Inside the main hut the skipper burst upon a little tableau that sent him hastily back with apologies in place of the hot inquiries he had prepared. Gordon and Mrs. Goring were standing in the middle of the hut, and the man's arms were holding the woman closely, while her face, upturned to his, glowed with a love that irradiated the place. They started at the intrusion; then, recognizing their visitor, Gordon called to him.

"Don't run away, Barry. I'm coming on board with you."

"Yes, wait a moment, Captain," Mrs. Goring rejoined. "I have something for you."

Barry returned, doubting the good of anything that might be for him. But Mrs. Goring took something from the table and went to him, smiling.

"There, Captain," she said, proffering the thing she had picked up. "You may have it now."

Barry took from her the picture of Natalie Sheldon that had been stolen from his chronometer case on the voyage from Surabaya. He stared at it, then at the giver, and from one to the other in a daze.

"How did you get this?" he stammered helplessly.

"Oh, it came to me," she smiled. "You will know how, all in good time. But I can tell you why you lost it, if you care to know. It was stolen from you—as you stole it yourself, you know," she rippled—"but with different motives. You lost it in order that you might be kept hot in the service of its original."

"Then it worked! Have I ever cooled? It seems to me that I have been required to keep cold and hold off."

"Yes, Captain. Events have turned out rather differently from our expectations, but they are running smoothly now. You may safely have the picture. And I believe you will find little restraint upon your actions from now on."

The skipper gazed at the photograph for some time without speaking, then he laid it down on the table and said quietly:

"I don't want it now. If that picture ever takes a place in my cabin again, it will be placed there by Miss Sheldon. That is not very likely to happen. Thank you, just the same, Mrs. Goring, and if I never know how it was lost, it won't bother me much. I'll go aboard and move my ship down river. Coming, Gordon?"

Gordon embraced Mrs. Goring again and kissed her, totally unembarrassed by Barry's presence, then followed the skipper out and down to the wharf. As they paddled out to the ship, Barry eyed the schooner narrowly but saw nothing unusual aboard her. He wondered about all those silent figures he had seen entering her hold the night before; but somehow in the past hour he had lost much of his interest in Leyden's ship. He felt a growing desire to get away out of the river into the clean salt ocean.

The Barang's crew had made great progress with their work; and Rolfe hailed as they approached the side to say that the ship was ready to drop down at high water. Out in midstream Bill Blunt and a boat's crew were returning after laying out an anchor to a great coir-fiber hawser, springy and stout, and a glance at the shores showed rapidly rising water.

"Get a strain on the hawser and keep taking in," ordered Barry as soon as he got on deck. "Gordon, if you want to harden up, take a handspike and have a turn at the capstan. Where's Little, Rolfe?"

"Little?" Jerry Rolfe looked alarmed. "I haven't seen Mr. Little since you went ashore, sir."

"I seen him a-swimmin' over by the schooner, awhile agone," remarked Blunt, bringing the boat painter aft to make the boat fast astern. "I thought he wuz goin' arter you, sir."

Barry suddenly renewed his interest in the Padang. Smothering a curse at Little's meddlesomeness, he snatched up his glasses and focussed them on the schooner. There was nothing to be seen out of the ordinary; but as he looked, that indescribable hum arose from her deck, and it intensified to a snarl. Then a flying figure appeared at the schooner's rail, and Little leaped over and into the yellow river with a yell.

As he struck the water, a shower of missiles followed him, and throwing clubs and short spears whizzed around his ears. He came up from his plunge into the midst of potent death, and with something like the cheery yell with which he had greeted the alligators, he took in a great breath and dived again, coming up the next time halfway to the Barang. So with successive plunges he approached, and after the second discharge of missiles from the schooner, he was permitted to reach his ship in peace. He clambered aboard, grinning sheepishly, and Barry met him with no word of praise, congratulation, or censure, but with a wide-open stare of fresh amazement.

"Who are they?" the skipper gasped.

"Cannibals, I think," grinned Little. "Am I all here?"

