  Jack slipped back into the hold to report to his companions. “It’s the old boy himself,” he whispered. “We’re in a pickle!” “What do we do now?” War asked. “Hide?” “Captain Carter must know someone is aboard, if our boatman waited,” Jack reasoned. “He’ll find us here quickly enough.” “He’ll make hash of us!” “Relax!” Jack advised. “Captain Carter seems to be alone. There are four of us.” “Anyway, he’s the one to do the explaining—not us,” Ken pointed out. “Our gear is aboard the Shark, or it’s supposed to be. We’ve got a right to be here.” “He may be armed,” Jack warned. “We’ll have to be on the alert. Now let’s go on deck before he comes down here.” Quickly, they all went up the companionway. As they emerged into the cool evening air, Captain Carter loomed in front of them. “Well, blister my timbers!” he exclaimed wrathfully. “It didn’t take you long to get out here after you thought I was away! What were you doing in the hole?” “Looking for our cargo,” Ken told him coldly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay off this vessel?” “You did,” Ken replied, “but I think we have a right to be here. Especially as you spent the day at a tavern instead of getting our stuff ashore.” “You’ll get your cargo in good time.” “We found some of the boxes in the hold,” Jack said. “They were marked for our expedition. But they didn’t contain our equipment.” “So you opened ’em?” “We certainly did,” War cut in, enjoying the captain’s consternation. “They contained guns and ammunition—that’s what!” “Why, you blithering little sneaks!” the captain muttered. “Maybe you can explain it,” Jack said quietly. “I’ll explain nothing! Get off this vessel and stay clear! You hear me! Get off!” “We want our equipment. Mr. Livingston—” “Mr. Livingston—” Captain Carter mocked. “Mr. Livingston! I’m so sick of that name I could vomit! I’m sick of all you meddling, stupid little boys. You call yourselves Rovers—Explorers! One night in the hills and you’ll be whimpering for your mothers. One flurry of poisoned Indian arrows and you’ll come flying back to Cuertos crying for your morning milk!” The seaman’s words infuriated the Scouts. War’s fists clenched tightly and he began to stammer: “Why, you-y-you—” Jack placed a restraining hand on the younger boy’s arm. It was evident that Captain Carter deliberately had made the personal remarks, hoping to distract them from asking further questions. “Suppose you tell us why those boxes were marked in the name of the Scout organization?” he persisted. “Because Mr. Livingston ordered it.” Jack eyed the captain steadily. “That’s not so,” he replied quietly. “Ken and I helped check every box that went aboard the Shark. There were no guns or ammunition.” “Those particular boxes were picked up in the Canal Zone—at Mr. Livingston’s orders.” One and all the Explorers showed by their expressions that they did not believe the captain. “I’m getting your stuff off this vessel right now,” the seaman announced. “Then I don’t want to hear any more squawks!” Shoving Willie aside, he went down into the forecastle hold. Soon, with the aid of the watch, all cargo stamped with the Scout name, had been brought on deck. Jack counted twelve boxes which he was certain had not been in the original shipment. “What are you doing with our stuff?” he demanded. Captain Carter did not answer. Ignoring the Scouts, he started to supervise the loading of a small motor tender. “Shake it up!” he ordered his helper. “We got to move this stuff fast. First, those boxes of grenades.” The Scouts witnessed the loading with increasing misgiving. They were firmly convinced that Mr. Livingston never had ordered guns or grenades for the expedition. But without him there to confirm it, they hesitated to tangle with Captain Carter. “How will this stuff go through customs?” Ken muttered, watching as another box was lowered to the tender. “It doesn’t make sense to me!” “Nor to me,” Jack agreed. “I’m sure Hap had no hand in this business. You notice the captain isn’t moving the regular Scout boxes—only the guns and ammunition.” “He’s in a mighty big hurry too! Say, maybe he’s scared of custom officials, and is trying to get rid of the stuff while it’s dark!” “We could stop him.” “Maybe,” Ken conceded. “He’s armed though, and someone would be likely to get hurt.” “I’m going for Mr. Livingston,” Jack announced with sudden decision. “How?” Ken drawled. “You aim to swim?” “Our boatman—” “Gone. Either he went off while we were below, or more likely, Captain Carter dismissed him.” “We’re stranded here then!” “We are, unless we can ride in on the tender. So maybe we should wait a bit and pretend to play along.” The Scouts clustered together, silently watching. Approximately half of the boxes containing weapons had been lowered onto the tender, when Willie heard the splash of oars. “What was that?” he demanded in