Trask was up at dawn, and slipping out on deck, saw Jarrow sitting on the forecastle head, drinking coffee, a plate of biscuits beside him, while he kept watch on the island.

Doc stuck his head out of the galley. "Coffee, Mr. Trask?" he called, cautiously.

Trask went back and stood in the door while he scanned the shore of the island. The sun had come out of the sea, red and bleary, and from the jungle came the calls of birds and the shrill cry of a parrot evidently in distress about something in the brush.

There was not a sign of the dinghy. The schooner lay still in a pool of colourful water, the coral and weeds on the bottom in plain view, some of the swaying plants magnified by refraction. There was no air stirring, and from the far end of the island a morning haze was rising like smoke from flats which appeared to be salt marshes.

Trask filled the basin at the water butt and washed his sticky face. Doc, who evidently was astir before the cook, became emboldened by the fact that Trask was up, and rattled the dishes in the galley with recklessness. Trask cautioned him when he came out with the cup and proffered the impromptu breakfast.

"Have you heard anything?" he asked, as the steward stood beside him, loath to go back to his duties.

"Me? Lordy, no, Mr. Trask! We been just lak' a buryin' ground! It gives me the creeps to have things so daid."

"Seen anything of the boat?"

"Boat?" Doc rolled his eyes, puzzled.

"Go in and get breakfast," said Trask, passing the cup back, and went along forward to learn what Jarrow had to report.

"Not a sight of 'em," said the captain, who appeared to be as fresh as if he had slept all night.

"That's queer," said Trask. "I thought they'd try to sneak back during the night. What can they be up to? You don't think they've abandoned us entirely?"

"Now ye got me," said Jarrow. "I guess Peth's crazy in his head. He's got 'em all buggy on this gold business, far's I can see. All right, let 'em stick to Peth."

"But they'll starve," said Trask. "Suppose they did find gold in piles? What good would it do them? They'd have to beg to be taken back aboard here, wouldn't they?"

Jarrow blew into his coffee, gulped some of it, and raised his eyes in utter dejection to look over at the island. The schooner lay with her head to the northeast in response to a current that came around the northern end of the island and almost parallel with it.

"When people are out of their heads, no knowin' what they'll do," declared Jarrow. "Peth, he's always for makin' money in heaps. He can't see beyond his nose. Now I'm for goin' safe and sure. You ain't got no idea how he's bothered me off and on for the last couple years. But I had to humour him—he owns an eighth of the Nuestra."

"He can't have much sense if he thinks gold's to be sacked up and carted away," said Trask. "Here's Mr. Locke."

"Looks like this ought to be a good place to fish," said Locke, coming forward. He was wearing an old suit of white, but had on tan shoes, as if he expected to go walking, and a shirt open at the neck. His nose was peeled from sunburn, and he stroked it gently.

"What's going on?" he demanded, seeing that Jarrow and Trask were serious-faced, each waiting for the other to speak. He looked about the decks questioningly.

"The devil to pay," said Jarrow.

"Crew's gone," said Trask.

"Crew! Gone! Where?"

"Jumped the ship in the night with the dinghy," said Jarrow.

"Say, what's the joke?" inquired Locke, blankly. "You two look as though there was to be a hanging. Come on—spring it!"

"I wish it were a joke," said Trask.

"The truth is, Mr. Peth and the crew left last night with the small boat."

"Gone to a dance, or something, I suppose," said Locke, still in doubt about the motives of the captain and Trask.

"Maybe," said Jarrow, wearily rising, to yawn into the sun's face.

Locke stared at Trask, and finally realized that he was serious. "Gone to the island?" he asked.

"Mainland's over there," said Jarrow, turning and pointing over the starboard quarter. "You got two guesses. I'll bet on the island."

Trask now looked in the direction indicated by the captain and saw a low-lying ridge, barely perceptible in the morning sun, lifting out of the horizon. It was merely a dark streak against the edge of the sea's brilliance, dividing sky and water.

