San Juan officials and inspected, after which the craft was assigned to a proper position in the harbor. It was at first thought to leave old Jacob in charge of the yacht; but at the last moment a native was engaged to watch the craft, and the Yankee went along with "his boys," as he was wont to call them.

"Now, lads, are you all ready for the trip?" questioned Robert Menden.

"We are," came in a chorus.

"Remember, you may have some dangers to face. Don't go if you would rather remain behind."

"Who's afraid," came from Bob. "I'm not."

"Nor I!" came from the others.

"I'm out fer dat hundred dollars wot was promised to me," put in Danny. "Just youse lead de way an' I'll be close in yer footsteps, see if I ain't."

Each of the lads had provided himself with a hunting suit, and a small pack containing a change of underwear, comb and brush, and the like. All carried a little money, which, in the city, was exchanged for Spanish silver; for it was correctly surmised that the natives in the interior would not take United States coin. To-day that is, of course, changed, and Uncle Sam's coin or paper money is as good as any.

The party of seven soon found themselves on the main street of San Juan. Robert Menden had made some careful inquiries, and without delay they set off for Caguas.

They had hired a native turnout to take them to the place, but the driver failed to turn up, and at last they set out on foot for the village.

The many sights to be seen at every hand were very interesting. Here were the milk and fruit peddlers, each with his wares hanging from a yoke balanced over his broad shoulders. And here were funny looking ponies and donkeys with huge burdens strapped to their backs. Native carts were rather scarce, but occasionally one would come lumbering along, with its broad and almost solid wheels, and its team of oxen or cows. The driver would walk by the team's side, lashing them with a long whip and yelling at them continually in very bad Spanish.

The people also interested the boys. A large proportion of them were black, the blacks increasing in number as the seacoast was left behind. Most of the colored men looked friendly enough, but here and there could be found fellows of mixed Carib blood – tall, ugly looking creatures.

"I reckon they are the Porto Rican brigands," whispered Dick, as they passed three of the ugly looking Caribs. "I don't think I would care to meet them of a dark night along a lonely road."

"These people have good cause to be ugly," put in Robert Menden. "Spain has robbed the natives for years by taxing them to death, and I understand that in many places the church has fallen into disrepute because the clergy do everything they can to get the money away from the sugar and plantation workers. It's really a sad state of affairs."

On they went, until San Juan was left behind and they struck the military road previously mentioned. The walking was all uphill, but the ascent was so gradual that they scarcely noticed it. On both sides of the road grew tropical trees of all sorts – palms, mangoes, guavas, cedar, mahogany, and that wood which can be found almost anywhere – hemlock. There were also plantains and great cacti, and over all trailed immense tropical vines. Close to the deep, black soil grew magnificent ferns, and such mosses as the boys had never before seen.

"Almost a paradise, isn't it?" remarked Don. "And how clear the air is – not half as hot as I imagined it would be."

"Jest you wait until noon afore ye speak o' the heat," returned old Jacob. "Old Sol don't git to work in earnest till about twelve or one o'clock."

They soon crossed a clear running brook, and leaving the bridge, Dick ran down to the water's edge to get a drink.

"Drink through your handkerchief!" called out Robert Menden.

"Through my handkerchief?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"Because you don't want to swallow a lizard or worse. These waters are full of small animal life, so I've been told."

Dick did as the Englishman suggested. And he was glad of it, for while bending down he saw several tiny lizards or leeches swimming near at hand. "None in me, not if I know it," he murmured as he drew back. "I'll inspect everything that goes down my throat after this."

By noon they had covered several miles. The sun was out clear, and now the heat began to tell on them.

"I move we rest," suggested Leander; and this was readily agreed to, and they sat down under an immense plantain, covered with half ripe fruit – that fruit which we commonly know by the name of banana, although the real banana is red.

"Are there any wild animals in Porto Rico?" questioned Don.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Robert Menden. "I shouldn't look for anything very large on an island of this size. All the large stock has probably been killed off by the natives."

"I reckon you'll find wild-cats here an' wild hogs," put in old Jacob. "An, let me tell ye thet a real wild hog is about as dangerous as a wolf or a leetle bear. But it ain't likely thet any wild animals would keep themselves around such a road as this. They would take to the mountains and stay there, so long as they could git enough to eat."

The rest was not half over when Dick grew restless, and arose to take a look at his surroundings.

"I'm bound to see all I can of the country," he said, with a smile. "Will you come, Leander?"

"Certainly," was the answer; and in a moment more the two chums were strolling off.

"Be back inside of fifteen minutes," shouted Robert Menden, and both called back that they understood.

There seemed to be a fine grove of orange trees to the left of the road, and toward this they made their way, wondering if they could pick up any fruit fit to eat.

"It must be fine to have such fruit ready to hand," observed Leander, as they entered the grove. "I reckon the natives don't know the value of what they've got."

"They might say the same of our apples, Leander. I'd rather have apples than oranges – that is, I mean for regular."

"Oh, so would I. Don't they grow apples?"

"I don't think so – anyway, not such apples as we have up North. It's too hot."

They soon found that the oranges were even more green than the plantains, or bananas, had been. They passed the grove and came out on a rocky stretch, overlooking a little valley where flowed a tiny stream, glistening like silver in the sunlight.

"Beautiful scenery," murmured Leander, and Dick agreed with him. Then a flock of gayly-colored birds flew out of some brush to the right of them.

"If I only had my gun," cried Dick – for their firearms had been left at the resting place.

"Let us see if we can't locate their nests," said Leander.

"I don't want to rob their nests," declared Dick.

"Neither do I; but we might have a look at the kind of eggs they lay."

So the pair set off through the brush and over the rocks.

They had gone less than fifty yards when they came to a spot covered with long rushes.

"The ground seems to be shaky here," began Leander, when suddenly, without warning, the rushes gave way, and down plunged both boys out of the bright sunlight into almost total darkness.