close upon noon the following day, moon-faced jerry was heading for the after cabins, broom in hand, with intent to sweep up the mess cabin. manuel mendez, who had the deck, playfully whipped out his sheath-knife, and pretended to dive for jerry. with a howl of terror, the boy slashed the mate's shins with the broom-handle—a wild blow.
"leave go o' me, you nigger!" he howled, as the hand of mendez caught his collar.
"who you call nigger? me?" demanded manuel mendez angrily. "what you t'ink dis ship be, huh? you say 'sir' to de mate, queeck!"
one giant black hand encircling the boy's throat; mendez laughed and choked him until jerry's face was purple. then, having heard the desired "sir", mendez flung jerry at the companionway which swallowed him from sight.
at the bottom of the ladder, jerry perceived captain pontifex bearing his instruments and going above for the noon observation. jerry sidled into the nearest cabin and hid. he knew that the missus was up forward in the galley, safely engaged in getting dinner.
thus it happened that when florence went swiftly to the stern cabin, and tom dennis stood upon the companion ladder to give her warning of any approaching danger from above, neither of them knew that moon-faced jerry was fearfully waiting and listening inside the cabin of mendez, the door slightly ajar. and that cabin adjoined the stern cabin.
"father—can you wink your eyelids once for 'yes' and twice for 'no'? quickly!"
florence stood before the immobile figure of her father, watching him with anxious desperate eyes. the eyes of miles hathaway winked—very slowly, very slightly, but very perceptibly. was it chance or design?
"have you given the position of the wreck to captain pontifex?" breathed the girl. her father's eyes closed twice. a sudden glory shone in her face, as she realized that this was no accident—that she was communicating with her father at last!
"you heard all that passed at the meeting here," she hurried on. "was he sincere in what he said? does he mean to keep his promises to us?"
the eyelids of the paralytic fluttered twice.
"have they harmed you?"
"yes."
"can we trust anyone aboard here?"
no answer. evidently hathaway was not sure upon this point.
"have they any intentions of harming me?"
"yes."
"they have! and tom too?"
"yes. yes." repeated, this time, manifestly for emphasis. the girl paled slightly.
"will they harm us before we reach unalaska?"
"no."
tom dennis began to whistle cheerily. florence, who had filled her father's pipe, put it between his lips and held a match while he puffed. as she did so, the door behind her was flung open, and into the cabin came tom, propelling before him the cabin boy jerry.
"heard everything you said, florence," said dennis, surveying the shrinking boy. "now, jerry, what d'you mean by spying on us? who set you in there to listen?"
"nobody." jerry began to blubber. "but that nigger mendez kicked me downstairs, and i seen him comin', and i ducked in there. i didn't mean to hear nothing honest! and i won't tell them, neither, if ye let me go. don't whale me!"
"lord, jerry, i wouldn't hurt you!" said dennis; but he frowned as he spoke. he looked at florence and gestured helplessly. if the boy told—their game was done!
"jerry," said the girl, suddenly stooping and kissing the gaping boy, "do you like captain pontifex?"
"no, i don't! i hate him! and if we ever get anywhere, i'm going to run away."
"he hates us, jerry. do you want to go away from this ship with us?
"you bet, ma'am. can i?"
"if you don't say a word to anyone about what you just heard. if you do, mr. dennis and i will suffer, and you'll get no chance to run away."
"cross m'heart, ma'am." and jerry earnestly suited action to word. a sudden excitement shone in his eyes. "they've double-crossed you all the time. i know; i've heard 'em talk! they're goin' to give you to that man frenchy, that used to be cook. i never seen him, but they talk about him lots."
"all right, jerry," said dennis hastily. "beat it before the skipper comes back."
the boy fled. dennis looked at the flushed hurt face of florence.
"give me—to that man!" she said faintly. "oh! it—it's impossible——"
"right, old girl—it's quite impossible." dennis made a gesture of caution, as he heard the sound of steps from the passage. "you leave it to me, that's all. i'm sorry you heard that, florence; but it'll be all right. better take that pipe from your father, or we'll forget it. eight bells just struck and we'd better run along to dinner."
the skipper entered, with a smiling nod and a twirl of his moustache.
"unalaska day after to-morrow, if the wind hold," he announced, his deep-set eyes flitting from face to face as if seeking secrets there. "all's well?"
"all well and hungry, skipper." dennis turned to the door. "coming?"
