Dan Frazier came to himself with the message from the ventilator pipe surging in his confused brain. The Bahama wreckers were going to blow up the ship. "A ten-minute fuse," he whispered as he began to crawl forward to escape from the hold. How long had he been unconscious? The explosion might come on the next instant. Dan was afraid to face "Black Sam" Hurley and his lawless crew, but he was far more afraid to stay below. His only thought was to gain the upper deck and jump overboard in the hope that the wreckers might pick him up. Fear gave him strength for the journey, fear such as he had never known before.

Losing his bearings in his headlong panic, Dan turned toward the side of the ship, for he had not delayed to relight his lantern. A little way in front of him a red spark glowed and sputtered. It burned a hole in the gloom, and Dan stood stock-still and stared as if fascinated. It was the fuse of the charge of powder. He wanted to run away from it but his legs refused to carry him.

When he moved, it was not in flight but straight toward the sputtering slow-match. It was not in the least a conscious act of bravery. Dan felt sure that he could not regain the upper deck before the explosion tore him to pieces. He turned at bay to fight for his life with the instinct of a hunted animal.

Springing toward the terrible, winking spark with his fists doubled as if to ward off an attack, Dan struck at it, tore the trailing fuse free from its fastening, trampled it under his feet, and pulled it to bits after the fire was dead. The explosive itself was also an enemy which he must destroy. As if he were in a delirium, Dan whipped out his knife, cut the lashing of the sack of powder, and dragged it after him in his retreat. He came to a hatchway, let the sack drop, and heard it splash in the water which flooded the lower hold. Then he clawed his way toward daylight.

Dan no longer cared whether the wreckers saw him or not. No danger could have forced him down into the hold of the ship again. It was a place filled with horrors. When he came out into the sunshine and wind it was a kindly chance which made him lie down in a corner of the deck that was screened from sight of the wreckers' schooners. Dan had forgotten all about them. He had come to the end of his rope, and all he could think of was, "I want to go home. I want to go home."

"Black Sam" Hurley was impatiently awaiting the explosion which should tear a gap in the Kenilworth's side and allow his greedy wreckers to begin operations. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, and there was a great hubbub on board the Bahama schooners tossing at a safe distance from the steamer. At the end of half an hour "Black Sam" ordered a boat away and the crew crowded in pell-mell. They boarded the lee side of the Kenilworth with the agility of monkeys and their bare feet slapped the deck as they ran to the hatch.

Dan heard them and realized that he must try to find a resting-place where they would not discover him upon their return from below. He might perhaps be unseen if he took refuge on the bridge which the wreckers were not likely to ransack until later. He managed to drag his aching, weary body forward and laid down on the mattress behind the canvas weather screen. After a few minutes he heard the wreckers come boiling out of the hold with cries of amazement, anger, and fear. They had expected to find a faulty fuse, but fuse, powder, and all had vanished. Some of them swore the ship was haunted and refused to have anything to do with fetching another sack of powder. Their leader bellowed and threatened, but he could not quell the riot. At last he yelled that he would lay the second charge himself and stay aboard if he blew up with it. Scoffing at the idea of ghostly interference, he ordered his men to search the ship.

These plans were suddenly knocked all askew. Shouting arose on board the schooners whose crews were waving their arms toward the north. The wreckers on the steamer rushed to the side and discovered the cause of alarm. The funnel and upper works of a tug were lifting from the sea, beneath a trailing banner of smoke. Dan had been watching the scene on deck with absorbed attention, and as he looked seaward and caught sight of the tug his heart stood still. He squinted through the glasses. There were two white bands around the funnel. Could it be the Three Sisters of Jacksonville, the big wrecking tug of which Captain Jim's cousin was master? The streaked smoke-stack and the stubby derrick-masts—the drab wheel-house—yes, these were things which Dan remembered noticing when the tug was in Key West. And Captain Jim must be in her. She was hurrying to find out what had become of the Kenilworth. "Perhaps they are looking for me," thought Dan. "And I'm still wrecking master if 'Black Sam' doesn't see me first."