The schooner's rails were bare of heads again; but while Little was being bombarded, all eyes had stared wonderingly at a line of tufted headdresses surmounting faces belonging to inland savages.

"They're what I saw last night, going into the hold," said Barry. "But they didn't bother me, Little. How did you stir 'em up?"

"I don't know. I clambered aboard, thinking to find you there. I just took a peep down the hatchway and must have interrupted some ceremony. There was a white man powwowing to 'em—no, it wasn't Leyden—and one of 'em grunted when he saw me, and the white chap sicced 'em after me. Gosh! but I'm getting all the joy out o' life!"

"I've got all I want for the present," growled Barry sourly. "Perhaps I'll feel better out of sight of this post and that schooner."

"Not going to quit, are you?" Little gasped, staring at his friend with horror. "Is this the bold Jack Barry I picked out on the dock fer a partner?"

"Quit nothing! I'm going to see this thing through, but I'll follow Vandersee from now on. I wouldn't bother that schooner again on my own account for all the gold that ever came out of Celebes. If Leyden starts something, I'll meet him; but for my personal part he is welcome to keep what he's got aboard there."

In mid-forenoon the Barang yielded to the strain on her hawser and slid into deep water. A faint breeze downstream filled her sails, and slowly she swept around the bend out of sight of the post. Barry had watched the pilotage coming up, and conned his ship down with the knowledge gained, bringing up abreast of the swampy creek pointed out by Vandersee shortly after the noon meal. He stared at the place in doubt for a moment, then cried out to Little with utter relief.

"This is the first time I've felt easy in weeks! See that? Vandersee said he'd have the entrance cleared. It's like magic. You could float a thousand-tonner in there now!"

Vandersee had kept his word. The creek, which had been hidden behind a maze of swamp grass when the Barang entered the river, now lay fair and open, and a boat sent in to sound reported water enough for her full-load draft. And as the vessel was slowly warped in, two great mooring posts were found in the shore at precisely the best place for her to lay. Still there was no visible sign of the big Hollander himself.

"Come on down to the entrance awhile," said Barry to Gordon and Little, when the vessel was moored. "There must be somebody or something to give us a lead. We were never sent down here just to lie idle, and unless Leyden means to carry his schooner to sea with those cannibals as crew, she can't be ready to leave yet."

"I expect you know as much as I do, Barry," put in Gordon, "but it might help if I mentioned that news came down from Van last night that his men had got the opium chaps in a semicircle and were driving them quickly towards the river."

"Leyden, too?"

"I understand you saw Miss Sheldon on the schooner, Captain," replied Gordon.

"Oh, do cut out the riddles!" snapped Barry. "Can't you answer a straight question either? What has Miss Sheldon got to do with Leyden being driven this way?"

"He is not being driven. He's too smart for that. He is coming down of his own free will and will come the sooner because Miss Sheldon has accepted guest's quarters in his ship."

"Oh!"

Barry made no further remark but led the way back to the point where the main river rolled by in full sight. Both banks of the creek were rank with lush jungle; great, warped trees seemed to stagger, so gnarled were their trunks; while immense beards of moss depended from their hideous branches almost to the water. A sullen, ominous splash under the bank was sufficient warning against frivolous bathing.

They stood on a tiny patch of bare ground at the mouth of the creek and gazed far up and down the turbid stream, sending up its simmering steam under a hot sun, and evil with feverish reek. Little stood with his back to a lone tree in the bare patch of earth and pulled his hat over his eyes to shade them from the water's glare, and something touched him on the shoulder from above.

"Ouch!" he yelled, springing away in deadly fear of great serpents that roosted in such trees as that. He looked up, and his companions stared at him in amusement. And a long, lean, brown arm reached down, and in the skinny, black-nailed hand a stick was gripped,—a stick such as had once before been handed to Jerry Rolfe in the jungle.

"Big fella talk," came a thin voice from the tree limb. "Look-see. Me lookout."