an undertone. “Our boatman coming back maybe?” Peering out across the rail into the darkness, the Scouts at first could see no one. Then, they made out a small rowboat coming directly toward the Shark. “Ahoy!” called a cheery voice. “Anyone aboard?” “That sounds like Hap’s voice!” War cried excitedly. Captain Carter also had heard the approaching boat. Speaking rapidly in Spanish, he ordered the sailor in the tender to shove off. The Scouts shouted to Mr. Livingston, urging him to hurry. Eagerly, they helped him aboard. “I’m relieved to find you fellows here,” the Scout leader asserted. “What a day I’ve had with government officials! Our troubles aren’t over either, I’m afraid.” “You don’t know the half of it,” Ken said, looking directly at Captain Carter. He waited for the master of the Shark to take the initiative in mentioning the boxes of ammunition. The captain however, smiled arrogantly, and remained silent. Unaware of the tense situation, Mr. Livingston remarked casually: “I’m mighty glad the Shark finally made port. We should get our expedition on its way within a few days, providing government officials give us clearance. So far, they’ve refused.” “Refused?” Willie demanded. “Why?” “Well, it’s ridiculous. But a lot of nasty rumors seem to have circulated about our party. We’re under suspicion of aiding a group of would-be revolutionists, who have taken refuge in the back country. I think I finally managed to convince them of our good intentions. At any rate, port inspectors are coming aboard in a few minutes to make sure we’re not bringing in any contraband. Once our personal cargo passes inspection, the way should be cleared for us to leave Cuertos.” “Jumping hop toads!” exclaimed War in dismay. “You mean if those government men should find guns or ammunition aboard, they’d hold up our trip?” “If they came upon anything of that sort, they’d probably toss us in jail,” Mr. Livingston chuckled. The Scouts could not share their leader’s amusement. Even Captain Carter had been jarred by Mr. Livingston’s casual announcement. “The port authorities are coming here?” he demanded harshly. “Tonight?” “Why, yes, that’s my understanding. I told them we’d welcome a thorough check.” “You babbling idiot! You’ve done it now!” “Done what?” Mr. Livingston coldly inquired. “Ruined all my plans. The authorities haven’t inspected my vessel in four voyages! Now you bring ’em down on me!” Amazed by the seaman’s blast of anger, Mr. Livingston demanded: “Any reason why inspectors shouldn’t check the cargo?” “Any reason?” Carter mocked savagely. “If I’m caught, so are you!” “Kindly explain.” “Take a fast look at some of those boxes and you’ll have your answer,” Jack grimly informed the Scout leader, indicating the cargo which remained on deck. “What’s wrong, Jack?” “Plenty. These boxes are marked for our expedition. They’re loaded with hand grenades, sawed-off shotguns and the like. Captain Carter has moved one load to shore already.” “Guns!” Mr. Livingston turned coldly toward the seaman. “So it’s true, Captain Carter—you’re aiding Revolutionists!” “No, it’s not!” the captain denied. “Then explain these boxes.” “I have use for those grenades. You’ll hear about it in good time. Now if you’ll climb down the mast, I might cut you in on a good deal.” “We want no deal with you, Captain Carter.” “Figure you’re above me, eh? You and your high ideals!” “We believe in honesty.” “Yeah!” the captain sneered. “Well, let me tell you this—you got a lot to learn!” “We’ll be no shield for a revolutionist.” “You got me all wrong, I tell you!” Captain Carter shouted. “I’m not denying I used your boxes to haul in a little ammunition. I need it for a special purpose. What’s the harm? Your stuff is all here. I’ll set it ashore and no questions asked.” “You can’t get by with it, Captain Carter.” “I can if you’ll keep your mouth shut. You and your nice little boys!” “The answer is no.” “Oh, so you aim to turn me in, eh?” the captain sneered. “Don’t forget, Scoutmaster, you’re tarred with the same stick!” “We’ll have no part in this ugly mess. From the start, your name and reputation have been a drag to the expedition.” “The guns are in your name,” Captain Carter reminded him. “If they’re found aboard the Shark, your expedition is finished. You’ll never set foot inland—not one step. You’ll find yourself under suspicion, bound head and foot with government red tape!” Ken had been peering intently over the railing. Not only had his keen ears picked up the sound of a fast-approaching motor launch, but he could see its outline some distance to starboard. Jack too, heard the sound, and joined Ken at the railing. “That boat’s heading straight for the Shark,” he observed uneasily. “A government launch too,” added Ken. “It looks very much as if the red tape is on its way!” |
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