The Bahama wreckers were very busy with their own affairs. The sight of the on-coming tug had altered their campaign in a twinkling. "Black Sam" was now determined to keep possession of the wreck at all hazards, acting on the theory that he was the wrecking master by the law of the Reef. He told his men to stay where they were and slid down the side of the steamer to pull off to the schooners and muster reinforcements. A score of stalwart negroes rallied to his summons and tumbled into their boats.

A picturesque and piratical looking force they were as they scrambled over the Kenilworth's bulwarks and scattered along her sea-scarred decks. "Black Sam" showed his teeth in a snarl as he yelled to them:

"Dey ain't gwine be no argifying 'bout dis yere wreck. We'se heah an' we stay heah. If dem tow-boat folks tries to come aboard, keep 'em busy wid dem belaying-pins yondah an' yo' knives—yo' heah me?"

The Three Sisters was rapidly nearing the scene. From his ambush Dan watched her with yearning, happy eyes. He was not yet out of trouble, but Captain Jim would somehow rescue him in the nick of time. He saw the powerful tug sweep around to leeward of the Bahama schooners and slow down as if her people were trying to fathom the situation. Captain Jim Wetherly was standing by the wheel-house door, shading his eyes with his hand. Dan wanted to call to him, but he dared not show himself. The tug crept nearer, and Dan rejoiced to discover that most of the Resolute's crew were clustered along the lower deck, including the portly chief engineer, Bill McKnight, who loomed like a whale among minnows.

Presently Captain Jim sung out:

"What are you Bahama niggers doing aboard that steamer? She belongs to me. I had hold of her once and am in charge of wrecking her. Clear out before I put my men aboard."

A row of black heads bobbed in violent agitation along the Kenilworth's bulwarks, and "Black Sam" Hurley shouted back with a loud laugh:

"Go back home, white man. We foun' dis yere wreck 'bandoned. I'se wreckin' marster—yo' heah me? If you all wants her, come aboard an' take her."

Dan saw Bill McKnight waddle aft in great haste, dive into his room, and beckon to a Resolute deck-hand. Presently the two reappeared dragging a long, heavy box which the engineer began to break open with furious blows of a hatchet.

"It's the case of Mauser rifles Bill stowed away from the last filibustering cargo he ran over to Cuba," murmured Dan. "He said he was saving 'em to start another revolution with. Hooray! hooray! there'll be something doing."

Bill McKnight was passing the rifles out to the eager crew of the Resolute who looked as if they were about to earn their passage aboard the Three Sisters. Captain Jim made one jump from the upper deck, without delaying to find the stairway, and caught up a rifle and a handful of cartridges. Once more he shouted to the wreckers on the Kenilworth:

"If you want trouble we'll give you plenty. Are you coming off?"

"We ain't scared by dem guns," yelled "Black Sam." "You ain't got no rights in dis vessel. You all don't dare to do no shootin'."

"I've got the underwriter's agent aboard this tug, and he knows the facts," returned Captain Jim. "You are pirates and I intend to have no monkey-business. I know all about you, Sam Hurley."

"Show yo' claim on dis wreck. We'se heah. You ain't," replied the negro.

Dan could hold in no longer. He poked his head above the canvas screen of the bridge, waved both arms over his head, and yelled at the top of his voice:

"You bet we're here, Uncle Jim. And I'm wrecking master and it is your job."

The men on the Three Sisters dropped their rifles and stared in silence, with mouths agape. It was a voice and a vision from the dead. "Black Sam" and his wreckers stood poised in their various threatening attitudes as if petrified. It was a strange tableau. If Dan had hopped off a passing cloud he could not have caused a more breathless sensation. The spell which his appearance cast on all who beheld him was broken by the jubilant voice of Captain Jim:

"It's Dan Frazier sure enough. Thank God you're alive and kicking, boy. Captain Bruce reported you drowned, and nobody's dared to tell your mother till I could get out to the wreck. Hold your nerve. We're coming after you."

The words awoke "Black Sam" Hurley to swift action. He was beside himself with rage at the boy on the steamer's bridge who had spoiled the explosion and then made a jest of his claims as wrecking-master. The desperate negro had only one idea in his head—to square matters by getting his hands on Dan. He ran toward the bridge with several of his men at his heels, and Dan hastily climbed on the rail ready to jump overboard as the only way of escape. But before the wreckers had gained his refuge, he heard Captain Jim cry:

"Hold on, Dan. Don't jump. Duck and lie flat where you are."