"Well, that's a fine note," said Locke. "What do they think they're getting paid for? To go away on marine picnics?"

"If they come lookin' for pay, we're lucky," said Jarrow.

"Now, captain, let's get down to cases," began Locke, with a look at Trask which indicated that he was done with temporizing with Jarrow. "What are you going to do?"

Jarrow looked at him quickly, as if surprised, and made a grimace.

"What do ye expect me to do?" he demanded, with a show of temper in his voice.

"We'll start for Manila in an hour unless the crew's back aboard. Can't you give 'em a signal of some sort?"

"Sure," said Jarrow. "I can run the Blue Peter to the fore truck. I'm ready to go now—if you'll start whistlin' for a wind." He wet the tip of his finger on his tongue and held it up.

"You take it all-fired calm," said Locke. "What's the idea? Are you going to sit down and wait for the crew to make up their minds to work?"

"They've probably gone to the island to find gold," said Trask, who realized that Locke had not grasped the situation fully. "It looks as if they won't attempt to come back."

"Oh, that's the game, is it?"

"Looks like it," said Jarrow.

"Very well," said Locke, grimly. "I'll look to you, Captain Jarrow, to carry out the terms of our agreement."

"What ye drivin' at?" demanded Jarrow.

"This: Your pay by the day for schooner and crew is for a definite purpose—to visit this island for exploration purposes, and to have in our employ a certain number of men. If we have to go back to Manila without accomplishing the business, or lie around waiting on the crew, it'll be out of your pocket. It's up to you, captain."

"You say I don't git no money at all if we have to go back?" Jarrow's colour heightened, and his eyes flashed angrily, but he held a certain restraint over his voice.

"What I say and what I mean."

"There ain't no law that compels a master to guarantee against mutiny," said Jarrow, and began to chew a biscuit reflectively.

"Mutiny!"

"My mates have jumped ship with the crew. That's mutiny."

"You expect them to make trouble for us?"

"I look for anything with that gang," said Jarrow. "Peth he's a bad one when he gits started. So are all them chaps with him. But as I see it, they'll be back here in no time. If they don't find gold we'll have 'em back on our hands. So there ain't no great hurt done."

"But if they do find gold?" suggested Locke.

"They might walk on gold and not know it," said Trask. "If they are looking for a fortune in fifteen minutes, I doubt if they'll find it, and they'll like the looks of this schooner pretty well."

"My idea exactly," said Jarrow, with a grin. "We might as well take this as a joke. If they ain't back by the time we have breakfast, I'll take a run over to shore in the long boat and see 'bout huntin' 'em up. You folks go aft, and let me handle it. I'll see it smoothed over. We don't want to start back for Manila short-handed if we can help it. What's the odds, if they are a passel o' fools?"

"Perhaps you're right," said Locke. "It wouldn't look very well for us if we went back to Manila and left them here."

"I'll tell you what you do, captain," said Trask. "Take a run ashore, as you said, and bring me back a bucket of that sand."

"I thought yould like to go over with me," said Jarrow.

"No, I'll stick by the schooner until this hitch with the crew is straightened out."

"Maybe Mr. Locke'll want to go?"

"Not for me," said Locke. "Marjorie'll want to go when I do, and I don't want to have anything said about what's turned up. You take Dinshaw."

"I'll need two men to row," objected Jarrow. "I might take the old fellow and the cook."

"We'll keep the cook," said Trask. "We can spare Doc Bird better."

Jarrow agreed, and suggested that he start at once, so Doc Bird was called and told to summon Dinshaw, and they set about throwing off the gripes of the waist boat and got it over the side with jury tackle in short order.

"I'll take a look about and see if we can find where they made a landin'," said Jarrow.

"You'd better come right back, this trip," said Trask. "It's important that I get some of that sand under the microscope or cook a little of it."

"Cook it?" asked Jarrow, puzzled.