Almost proof now against surprise, Barry took the stick and unrolled the leaf cover. It was a brief note, signed Vandersee, and read: "Leyden has learned my plans. He knows where you have laid your ship. Will attack you to-night with inland savages. Have no fear. I shall be close by. Halt Houten and take him on your ship."

Again that thin voice from the tree, and the long, skinny arm handed down a second stick, more bulky than the other.

"Gib to odder big fella. You no see. He for Missy Houten."

"Everything laid out like a stage set," chuckled Little. "We are surely horning in on the deep, deep stuff, skipper. I suppose Houten will drop in on us next, appearing out of a pink cloud, or something. Golly! Houten with cherub's wings riding down on a pink cloudlet!" he laughed outright. Cornelius Houten wasn't built for wings.

"Time enough when he comes, and it doesn't matter how," returned Barry. "Main thing is that at last there is something definite to do. Say—" he called into the tree—"suppose you see ship you tell me, hey? Suppose see big fella, allee same, hey?"

"Me here for dat, sar. You no bodder, Tuuan. I tell you."

The quiet, utterly unruffled, pipelike voice filled the three white men with confidence, and it was a new Jack Barry that led the way back to the ship and prepared her for defense against the promised attack. Little received the orders with his own matchless grin of boyish expectation; but Gordon's handsome face took on a look of serious purpose that gave deep thought to the skipper. And another surprise was in store for Barry, for Gordon suddenly gripped his hand, looked straight and hard into his eyes, and said with a depth of earnestness that thrilled:

"Here is to be the scene of such a retribution as will settle a dozen crimes in one. Now I can tell you, Barry, that your happiness is not lost, as you think. My own is so near that I must tell you this, for you have been such a good sport all through a maze of subterfuge that would easily have disgusted another man. Don't ask me more; but this much I tell you, so that you can make your plans with an easy mind."

"All right, Gordon," Barry laughed easily. "Thanks for the kind thought; but I have quit worrying over the future. At present I'm simply going to carry out orders and fight for my ship. I'll gladly find a good place for you if you'll tell me what you prefer—risk or safety."

"Safety? Say, Barry, I want to be placed, if possible, where I can do good work without getting popped off by some footling little arrow before the big game arrives. That's the only safety I want. I don't ask to be guarded even to secure that; but if I can keep on my feet until Vandersee comes, I'll die happy. That's how I feel."

"Vandersee? You mean Leyden, don't you?"

"Both. They'll get here together, skipper. Oh, I know."

"I see," returned Barry shortly, and set about his plans.

Bill Blunt was called into the consultation, for the old shellback had established his worth as a man of action. The Barang could muster sixteen men besides the skipper, mate, Little, Gordon, and Blunt,—twenty-one in all. And the surrounding land offered a vast and impenetrable concealment for foes from that side.

"An' that's whar she'll bust, genelmen," stated Blunt with decision. "Cos why? Y' see, I figgers as the only reason why they wants to bust us up at all in this yer crick is to stop up a-sailin' out an' ketchin' that schooner as she passes. Ain' that it, cap'n?"

"No doubt of it, Blunt."

"Well, then, if so be as it's inland savages as is to do it, they ain't werry fond o' water fightin', they ain't. Don't I know 'em? I tromped clear through their country afore the cap'n found me and I knows 'em like my own toes. Them ain't werry savage at that, gents. More 'n likely them is some o' Leyden's opium eaters, an' it'll take a hull dollop o' dope to make 'em fight at all—"

"By Heavens, I believe you've hit it!" Barry interrupted. "They can be set on us as the ship that has stopped their opium. And at the same time they may be left to fight until they drop, while Mr. Leyden is coolly getting away."

"He won't get away, Captain," put in Gordon quietly, "but your notion is right. It's exactly what Leyden is counting on, I'll wager a hat."

"Sure! That's why they are all on the schooner now!" cried Little. "Of course they chased me out, when I spied on 'em. Oh, Corks!"

"All right, then we'll haul out into the middle of the creek," decided Barry. "Rolfe, carry out a warp over there, and as soon as an alarm comes in, we'll haul her clear of the bank and fight 'em in the water. Blunt, rustle up all the arms and get plenty of rock ballast out of the hold too. Maybe we can save shells by dropping stones on 'em. Quieter, too."

