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Just here one of the officer's a.s.sistants came up and whispered in the ear of his superior. He pointed at the forecastle.
"Yes, yes," nodded Silverado, "take a look there, and be thorough."
"Getting warm!" chuckled Dave to himself--"the precious hypocrites!"
The man went into the forecastle and came out again. He looked into the water barrel. He lifted some box covers. Just as Dave guessed he would do, he kept up all this wise pretense until he landed up against the forecastle cubby-hole.
"I have found something," he announced, after groping in the hole. He had brought forth the stone jar.
"Ah, what is this?" spoke the officer. "Captain," he added, a.s.suming great sudden gravity as he inspected the jar, "this looks pretty serious."
"Well, what's the mare's nest now?" petulantly demanded Broadbeam.
The officer held up the jar in plain view.
"It is what we expected to find," he announced severely. "It is opium.
We know that last week a tramp steamer landed a lot of the stuff on the island. The labels show that this is part of the same contraband cargo.
I declare this package and the _Swallow_ under confiscation, and arrest you. You must come to the governor."
"Oh, that so?" slowly spoke Captain Broadbeam, his shoulders hunching dangerously. "I never saw that jar before, and, shiver my timbers!"
roared the incensed old captain, shaking his fist vigorously under Silverado's nose, "I don't know the stuff is opium."
"Oh, yes, captain," insisted the officer. "The labels are unmistakable.
Look for yourself. Ough!"
With smart-Aleck readiness the suave Silverado untwisted the jar cover.
With a sharp cry he dropped it. In a cloud, a stream, there instantly darted out from the receptacle an angry procession of hornets.
They lit on those nearest to the jar, the officer and his a.s.sistants.
One of his aides was a special target. The poor fellow ran to the side to escape them. He set up renewed yells as they stuck, pestered, and stung. Then, splash! he took a reckless header into the waters of the creek to escape his pertinacious tormentors.
Silverado lost all his usual calm dignity trying to evade the little pests. He bit his lips and scowled as the captain faced him with a loud derisive guffaw.
"Here, take away your contraband goods with you," shouted Broadbeam, dropping jar and cover into the yawl, as the official hastily descended into it, a crestfallen look on his face. "Ready, there," he added to the boatswain. "Steam up."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Captain Broadbeam stepped to the little pilot house. He touched an electric b.u.t.ton.
Dave watched the maneuver with a glowing face. He was full of the successful guess he had made concerning the planted opium, but he did not try to explain that just then.
The jar of the starting steam below communicated a vibrating thrill to his nerves. Dave ran up to Amos Fearless as the veteran diver crossed the deck.
"Good news, father!" cried Dave gayly, "We've started."
"Hey and hallo for me paternal dominions--once more for the Windjammers'
Island and the stolen threasure!" shouted Pat Stoodles, cutting a caper.
"Will we find it, I wonder?" sighed the old diver thoughtfully.
"I think we shall, father," answered Dave Fearless, with confidence.
CHAPTER IX
A BOLD PROJECT
The _Swallow_ cleared her moorings in the creek on Minotaur Island, and steamed out into the broad waters of the bay, a thing of life and beauty.
"And what's that for now?" asked Pat Stoodles of Dave, who was watching their progress and the coastline with great interest.
"I see," nodded Dave. "You mean the longboat from the governor?"
"That same, lad. Luk at 'em, now. Ever since we came into open wather they've been tearing along for the town like mad. Aha, there goes one of those measly marines overboard."
Dave ran for a telescope. He viewed the government boat with a good deal of curiosity.
The official, Silverado, stood up in the stern gesticulating with energy, and evidently inciting his men to their best efforts at the oars.
"In a hurry to reach town, it seems," muttered Pat.
"In a tremendous hurry," said Dave. "So much so, that one of the men has leaped overboard, waded ash.o.r.e, and is making a lickety-switch run across lots for the town."
Dave went at once to Captain Broadbeam and apprized him of the maneuvers of their recent visitors.
"That's all right, lad," chuckled the old mariner. "Let 'em squirm.
We're safe out of their clutches."
"Not so safe," spoke Dave to his father, half an hour later. "Look there."
The officer Silverado had seemingly got word to the governor of the departure of the _Swallow_. A few minutes after the longboat had disappeared around a neck of land, the ironclad gunboat hove into view.
She was a saucy, spiteful little craft and a fast runner. She was headed direct for the _Swallow_.
"Are they coming for us, captain?" inquired Amos Fearless, somewhat anxiously.
"I hope not, for their own sakes," muttered Broadbeam quickly. Then he shouted some orders down the tube and the _Swallow_ made a spurt.
"Running away?" said Pat Stoodles. "Shure, if I was in command I'd sthand and give her one or two good welts."
"Captain Broadbeam knows his business, Mr. Stoodles," declared Dave; "you can always count on that."
Far out in the bay were a group of sandbars and several small wooded islands. The _Swallow_ was headed for the largest of these islets. The gunboat swung a challenge signal to which the _Swallow_ made no reply.
Then, just as the steamer, pursuant to her captain's orders, began to slow up, the ironclad fired a gun.