"Certainly. I'll be able to tell in fifteen minutes whether there's a sign of gold on that beach."

Dinshaw came out, in great glee over an immediate landing on his island, and could scarcely be restrained from climbing over the side and into the boat long enough to have his coffee.

As the final preparations were being made for the departure of the boat, Marjorie appeared, clad in khaki, with a short skirt and heavy shoes.

"I'm all ready," she cried, thinking that everybody was embarking.

"We're not going yet," said Locke. "The crew's ashore, and the captain's going to do a little reconnoitering before we leave the schooner. We'll go right after breakfast, though, if everything's all right."

Doc was all agrin, and regarded the early trip ashore in the nature of a lark, and cast aside his white coat, to help row in his resplendent sweater, while the cook went about laying the table for breakfast, his round yellow face devoid of any interest in what was going on.

It was decided that Dinshaw should steer, which tickled him mightily, and Captain Jarrow plied an oar himself.

"Keep a good look-out," warned Jarrow, as they shoved off and began to pull toward the land.

"You bet we will," said Trask, gaily. "Don't go above high-water mark for that sand, but fill the bucket from any dark spots you can find."

"Captain Dinshaw'll simply die of joy," said Marjorie. "I'd hoped we might all go together and see him land."

"You'd better put your hat on, Marge, or you'll have a skinned nose," said her father. "We'll be right in to breakfast."

"There's some hocus-pocus about this," whispered Trask, as he and Locke moved forward for a private talk.

"What do you make of it?"

"Jarrow's in on the deal with the crew. That's why I wanted him out of the way for awhile so we could figure things out. I believe that Dinshaw did hear them say they intended to steal his island. Peth or Jarrow got my gun, but Jarrow thinks we've three more between us. I told him last night you had two. He wants to get us separated."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Locke, aghast. "You can't mean they want to put us out of the way!"

"I wish I knew what they wanted to do," said Trask, speaking rapidly, and keeping his eyes on the boat which was making good headway toward the shore. "But I believe we're in serious danger, and I don't see now what's to be done."

"Jarrow is a fool," said Locke.

"More of a rogue. He's far more clever than we realize. I'm sure now he signalled to Peth last night with the lantern, when I was out here trying to see what the crew were about with the dinghy."

"Then you knew it last night?"

"Yes. I found Jarrow out here on the forecastle head. First he lit a cigar, which I suspect was a caution, then he shook the lantern, probably to indicate that their absence was discovered, and then he put the lantern out. He said it was so they couldn't find their way back in the dark, but now I'm sure it indicated that not only was the party known to be gone, but that their motives were suspected. What's more, I'm sure he's had Doc Bird spying on us—at least on me. Just as sure as I move that black is at my heels, as full of questions as a rose is of thorns. We want to be mighty careful with the cook, too."

"We're sure in a pickle," said Locke. "If there were any wind I'd be for getting out now and leaving Jarrow and all hands."

"My idea, too. But you'll notice he has the schooner well in behind the barrier reef, and unless we had a ripping good breeze, we'd pile up, or one of the boats would overtake us before we'd have the jib set. Of course, if we got out, it would be easy enough to make for the mainland, or with good weather keep down the coast until we reached some town or came up with some vessel. But as it stands, we've got to play the game out with Jarrow."

"What the dickens he expects to do, or make out of this sort of performing is beyond me," said Locke.

"Probably find a lot of gold and send us back to Manila in the hope of cheating Dinshaw out of it. I expect they'll be disappointed if it's gold in any great quantity they're after."

"But why should he and Peth be plotting together when they're at outs?" asked Locke.

"It may be that Jarrow favours Peth's scheme, and now wants to get in with him. I don't doubt they could make up their differences if it came to a question of hoodwinking us."

"Oh, sure. I don't know whether this is all funny or dangerous but we seem to be in the hands of a lot of fools, and that's no joke. If it wasn't for Marge, I wouldn't worry."

