The Pirate of Panama (Musaicum Adventure Classics). William MacLeod Raine

of the window with a far-away expression in his eyes.

      "It's a queer yarn," he said at last.

      "And of course you don't believe a word of it?" I challenged.

      "Don't I? Let me tell you this, old man. There are a number of rum things in this old world. I've bucked up against two or three of them. Let me see your map."

      I had made another copy of it, with the latitude and longitude omitted. This I handed to him.

      While he examined it his eyes shone.

      "By Jove, this is a lark. You can have the old tub if you want it."

      He was referring to his splendid steam yacht the Argos, in which he had made the trip to Alaska.

      "I haven't the price to outfit her and pay your crew," I explained.

      "I have. You'll have to let me be your bank. But I say, Sedgwick, you'll need a sailing master. You're not a seaman."

      Our eyes met.

      "Could Sam Blythe be persuaded to take the place?"

      "Could I?" He got up and wrung my hand. "That's what I wanted you to say. Of course I'll go—jump at the chance."

      "There's the chance of a nasty row. We're likely to meet Bothwell in that vicinity. If we do, there will be trouble."

      "So I gather from your description of the gentleman."

      I was delighted. Blythe was not only a good navigator; he was a tried companion, true as steel, an interesting fellow who had passed through strange experiences but never used them to impress upon others a sense of his importance.

      He had served through the Boer and the Spanish-American wars with distinction. As I looked at him—a spare tall man with a bronzed face of power, well-shouldered, clear-eyed, and light-footed—I felt he was the one out of ten thousand for my purpose.

      "Too bad I didn't know a week ago. I've let my crew go. But we can pick up another. My sailing master Mott is a thoroughly reliable man. He'll look after the details. My opinion is that we ought to get under way as soon as possible. That fellow Bothwell is going to crowd on all sail in his preparations. I take it as a sure thing that he means to have a try for the treasure."

      "My notion too. He struck me as a man of resource and determination."

      "So much the better. He'll give us a run for our money. My dear fellow, you've saved my life. I was beginning to get bored to extinction. This will be a bully picnic."

      "How long will it take you to get the yacht ready?"

      "Give me a week to pick a crew and get supplies aboard. I'll offer a bonus to get things pushed."

      To see the enthusiasm he put into the adventure did me good after the three days of disappointment I had endured. I was eager to have him and Miss Wallace meet, and I got her at once on the telephone and made arrangements to bring him up after dinner to the private hotel where she and her aunt were stopping.

      They took to each other at once. Inside of ten minutes we were all talking about our equipment for the trip.

      "If we have a good run and the proper luck we'll be back to you with the treasure inside of a month, Miss Wallace," Blythe promised as he rose to leave.

      "Back to me!" She looked first at him and then at me. "You don't think that I'm not going, too, do you?"

      It is odd that the point had not come up before, but I had taken it for granted she would wait in 'Frisco for us.

      "It's hardly a lady's job, I should say," was my smiling answer.

      "Nonsense! Of course I am going." Sharp decision rang in her voice.

      "It may be dangerous."

      "Fiddlesticks! Panama is a tourist point of travel these days. Half of my schoolgirl chums have been there. It's as safe as—Atlantic City."

      "Atlantic City isn't safe if one ventures too far out in the surf," I reminded her.

      "I'll stick close to the life line," she promised.

      Both Blythe and I were embarrassed. It was of course her right to go if she insisted. I appealed to her aunt, a plump, amiable lady nearer fifty than forty.

      "Don't you think, Miss Berry, that it would be better to wait here for us? There would be discomforts to which you are not used."

      "That is just what Boris told us," Evelyn put in mischievously.

      Miss Berry gave a little shrug of her shoulders.

      "Oh, I'd as soon stay here, but Evie will have her way." Her pleasant smile took from the words any sting they might otherwise have held.

      "Of course I shall. This is a matter of business," Miss Wallace triumphantly insisted.

      Excitement danced in her eyes. She might put it on commercial grounds if she liked, but the truth is that the romance of the quest had taken hold of her even as it had of us. One could not blame her for wanting to go.

      I consulted Sam with my eyes.

      "I suppose there is no absolute bar to letting the ladies go. There is room enough on the Argos."

      "There's plenty of room," he admitted.

      After all it was fanciful to suppose that we should run across Bothwell on the face of the broad Pacific. Why shouldn't they have the pleasure of a month's yachting? Certainly their presence would make the voyage a more pleasant one for us.

      "All right. Go if you must, but don't blame me if it turns out to be no picnic."

      "Thank you, Mr. Sedgwick. That's just what it is going to be—a nice long picnic," the girl beamed.

      "Wish I had your beautiful confidence. Have you forgotten Captain Bothwell? Shall we take him along, too?" I asked with a laugh.

      "I'm afraid he would want all the cake. No, we'll not ask him to our picnic. He may stay at home."

      "Let's hope he will," Miss Berry contributed cheerfully.

      I don't think she gave the least weight to our fears of Bothwell. In fact he was rather a favorite of hers.

      "If he comes he'll have to take what is left. He understands he's not invited," Miss Wallace nodded gaily.

      Blythe was fortunately able to secure his sailing master, Mott, and one of the crew that had sailed with him before, a man named Williams. The Englishman's valet, Morgan, went as steward. For the rest, we had to be content with such men as we could get hurriedly together.

      Two brothers named Fleming were secured as engineers, a little cockney as fat as a prize pig for cook. He answered to the cognomen of 'Arry 'Iggins, though on the ship's register the letter H was the first initial of both his names. Caine, the boatswain, was a sinister-looking fellow, but he knew his business. Taken as a whole, the crew appeared to average well enough.

      From long practice Blythe was an adept at outfitting a yacht for a cruise. Without going into details I'll only say that we carried very little that was superfluous and lacked nothing that would tend to increase our comfort.

      I am no sailor, but it did not take a professional eye to see that the Argos was a jewel of a boat. Of her seagoing qualities I knew nothing except by repute, but her equipment throughout was of the best. She was a three-masted schooner with two funnels, fitted with turbines and Yarrow boilers. To get eighteen knots out of her was easy, and I have seen her do twenty in a brisk wind.

      In addition to her main deck the Argos carried a topgallant forecastle and a bridge, the latter extended on stanchions from the main deck to the sides of the ship so as to give plenty of space for games or promenades. The bridge contained a reception and a tea room, which were connected by a carved stairway with the deck below.

      The rooms of the commander, the cook, and other servants lay well forward under the bridge. Abaft of these were the kitchen and the pantry, the dining room, the saloon, and the rooms