It was Ned Bang’s, the boyish wireless operator of the Sea King, who met them at the head of the ladder. Behind him pressed a ring of curious faces, the bronzed countenances of seamen. Some incandescents had been switched on as the newcomers gained the deck, and in the yellow light Jack saw that all the faces that gazed into his bore the unmistakable stamp of agitation.

Bangs, besides being the wireless operator of the Sea King, was something more. He had been a pupil of Professor Chadwick’s and a school fellow of Jack’s, and was quite a scientific adept along the lines he had chosen to follow.

But Jack and Tom exchanged merely hasty words of greeting with the youngster who stood facing them, pallid-faced under his coat of tan and shaken evidently by some recent shock.

“What is it, Ned? What has happened?” demanded Jack eagerly, as soon as the boys had clasped hands. “Where is father? Why are you out here alone?”

“It’s—it’s a long story. Jack,” half-stammered Ned. “I—I’m afraid that we who are here on board don’t show up to very good advantage in it. But you must be the judge of that. Shall we go below, where we can talk?”

There was a reticence, a hesitancy in his tones that irritated Jack, overwrought as he already was.

“I asked you a question, Ned,” he said in sharp tones, very unlike his usual affable ones, “where is my father?”

“I saw him last near Yucatan,” burst forth Ned miserably.

The reply was so utterly unexpected that it fairly took Jack and Tom off their feet. Ned had not seen fit to supplement his statement, but stood there with that same shamefaced expression playing over his visage.

“And you—you left him behind there?” broke out Jack, guessing part of the truth.

“We couldn’t help it,” wailed Ned wretchedly. “Wait till I tell you about it.”

Jack’s head swam. Behind the vague words he sensed a tragedy of some sort in that mysterious country which had already, so it was thought, claimed the life of Tom’s father, Mr. Jesson.

“How did the Sea King come to be off Yucatan?” inquired Jack, “her course, as laid out, was far to the east of that country.”

“I know that,” replied Ned; “but a gale blew us off our reckonings, and into as strange and terrible a series of adventures as you ever heard of in the wildest fiction.”

“Tell us about it,” demanded Tom crisply, cutting short Ned’s rather hysterical outburst. “Come below, into the cabin. It is important that we should know everything as soon as possible.”

“This way,” said Ned, stepping toward the stern.

But Jack paused.

“An attempt was made to ram the Vagrant to-night,” he said, “by a queer, but extremely speedy craft. Do you know anything about her, Ned?”

“Do I know anything about her?”

A quaver of indignation injected itself into Ned’s voice.

“Well, I should say so,” he went on; “that’s the vessel of that scoundrel Herrera, the cousin of the governor of Yucatan, which, as you know, is at present a province of Mexico, but, so far as civilization is concerned, parts of it might as well be in the wilds of Africa.”

Tom had been fidgeting excitedly. The name of Yucatan had called up a swarming crowd of memories of his father, the long missing explorer.

“Had my uncle’s visit to Yucatan anything to do with my father’s disappearance?” he asked.

“Everything,” was the rejoinder, in steadier tones than Ned Bangs had yet assumed. The presence of the self-possessed cousins, and their infectious manner of quiet ability, had braced the unstrung lad up wonderfully.

“It was to rescue your father from——”

“Then he is alive?” burst in Tom, aglow at the wonderful news.

“So there is every reason to suppose,” was Ned’s reply.

Without giving him time to say more, the cousins, having ordered the crew to keep a keen lookout for the speedy “ram” craft and notify them instantly of its appearance, half dragged Ned below, and shoved him into a chair in the comfortably furnished main cabin of the Sea King.

“Now then,” said Jack, “tell us everything, Ned, from the beginning. But first you are reasonably certain that both my father and my uncle are alive?”

“There is practically no doubt of that,” was Ned’s response.

“Then fire away,” ordered Tom, seating himself beside Jack, opposite the still badly shaken Ned Bangs.

“We left New York at the time you know,” commenced Ned, “and cruised for some time in the West Indies, your father. Jack, making stacks of observations and records. We met many interesting adventures, but I’m not going to detail all those now. But, although your father seemed to be immersed in his scientific observations, there were several things unexplained about the Sea King’s equipment.

“In a sort of well amidships was stored the aero-auto with which you had been experimenting before he left High Towers.”

Jack nodded. He knew the wonderful craft had been placed aboard, but had understood it had been taken along for private demonstration purposes.

“You mean the air and land craft driven by the gas generated from radolite crystals?” he asked. “The Flying Road Racer, as we called it.”

“Yes,” rejoined Ned, “I guess that’s it. But I reckon you know more about that than I do since you invented it. Anyhow, the aero-auto, as Professor Chadwick called it, was installed in this well, or pit, amidships, which had evidently been prepared for its reception in advance.”

“And it’s still there?” inquired Tom sharply.

