El Diablo Part 47

Hope danced brightly before his eyes as he touched the boat. Weakened by hunger, he rubbed his shriveled limbs and tottered to his feet, waving his knife. Then he chuckled aloud. There was no one in the boat.

Throwing the knife upon one of the seats, he leaped again to the sand and began to shove. Mother of G.o.d, he had no strength. The bottom grated noisily on the pebbles. Then the dory slid into the water. Laughing to himself, he threw his body over the rail and felt about for the oars.

Men were running down the beach. He had not a second to lose. His hand closed upon the oars. He was saved. Tugging feebly at the heavy sweeps, he drew them through the water with all his might and the dory moved slowly forward. Again his weakened muscles responded to the fevered call of his brain. Suddenly he felt the dory strike a heavy object ahead. Thrown half from his seat by the impact he dropped an oar, regained it on the instant and pushed the skiff away from the launch as hands reached out to grasp it. Then he heard the low murmur of voices from the motor-boat. As he headed close in to the rocks he felt the stern of the dory dip sharply.

Gregory whirled at the sharp rattle of oars and raced down the beach in the direction of the dory. Some one was meddling with their boat. When he reached the place where they had left the skiff, he found it gone.

From the waters of the little cove came the creak of oar-locks. Plunging into the water, Gregory swam rapidly in the direction of the launch.

Whoever had taken the boat was heading straight for the _Richard_.

A sharp b.u.mp sounded close ahead and Gregory redoubled his efforts to reach the side of the launch. Then he narrowly escaped being run down by the small boat which had turned and was heading in for the rocks.

Grasping the stern of the dory as it moved by him, he hung for a moment while he regained his wind, striving vainly to ascertain how many pa.s.sengers the skiff carried.

Suddenly he noticed that the oars no longer disturbed the water and the skiff had lost its way. Then he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps coming toward the stern. Releasing his hold, he swam along the side and caught the bow, dragged his body from the water and tumbled into the boat. The same instant a heavy oar crashed against the seat close to his head and a dark figure flung itself upon him.

It was but the work of a moment for Gregory to overpower the thief of the small boat and bind him with the dory's painter. The man had fought desperately only for a moment, then collapsed, and gibbering with fear had allowed himself to be bound without a struggle.

Turning the skiff about, Gregory started for the launch. Had the man landed others on the _Richard_? Surely he had reached the speed-boat and had put about. Was he bent only upon stealing the boat or was he only one of many who would be down upon them any minute?

Arriving alongside the _Richard_ d.i.c.kie hailed him softly.

"Some fellow tried to steal our boat," he explained to the girl. "If you'll get Billings to help me get him aboard I'll go back and pick up the boys."

d.i.c.kie's companion in the launch a.s.sisted him in lifting the prisoner to the _Richard's_ darkened c.o.c.kpit where he lay huddled in a heap.

As Gregory rowed away in the direction of the sh.o.r.e, Billings veiled an electric torch and allowed its tiny ray to fall full upon the face of the quivering prisoner.

"A greaser," he whispered to the girl. "Look. He's scared to death."

d.i.c.kie looked quickly at the crumpled little figure. Then she fell on her knees close beside the man and peered intently into his shriveled face. For an instant she remained motionless staring into the face of the trembling captive.

"My G.o.d!" she whispered. "It's Mexican Joe."

CHAPTER XXIX

UNDER ORDERS

"You have seen nothing of the speed-boat from Legonia?"

Mascola shook his head in answer to the question and reached for the bottle which stood on the table in Bandrist's ranch-house.

Bandrist jerked it away. "Cut that out," he said sternly. "You've had enough. To-night you have work to do. You must keep sober."

Mascola scowled, glaring angrily at the islander as he went on:

"Mr. Gregory left Legonia at ten-thirty with his speed-boat. There were five in the launch. Four men and Miss Lang."

Mascola drew in his breath sharply.

"That d.a.m.ned Lang girl," he began. "She is a----"

Bandrist slid from his chair with a quick movement which carried him wriggling about the table.

"Keep your tongue still," he gritted as he towered over the Italian.

"You talk too much."

Mascola started from his chair, but there was a look in Bandrist's eyes which made him drop back. A sneering smile played about the Italian's lips but he said nothing. If Bandrist was a fool about a woman, what was that to him? He could not afford to quarrel with the islander. Not yet.

"How did Peters know they were coming here?" he asked after a moment.

"He didn't," Bandrist answered shortly. "But it is only natural that they should come here. Their boats have been fishing along the north sh.o.r.e of the island. Your men failed to drive them off."

Mascola flushed.

"My men did drive them off," he contradicted hotly. "Only a few minutes ago they returned with other boats. I will drive those off too."

Bandrist smiled insultingly.

"Why don't you do it?" he challenged. "To-night is a time I must have something more than talk. I want you to go down and join your fleet at once, keep a close watch and if the speed-boat does not arrive within a half-hour, let me know immediately."

Mascola made no move to obey.

"Gonzolez is laying in at the goose-neck," he said. "I sent Rossi round to join him. The _Fuor d'Italia_ lies in the little cove beyond."

Bandrist's blue eyes flashed. "I can tend to that," he exclaimed. "You do what you're told and quit meddling with my business."

"It's my business too," Mascola retorted doggedly. "Gonzolez is becoming angry at the delay. He will wait no longer."

Bandrist walked slowly to the window and stared out into the fog. When he faced about an automatic shone dully in his hand.

"Do as I tell you," he ordered quietly. "And do it quick."

Mascola's face purpled. Still he made no move to do Bandrist's bidding.

"Don't forget," he said thickly, "that there are others who know besides you and me. If anything happens to me at Diablo there is one who will tell what he knows. I have seen to that."

Bandrist's fingers tightened on the revolver. Then he slowly replaced it in his pocket. The Italian might only be bluffing, but it was best to take no unnecessary chances. Mastering his anger at Mascola's insubordination, Bandrist walked again to the table.

"Perhaps you are right," he said pleasantly. "Let us go on to the goose-neck."

When Gregory returned to the _Richard_ with Slade and Hawkins he found d.i.c.kie Lang huddled close beside the crumpled figure of his captive. The girl was sobbing softly as she listened to the whispered words of the little Mexican.