The boy flopped full length on the bridge an instant before several rifles barked on the Three Sisters and bullets came singing over the Kenilworth. The wreckers halted, huddled in confusion, and ran for the shelter of the nearest deck-house. "Black Sam" delayed to hurl an iron belaying-pin at Dan's head and paid dearly for the act. It was Bill McKnight who drove a bullet through his arm and made him fly for cover with blood trickling from his fingers. Then the clarion tones of the fat chief engineer sounded across the water as if he had taken full command of the expedition:

"Half a dozen of you men stay here to sweep the Kenilworth's bulwarks with your guns and give us a chance to climb over. The rest follow me to board her. A la machete! Out cutlasses. Viva Cuba! Hip, hip, hooroo!"

Two boats were fairly thrown into the water from the Three Sisters and the cheering Resolutes fell into them, grabbing capstan bars and coal shovels, or clubbing their rifles. The Bahama wreckers had no intention of being driven from their prize without making a fight for it. Several of them pulled revolvers from inside their shirts and popped wildly away at the approaching boats while "Black Sam" led a crowd of his followers behind the tall bulwark where they crouched, sheltered from rifle fire, and ready to receive the boarders as they came over the side. Captain Jim was in the bow of one boat, the chief engineer in the other. The wreckers had been unable to cut away the dangling boat ropes and bowlines by which they had climbed on board, and the attacking party ascended like so many acrobats. Bill McKnight was boosted and hauled part way, but as soon as he found a secure purchase for his fingers and toes, he dove over the bulwark like a landslide and pranced into action like a cyclone.

It was a pretty bit of old-fashioned boarding for the prosaic twentieth century. The Resolutes suffered some cracked heads and bloody faces before they gained foothold and swept forward. Try as he would, Captain Jim could not keep the terrific pace set by Bill McKnight who was swinging his rifle like a flail and clearing a wide path while he grunted maledictions at the foe.

It was a pretty bit of old-fashioned boarding for the prosaic
twentieth century

"You're blockin' my way, you google-eyed thief. Bing! there's one on the cocoanut," he panted with a cheerful grin as he smote a stalwart wrecker and sent him spinning.

"We're a-coming, Dan. Keep your reserved seat," he bellowed to the bridge as he wiped the sweat from his eyes. "Black Sam's" men could not withstand the determined and disciplined onslaught and began to leap overboard, plop! plop! into the green sea over which the boats from their schooners were racing to pick them up. Only their leader stayed behind, sullenly nursing his wounded arm. Captain Jim halted long enough to tell him:

"My men will take you aboard the tug and patch you up from my medicine chest. Then you'd better make sail for home. The Reef isn't healthy for your breed of Nassau wreckers. Better pass the word among your friends."

Then Captain Jim ran to the bridge, but Bill McKnight was already hugging Dan and fairly blubbering over him. The boy was too weak to struggle out of this crushing embrace, but he waggled a free hand to Captain Jim and stammered:

"W-wow, ouch. Glad to see you aboard."

"Glad to see us aboard, you rascal," laughed his uncle as he yanked the engineer away and thumped Dan on the back. "Well, we're tickled to death to see you aboard. How in the—, of all the— Whew, what are you doing here anyhow, Dan?"

His nephew made a brave attempt to answer him. Now was the time to play the hero, to tell how he had stuck to the ship and saved her. But Dan Frazier was no hero. He was just a stout-hearted lad who had weathered one cruel ordeal after another with the Almighty's aid, and he had hung on to himself as long as he could. Now there was no more call for courage. He was safe and the ship had been restored to Uncle Jim. Tears streamed down Dan's face and he swayed against Bill McKnight who put a steadying arm around him.

"I—I'm just tired out, I—I guess," he sobbed. "Please take me home, Uncle Jim. I—I want my mother."

Bill McKnight coughed and wiped his eyes as he lifted Dan's feet clear of the deck, while Captain Jim lent his sturdy arms to the task of carrying the boy to the ship's side and lowering him into a boat. They got him aboard the Three Sisters without mishap, took off his tattered, grimy clothing, and tucked him in the captain's bunk.

