The castaways watched the distant sail with mingled feelings of joy and suspense. Was it the boys, or was it merely a strange craft beating up the coast? Would it pass near the island or would it go by too far out for them to make their presence known? These were the questions they debated as they strained their eyes on the distant patch of white.

One thing soon became evident to the eager watchers, the sail was steadily growing larger. Although the storm had passed and the sea subsided there was still a brisk breeze blowing and each passing hour brought the stranger craft visibly nearer. No thought of breakfast entered the castaways' minds, all their attention was fixed on the approaching sail.

At last it became evident that the vessel was a small sloop, that it was headed directly for the island and that it was rolling and pitching frightfully in the still heavy seas.

On it came, plunging and tossing like a frightened steed and sending showers of spray from its cut water. At last it was close enough to discover two figures on its decks, one at the wheel, the other forward, tending the jib sheet.

"Hit's Massa Charley and Massa Walter," shouted the sharp-eyed Chris. "Praise de Lawd, Praise de Lawd," and his over-joyed companions shouted a fervent "Amen."

The sloop came steadily on, passing the island and rounding up under its lee as near as its young captain dared to approach. Anchor was dropped, sails lowered, and launching a small boat it carried on deck, its crew of two came sculling for the shore.

And what a demonstration of joy there was when it grounded on the sands and the chums so long separated and so long beset with perils were once more reunited. Such hand-wringings and congratulations, and eager questions and chorused answers. All happy. All excited. All talking at once, and no one making himself thoroughly understood in the general clamor.

But Charley soon interrupted the talk-feast. "We will be here all day at this rate," he said, laughing. "We had better get on board and get under way. That sloop is pretty old and cranky for these waters and we'd better get back as soon as we can for fear another squall will come up. We can tell our stories on the way."

The suggestion was wise and as none cared to linger long on the dreary little island which had been the scene of so much anxiety and suffering, there was no delay in carrying it out. All climbed into the little boat and were carried out to the sloop. Her sails were hoisted, her anchor weighed, and her bowsprit headed South for Tarpon. Down in the sloop's cabin the castaways found a hot meal of ham, eggs, potatoes and coffee waiting for them, which Walter had prepared as a pleasant surprise. In their excitement they had forgotten they were hungry, but they remembered it now and fell upon the tasty food with appetites that only left bare dishes when satisfied, at last. The boys had brought a pile of clothing with them, and after a wash-down in cool sea water, the castaways threw away their soiled, tattered garments, and, fed, washed, and freshly clothed, felt like new men.

The Captain's eyes danced with joy when Walter presented him with a pipe and tobacco he had brought with him.

Later all gathered around the wheel and stories and experiences were exchanged, but the reader is already familiar with the most of them.

"Even after the trouble was all over we couldn't get away at once," Charley said, concluding his tale. "I can tell you we were worried to have to lay around and wait for the storm to pass, knowing that you and Chris must be in danger on the island. The people were awfully good to us after the feud was ended. They could not do enough for us. They even wanted to give us money, but of course we couldn't take that. As soon as the wind went down we borrowed this boat of Mr. Turner and started out. We are to leave her at Tarpon and he will get her from there."

"Well, all's well that ends well, I reckon," said the captain, puffing in supreme content. "We are safe an' well now an' while we ain't got much money, we will have the 'Beauty' as soon as she comes into port, an' she's jes' the same as two thousand dollars in the bank."

"And we will have another try for that gold when we get her," Charley declared. "I figure that those fellows had to cast loose during the storm and scud before it. They could not ride it out at anchor. Now that the buoy's gone, it will take them a long time to locate the gold again. We, knowing the latitude and longitude can get back to the spot before they can find it and get all the gold removed, if we can get a revenue cutter at Tarpon, as I think we can."

The Captain's face was filled with dismay. "I've clean forgot the figures, boys," he exclaimed. "I put it down in the log all ship-shape, the latitude and longitude, but I've clean forgot what it was. I ain't got no memory for figures."