"Dad! Aren't you two coming to breakfast?" Marjorie called from the door of the cabin, and then seeing the boat approaching the shore, went to the bulwark and watched them make a landing.

They saw Doc jump out and pull the boat up on the shingle a few feet, and Jarrow hopped out after him. Dinshaw could be seen crawling forward, and went into the water up to his knees and ran up the beach to fall forward and plunge both hands into the sand in an ecstasy of joy. Those in the schooner could hear his high-pitched voice as he cackled gleefully.

Then they saw him talking with Jarrow, and pointing to seaward over the reef, and evidently going over the details of how he came ashore from the Wetherall, and where the bark struck.

Doc stood near by, listening, and kicking the sand with one foot. Jarrow made a gesture to him, and the steward went back to the boat and brought a bucket, which he began to fill with sand close to the water's edge.

Jarrow put his hands up to his face, to make a trumpet, and called loudly for "Mr. Peth" several times. His voice was thrown back from the hill over the water in long-drawn echoes that died away in the murmur of the gentle surf breaking on the other side of the point and along the backbone of the main reef.

"For all the world like paging a gorilla," chuckled Locke. They went aft and stood by Marjorie, and Shanghai Tom looked out from the cabin door, white-capped and white-aproned, and a trifle bored.

Jarrow moved up nearer the rim of the jungle, and was rendered almost invisible to those on the schooner against the glittering white sand.

Doc put his bucket in the boat, and stood by the bow, looking after the captain. Once he turned toward the schooner, and waved his hand. Dinshaw was moving toward the point slowly, head bent, making a careful examination of the shore, stooping now and then to pick up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers.

"Look—over beyond Captain Dinshaw—in the brush!" said Marjorie, pointing.

A figure in blue emerged cautiously from the tangle of green shrubbery some hundred yards to the right of Jarrow—Peth, in a suit of dungarees. He stepped out into the sand and stood with his arms akimbo, watching Jarrow, who was looking in the other direction.

Presently Jarrow turned and saw Peth, and started toward him slowly, apparently in some doubt as to the attitude of the mate toward him. When he had advanced to within twenty feet of Peth he stopped, and from his gestures, he seemed to be talking. At times he looked over his shoulder toward Dinshaw, and pointed out to the schooner as if ordering the mate to return on board.

Peth kicked the sand but made no move to obey. Jarrow drew nearer, and his hands became more eloquent, as if he were arguing with Peth to bring the crew back and return to duty. Dinshaw, now well up to the point, went on with his explorations, and gave no heed to Jarrow and Peth, if, indeed, he had seen them at all.

Jarrow turned to the shore and called something, and Doc went across and stood near by while the pair continued their conversation. Dinshaw heard the summons, and looked back, but had no interest in what was going on, for he resumed his trudging, stopping frequently to look about him as if searching for some landmark.

The parley between Peth and Jarrow lasted several minutes, and then other heads and shoulders appeared in the brush, peering out. Jarrow's voice, raised threateningly, reached those in the schooner in a rumbling sort of growl, although they could not distinguish his words. He appeared to be exasperated that his crew should stand about in the jungle and refuse to obey his orders.

Finally Jarrow waved his hand to Doc, and turned to follow the steward, when Peth ran forward, and stepped between Jarrow and Doc. He whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the captain.

The others came out of the brush at this, and Doc took to his heels, running for the boat like a deer.

Jarrow put his hands up, and roared out something angrily to the effect that he'd "settle this business if it cost him his life," and as the crew closed in around him he shouted wildly toward the schooner: "Mutiny! Mutiny!"

Doc reached the long boat and making frantic efforts to push it off finally got it afloat, and with an oar shoved it into deep water and began to scull it out rapidly, making a zigzag course for the schooner.

"Can you beat it?" demanded Locke. "They've taken Jarrow prisoner! Now we are in for it!"