"not for five minutes. i want to jot down these figures and work out our position."
during the meal which ensued, tom dennis marvelled at the manner in which florence maintained her cool poise, with never a token to indicate the terrific ordeal to which she had so lately been subjected. and little jerry, his moon-face white and frightened, served the table with an occasional adoring glance at the girl; the danger from jerry was palpably eliminated.
to dare risk further conversation with miles hathaway would be unadvisable, dennis realized. discussing the matter with florence that afternoon, he found all traces of excitement gone from her; she was coolly alert, and much better poised than was dennis himself. fury was so deep and strong within him that it was difficult for him to restrain his passion; but florence had become quite cool and dispassionate.
"it is quite clear, tom," she said quietly, "that we must get father off this ship at unalaska. if the revenue cutter is there, you had better interview the commander, tell exactly what has happened, and have father placed ashore. if the revenue cutter is not there, the port authorities——"
"will probably be too slow to act," put in dennis. "and there's another thing—this ship has diving equipment aboard, with all things necessary for the work in hand. i want to go after the wreck of the simpson, florence: i believe that pontifex will be only too glad to set us all ashore at unalaska provided he could get the location of that wreck."
"but he wouldn't trust father to give him the correct location. he'd hold us, or hold father, as hostages."
dennis nodded, frowningly. after a moment he rose.
"dear, please go to your father at once, tell him that it is absolutely essential that he give pontifex the correct location of that wreck. tell him that i shall handle the entire matter in such a way that pontifex will ultimately get his just desserts; but for the present it is necessary that pontifex should not suspect us."
"and you, tom? what are you going to do now?"
"i'm going to see the skipper—i think he's on deck. if your father consents to do as i request, please call us at once."
dennis hurried out to the companion way, and ascended to the deck.
pontifex was there, indeed—tall and cavernous, caressing his curled black moustache while he talked with mr. leman. dennis approached them with his heartiest manner.
"well, gentlemen, good news!" he said warmly. "do you remember, captain, mentioning dumas to me when we came aboard? that gave us an idea, and i believe that mrs. dennis will be able to communicate with her father. in fact, i expect her to call us down there at any moment to get the location of that wreck. pretty good, eh?"
mr. leman rubbed his broken nose. the skipper gave dennis a sharp look, then forced a smile.
"why, certainly, mr. dennis! very glad indeed to hear it. the means?"
"by captain hathaway's winking his eyes in response to certain questions. simple, if we'd only thought about it, eh? and, captain, mrs. dennis and i both think that when we reach unalaska she had better be put ashore there with her father. she's rather worried over his condition, and she'd be able to secure comforts ashore which can't be had here."
pontifex nodded absently. his pallid features looked very uneasy.
"then you'd go on with us?" he asked after a moment.
"of course!" assented dennis heartily. "don't you want me?"
"you bet we do!" returned the skipper fervently, his face clearing. "we'll need every man aboard when the work begins."
"good—then it's settled!" exclaimed dennis. "when do we make unimak pass?"
"to-morrow night," spoke up mr. leman, and fell to discussing the weather.
five minutes later florence appeared on deck, smiled and nodded brightly as the two officers touched their caps, and approached them with well-assumed eagerness.
"i can talk with father!" she exclaimed as though the discovery were fresh. "come, down, gentlemen! he knows exactly what i'm saying, tom, and winks once for 'yes' and twice for 'no'! i asked if he'd give us the exact location of the wreck, and he said 'yes'; so i came to call you at once."
"excellent, mrs. dennis! i congratulate you," exclaimed the skipper. "mr. leman cannot leave the deck. i'll call mr. mendez as we go down. well, well, mrs. dennis! your husband was just telling us of the method of communication. quite ingenious, quite! by the way, have you seen mrs. pontifex?"
mr. leman, who entirely disregarded the conventional title of the lady, sang out in quick response:
"the missus is up for'ard in the galley. ahoy, corny! pass up the word for the missus!"
so the word was "passed up", and the large figure of mrs. pontifex appeared near the try-works as florence descended the companion ladder. with the missus at the end of the procession, the others passed on into the stern cabin, the skipper knocking at the door of manuel mendez en route and commanding his immediate presence.
"best do this all shipshape," suggested the skipper, when they stood before and around the immobile figure of miles hathaway. "i'll get out a chart, mrs. dennis——"
pontifex searched his chart locker and did not find the desired chart until manuel mendez appeared, smiling his eternal and monstrous grin. then pontifex produced a chart of the aleutian islands.