"The boy is bruised and scratched from head to foot," said the master of the tug, Captain Jim's cousin. "We'd better sponge him down with hot water and arnica. He must have had a tougher time of it than most grown men could live through, Jim. See here, these are fresh burns on his hands. Now, where did he get those?"

"The Lord only knows," said Captain Jim as he patted Dan's flushed cheek. "Don't pester him with questions now. He's got some fever and his eyes look bad to me. I'm going to leave McKnight on the wreck with some of my men to stand off any other kinky-headed pirates that may light on the Reef. And we're going to take this boy home to his mother as fast as you can poke this old hooker of yours into Key West."

Dan opened his eyes and smiled at Captain Jim who motioned him to be quiet. But Dan was already restless with fever and he had a hundred things to talk about if they would only stop whirling around in his head long enough to be laid hold of. He looked at his scorched fingers which were pecking at a corner of the blanket and said in a voice so weak that it sounded foolish to him:

"They tried to blow her up—to blow Jerry Pringle up—no, I don't mean that. It was 'Black Sam' Hurley—he lit the fuse, Uncle Jim—and I put it out—all alone down in the hold. You never saw such big rats—with sacks of powder tied to their tails—and eyes like sparks."

Captain Jim soothed Dan as best he could and whispered to his cousin:

"Did you get that? It's all true, I reckon. That's an old trick of the Bahama wrecking gangs. Ask Mr. Prentice to come in. The underwriters ought to be interested in the boy."

Mr. Prentice, the Florida agent of the English marine insurance companies, was a sharp-featured, elderly gentleman of few words. He had a great deal of confidence in Captain Wetherly's ability to handle such a bad business as a costly steamer high and dry on the Reef, but he was not prepared to hear such an astonishing tale as was whispered to him in the doorway of the captain's state-room.

"Mind you, we don't know a quarter of it yet," added Captain Jim. "But it looks as if you'll have to thank Dan Frazier, not me, for saving the steamer out yonder."

"U-m-m. Bless me, but it's most extraordinary," murmured Mr. Prentice. "I must go aboard at once and look for confirmation. It's a very unusual wreck, Captain Wetherly," and the underwriter's agent shot a keen glance from under his gray brows. "I shall be much interested in getting Captain Bruce's version. Jeremiah Pringle was off here, also, the night the Kenilworth went ashore, was he not? I understand you were in collision with him next day."

Mr. Prentice had slightly raised his voice. It carried to Dan's ears and he raised himself on his elbow and cried out in excitement:

"We'll pull her off, Uncle Jim, and Barton won't know. And his mother won't know. Don't let them know. The captain is sorry. We can handle it all by ourselves."

"The lad is off his head, and no wonder," said Captain Jim, addressing the keen-eyed underwriter's agent. "Come outside, if you please."

"What are you holding back?" asked Mr. Prentice severely as they moved away from the door. "I intend to get to the bottom of this, you know. There is some mystery about it that is eating that lad's heart out."

"I haven't time to talk," was the reply. "But I'm going to get that ship off for you, thanks to the boy in there. And if we are holding anything back, it will have to stay hid and hawsers couldn't pull it out of me."

He went aft to meet Bill McKnight who had come over from the Kenilworth to get his orders.

"How's the boy?" anxiously asked the engineer.

"Pretty sick, I'm afraid, Bill. But home will cure him if anything will. He's talking wild and saying too much."

Captain Jim jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Mr. Prentice and went on, "It's the mysterious ways of Providence, Bill. Captain Bruce gave the dirty business away when he was queer in his head aboard the Resolute at Pensacola, and Dan has put that gimlet-eyed agent on the track by going daffy here. You can peek in at the boy, and then you hustle your dunnage and pick your men and go to the Kenilworth. I'll be back to-morrow, and more tugs and lighters will be on the way. Take Mr. Prentice along with you. Good luck."

The engineer tiptoed into Dan's room and laid his rough hand on the pillow. He looked down in silence while his gray moustache quivered as if strong emotion was held in check. Then he lumbered on deck and prepared to quit the tug. A few minutes later the "jingle bell" rang boisterously and its clamor was borne to Dan. He smiled at Captain Jim and murmured:

"Full speed ahead! And mother will come down to the wharf when she hears our whistle off the red buoy."