Evening was drawing down when the preparations were completed, and an air of anxiety pervaded the decks; for the creek had become hushed and still, the jungle noises alone broke the stillness, and that medley of faint sound might easily conceal the whispering of a thousand men. Supper was eaten on deck, and Barry sent many an anxious glance towards the creek entrance, expecting at any moment to see the lookout approaching.

It was almost dark when at last he came running, and his thin voice piped: "Misser Houten he come, Tuuan. Come quick see!"

Barry leaped into his own boat, and she shot out of the creek into the river just as a big, seaworthy, fast launch hauled abreast. She was manned by half a dozen natives; but there was no mistaking that great, ungainly, shapeless figure in the stern, nor that immense, round, benevolent face that surmounted it. Barry sent his boat out to meet the launch, and Houten waved to his man to stop her. Then he suddenly recognized the skipper and stood up with incredible alertness.

"Hullo, Captain Barry," he rumbled, sticking out a hand like a ham. Barry slipped his message into it at the same instant as he grasped it, and swiftly followed his greeting with a statement of the Barang's situation. Meanwhile Houten read his message by the light of the setting sun.

"So!" he chuckled at length. "It is goot, Captain. I have a goot report about you, mine friendt. Come. We shall soon arrive at the big game, yes? Take you the wheel and guide us to your ship. It is long since we ate dinner. I am starved."

In this cool, matter-of-fact way did Cornelius Houten, the mammoth, benevolent human spider we saw for an instant in Batavia, accept a situation to which it had taken Jack Barry weeks to reconcile himself.

The launch slid alongside the brigantine, towing the rowboat, and Houten was landed on deck with much pulling and hauling that only evoked silent, shaky chuckles from his huge frame. Little met him and presented Gordon, then choked down a curse of self-censure for his thoughtlessness as he caught Barry's angry look. In the moment of greeting he had forgotten his own errand to the river; forgotten that it was a discredited Gordon he had been sent to find. But Cornelius Houten seemed to be of a kind with Vandersee in his uncanny knowledge of things. He simply gripped Gordon's reluctant hand and rumbled deeply, yet with a laugh running through the rumble: "Goot, Mister Gordon. I am glad to see you loog so well. I have heard aboudt you. It is goot. Now gif me some food in my hand and we shall see what dose leedle native mans will do mit us."

The darkness became black, and still the jungle gave out no sounds beyond its own. Houten walked the deck with Barry, his great paws full of cold food, chuckling and rumbling incessantly. His beady eyes roved keenly around the wall of darkness, his nose sniffed the air as if he could scent the presence of foes.

Yet nothing occurred for an hour after the light failed. The sentries around the rails kept trying all the lines to the shore, in hope of surprising some such method of attack. Barry and Little listened intently in expectation of hearing some signal from the lookout in the tree at the creek mouth. No sight, no sound. Then, swift as darting serpents, rivulets of flame ran over the water, and the entire creek soon blazed into hellish radiance. Shrieks and howls resounded on the shores, and a shower of arrows flew over the brightly illumined decks.

"Ach! I am a fool!" grunted Houten. An arrow stuck in his fat arm, pinching up an inch of his plenteous flesh. Coolly as he might pare his nails, he broke off the slender shaft, pulled out the head where it emerged from his skin, and held out his arm and handkerchief to Gordon, who expertly bound up the profusely bleeding but harmless flesh wound. Houten grumbled on: "All the time I schmell him—schmell dot stuff—und I know not enough to say it is oil! My own oil, I will bet, by der Great Horn Spoon! Me, I t'ink dot schmell was joongle, by Gott!"

"Haul in all lines!" roared Barry. "Rolfe, hustle up all the spare junk and sand. Lads, keep under cover until I call you out."

All around the ship the water glared with Satanic fires. The blazing oil roared and leaped hungrily at the Barang's tarred sides.