“Still there. Whatever Professor Chadwick intended to use it for, he had no opportunity to try it out before—before what I’m going to tell you occurred. Then, too, I noticed that several chests containing articles whose nature was a mystery to me were stored in a sort of lazaretto under the cabin floor. Whatever their contents, they were evidently too precious for Professor Chadwick to let them out of his sight.”

“Wait a second,” interrupted Tom, “I want to take a look outside.”

In a moment he was back, anti dropped into his place with an “All’s well!”

“Never mind details now. Get ahead to Yucatan,” exclaimed Jack impatiently.

“I’m getting there,” protested Ned, a look of what was almost horror passing over his face at the mere mention of the name. “The storm I referred to before, struck us when we were off the southernmost point of Florida. It was a terror of a rip-roaring hurricane. All we could do was to head up into the mountainous seas and run the engines at a quarter speed. We battled with the hurricane thus for four days, and then MacDuffy, the engineer, came on deck one morning with a white face and the news that the main shaft was cracked. It had been unable to withstand the pressure of the racing propeller every time the Sea King’s stern lifted out of the seas.

“Luckily, the wind had moderated a bit by that time, and we set the try sails. Under these we staggered along at a four-knot gait for what seemed an eternity of time. In reality it was about five days. One morning, when the storm had about blown itself out, the lookout shouted that land lay ahead. Sure enough it did. A strip of gray on the horizon; and I can tell you it was a mighty welcome sight.

“Captain Andrews, our sailing master, announced that the coast was, in all probability, that of Yucatan, and from what he told us of it we could not well have struck a more useless stretch of country to us, situated as we were. But it’s ‘any port in a storm’ said the skipper, and we made for the land, staggering along under our clumsy rig.

“That night we anchored off a wild, desolate-looking coast, without a trace of human habitations being visible anywhere. However, we found a bay which, after careful soundings from the boats, proved to have sufficient depth of water to harbor the Sea King snugly. Here we dropped anchor, and mighty glad we were to have struck a haven at last, I can tell you.

“Next day the chief came to your father and told him that he thought he could clamp a metal collar round the break in the shaft and make it practically as good as new. To our astonishment, Professor Chadwick did not greet the news with any special enthusiasm.

“‘You may as well take your time, Mr. MacDuffy,’ says he, ‘for it is probable that we shall remain here for quite a considerable period.’

“‘A considerable period, sir!’ exclaimed MacDuffy in some surprise. ‘Do you mean to explore yon forsaken land in the interests of science?’

“‘It seems to me, MacDuffy,’ answered Professor Chadwick (MacDuffy told me all this later), ‘that fate has brought me here. A very dear and a very near relative of mine vanished in this part of Yucatan many years ago. When we set out on this cruise I had an idea that perhaps I might undertake to go in search of him, or, at least, to discover some trace of his fate. That accounts for the aero-auto which, as you know, my son Jack and I invented, and also explains those chests which contain several more of our inventions suitable to such an expedition.’

“The Professor went on to say that now that he found himself off the very land which held the secret of Mr. Jesson’s fate, he didn’t mean to leave without making an attempt to solve it. From this determination he was not to be swayed, and the next day one of the boats set him and three of the crew, Abner Jennings, the boatswain; Jack Allworthy, the second engineer; and Ezra Kettle, a Maine man and a staunch seaman, ashore. We watched them from the Sea King as they dragged the boat up on the beach and set off into the jungle, beyond which lay the misty blue outline of a range of huge hills.

“Without the slightest warning, and just as they were about to plunge into the thick brush, the mangroves and scrub vegetation parted, and a score of savage-looking Indians rushed out. We saw your father and the others try to parley with them, and then, before we could even train a gun on the scene, the thing happened.”

He paused for an instant, overcome by the recollection of that tragedy on the Yucatan beach. Immediately Jack jumped to his feet.

“I’ve forgotten the ‘enemy’ outside. Hold on a minute,” he called as he dashed away to the deck. “The watch may be all right,” he continued, when he returned, “but there’s nothing like one’s own eyes. Go on, Ned.”

“Poor Kettle went down, transfixed by a spear in the first few seconds after the encounter. Professor Chadwick’s intention had merely been to reconnoitre in preparation for an expedition later on. Not expecting trouble, none of the party was armed. Allworthy dashed back to the boat and seized up an oar. He did valiant service with it before he, too, was felled by a spear-thrust. In the meantime, Professor Chadwick and Abner Jennings had been captured, notwithstanding their stout resistance. Then they were dragged off into the jungle, while we stood half-paralyzed with horror at the suddenness and disastrous consequences of the attack.

“The last we saw of your father. Jack, he was motioning back to us to put out to sea. Brave to the last, he thought of us before himself.”

Ned stooped and placed his hands over his eyes as if to shut out the picture his words called up. Jack Chadwick sat staring vacantly at the paneling of the cabin, not daring to trust his voice to speech. Tom, not less affected, gripped his cousin’s hand.

“Remember, old chap,” he murmured, “that Ned told us some time ago that there was reason to believe that your father was still alive.”

“I’m coming to that,” said Ned, raising his head and proceeding with his narrative.