"now, ma'am," he addressed florence, "while i read off the figures to your poor old father, you stand by to watch for the answers. all ready? good. let's take up the latitude first—easier to determine the position that way. now, is the position north of fifty-four?"
"no," returned florence almost at once.
"hm! that cuts out everything north of dutch harbour, eh? north of fifty-two?"
"no," answered florence.
"good enough, ma'am. now let's take up the longitude. west from greenwich?"
"yes."
"between one seventy-four and seventy-eight?"
"no."
"between one seventy-eight and eighty?"
"yes!" exclaimed florence.
"getting warm, eh?" pontifex spoke eagerly, a tinge of red in his pale cheeks. "ah! it's among that clump of islands south-east of tanaga. now, mr. hathaway, kindly follow my pencil from island to island with your eyes, this way——"
the skipper slowly passed the point of a pencil from one barren rock island to another. a swift cry from florence checked him; holding his pencil, he gazed steadily at miles hathaway.
"is this it?" he demanded, a sudden ring of steel in his tone. "this one—the most southerly of the rocks to the eastward of kavalga?"
the gaze of one and all centred upon miles hathaway who for a moment met the level gaze of pontifex with unmoving eyes. then, slowly, hathaway signified "yes".
a deep breath filled the cabin; but the tense attitude of pontifex did not change. he held his eyes steadily upon those of hathaway. his voice came like a challenge, steely and commanding.
"is that the correct position, captain hathaway—upon your word of honour?"
"yes," signalled hathaway immediately.
captain pontifex turned. he rolled up the chart and tossed it upon the table.
"hathaway's word is as good as my own—and that means good," he said quietly. "now, mrs. dennis, am i correct in believing that you wish to be set ashore with your father at unalaska?"
"yes." florence looked at him, smiling. "i'll be sorry to miss the salvage work, captain pontifex, but i'd like to obtain medical aid for my father, and to care for him ashore in person. he's more important to me than any money, you understand?"
"of course." and pontifex nodded.
the missus was watching him in unconcealed surprise, while mendez had ceased entirely to smile. this was their first hint about setting anyone ashore. pontifex caressed his moustache and glanced at them, his deep-set eyes ironic.
"mrs. dennis and captain hathaway shall be set ashore at unalaska," he said. "mr. dennis goes with us as their representative, to take part in the work on the simpson. i think that concludes our meeting."
five minutes later, in the privacy of their own cabin, florence faced tom dennis, her hands on his shoulders.
"dear, i had hard work to make father consent," she said quietly. "but he yielded to my love and utter confidence in you. now tell me—why did you do it? do you really mean to go alone with these men, on this ship?"
dennis filled his pipe, stooped to kiss her lips, then struck a match.
"i most certainly do, my dear. the chances are a thousand to one that the revenue cutter will not be in unalaska bay. in that event, you and your father will go ashore, while i shall sail with the pelican. you'll take my big grip ashore, containing that phonograph and records. by this means your father can tell his entire story to the proper authorities. that will take time, of course, and it will take time to summon the revenue cutter, even by wireless.
"i believe that under the circumstances, i an oath can be administered to your father in a perfectly legal manner. you know the position of the wreck. with your father's story as a basis for action you can go to work in a proper manner with the authorities; whatever charges your father lays against pontifex can be sworn to; your own signature to the agreement with pontifex was obtained by fraud and deceit.
"you understand? do nothing in a hurry. give us a clear two weeks in which to get this ship loaded with the salvaged stuff. then get sharp quick action, file a libel, or whatever the term is to denote an attachment of the ship. sue pontifex heavily in both your father's name and in ours, and claim whatever he has salvaged in your own name. we'll grab his ship and his salvaged stuff at one swoop, see? while that's going through the courts, we will gut the john simpson of all that's left in her. there's a newspaper man in vancouver named margate; i'll give you cables to send off to him. he'll doubtless be able to get backing and to charter some kind of an old tub—and while pontifex is in the courts with us, margate will be looting the simpson, before the general public gets wise to where the john simpson is lying. see?"
the eyes of the girl were large with wonder-admiration, and delight. then fear struck into their depths.
"the plan is wonderful, tom! but you—in the meantime?"
dennis grinned. "me? i'll be jollying old pontifex along; never fear!"