It was a heavy blow for the golden-hopes of the two boys and a silence of disappointment followed the old sailor's announcement.

"It's no use crying over spilt milk," said Charley, at last, cheerfully. "We have still got the schooner, and, with the money we get from her, we can make a good start at something else."

"You have still good cause for rejoicing," observed the sponger captain. "You will still have your vessel, but I have lost my all."

The two chums were not the boys to give way to repining and they were soon again as bright and cheerful spirits as if their brightest hopes had been realized.

It was midnight when the little sloop at last crept into the harbor of Tarpon. It was useless to go ashore at such an hour so the little party made everything snug aboard and turned in on deck for a few hours' sleep.

They were up early next morning, and, after a hasty breakfast, hurried ashore to notify the Commissioner of their arrival and get him to take steps for the seizure of the "Beauty" as soon as she reached port.

Mr. Driver was standing out in front of his store as they came up the street. Amazement and incredulity filled his face when he sighted them.

"You!" he cried, "Why, I thought you were all at the bottom of the Gulf."

"No, we are slightly disfigured but still in the ring," laughed Charley as he shook hands. "Our schooner has not come in yet, has she?"

Mr. Driver stared at him for a second. "There's a mystery here," he declared. "Come on into the store, and let's hear your story."

Seated in the store's little back room, Charley recounted their adventures while Mr. Driver listened attentively. When he had concluded, Mr. Driver remained silent for a moment.

"I hate to be the teller of bad news," he said, at last, "but you must learn it, and it had better come from a friend. Your schooner is lost with all hands on board."

"Lost!" cried all together.

"Yes, she went down at anchor during the storm. The Greek sponger 'Zenephone' was passing when she went under. Not a man was saved. Every one on the 'Zenephone' wondered why she did not scud before it instead of hanging to her anchor. I understand now. They did not want to leave the neighborhood of the gold."

It was a heavy blow. At one sweep they were robbed of their all. The little band of chums sat paralyzed with grief, looking helplessly at each other. Mr. Driver arose quietly and closed the door softly behind him, leaving them alone with their grief.

For a few moments no one spoke. "It's hard, but it must be met," sighed Walter at last. "What are we going to do? We have nothing left now, not even the clothes we wear."

"God knows," answered Charley, hopelessly, at a loss for once. "I suppose we will have to hunt work at something or other."

"And likely be scattered and separated for the first time in years," exclaimed the captain.

"That's the worst of it," agreed Walter, sadly. "I don't mind working but I hate for us all to have to drift apart."

"Me too," wailed Chris. "Golly! I don't want to be with no one but you-alls."

"I don't believe the 'Beauty' is lost," Charley declared. "I believe this is just another of Manuel's tricks. He is as sharp a rascal as ever lived. I'll bet she is safe and sound somewhere and that Manuel just bought the Greeks on the 'Zenephone' to tell that story."

"Maybe," admitted the captain, doubtfully. "The story rings true, though. It would have been likely for them to hang to their anchor by the gold."

"And it would be just the kind of details Manuel would think of, knowing we would be more likely to believe the story if we escaped alive. He is an artist at rascality."

"Even if you're right, I reckon it won't help us much," said the old sailor. "The story's tied our hands all right. The Commissioner won't do anything just on our suspicions, an' we ain't got any money to do anything ourselves."

"I feel that Charley is right," Walter declared, "but we've got only one chance to prove it. Get to work, get some money and hire a Greek detective to look into the matter for us. The first question is, what can we do to earn money?"

They were engaged in a fruitless discussion on this point when Mr. Driver entered. He heard their discussion with sympathetic interest.

"There is no work around here," he declared. "The Greeks work cheaper than an American can. It's hard for an American to earn a bare living here. I understand from what you say that you do not want to be separated. I might find work for one of you, but I couldn't for all. There is only one suggestion I can make in such a case."

"Please give it to us," Walter requested.