He looked out over the beach and the sun-sparkled waters of the little bay. This cave was a good forty feet above the beach. He looked down on the vessel, which was but a few hundred yards distant; the flooding tide had swung her stern to the sh.o.r.e, and her decks were plainly visible.

At his first glance, Martin suffered a sharp stab of disappointment.

For nothing was changed. There, leaning over the taffrail, staring sh.o.r.eward, was the j.a.panese mate, Asoki, in the exact att.i.tude in which Martin had last seen him, when he entered the caves in Ichi's wake.

The man seemed not to have budged since then. And forward, the guards were still at the hatches. He saw Yip step out of the gallery, empty a pot overside, and stand there by the rail, gazing aft.

Asoki suddenly came to life, walked over to the skylight and glanced below, and then struck six bells' on the bell that hung by the wheel.

Martin's feeling of disappointment was changed to one of astonishment.

Six bells! It was unbelievable. Only thirty moments since he followed Ichi through the Elephant Head! A half hour!

The swift tragedies by the chasm brink, the earth's convulsions, and the darkness, above all the darkness, all combined to lend error to his time reckoning. He had felt he was immersed in the black bowels of the mountain for hours. But now he looked into daylight, and reasoned about it, he realized how short was the time spent in the cave of winds. It was but a half hour since they landed. Thirty moments!

Why, the bosun and the boys must still be quiet in the hold, and Yip's plot was still a-borning. And now, he was not impotent; he could help, perhaps. With Ichi.

He turned to call Little Billy and the prisoner forward. He discovered the hunchback by his side, peering out at the ship. But Ichi was gone.

"My G.o.d, where is he?" exclaimed Martin.

"Eh? d.a.m.n! I forgot him!" was Billy's answer. He glanced swiftly around. "There he goes!"

Martin saw him the same instant--the squat figure streaking for the dim recesses at the farther end of the cavern. He sprinted after the vanishing form. Before he could overhaul it, Ichi rounded a spur of rock; there was a crash, and a yelp of terror and pain. Martin, rounding the corner, came into collision with a round rolling object, and sprawled headlong over it.

He landed on a softer couch than the rock, on Ichi, himself; and the j.a.p's remaining wind was expelled from his body with a forcible "_woof!_" Something made of wood fell on Martin's back, and bounced off; then a barrel rolled against him and stopped. He did not feel either blow; he was too intent on making sure of the safety of the captive. He flopped the limp and groaning Ichi over on his back, and sat on him.

Just then Little Billy appeared around the jutting rock with the lantern.

"Got him safe?" he exclaimed. "Oh, Martin, I was so anxious--the ship--took my eyes off him just a second, and--" He stopped his excuses suddenly, and held up the lantern, gazing about.

"Good heavens, do you know what this is?" he cried.

Martin knew. He had guessed it even before Billy spoke, even before the lantern brought clear sight. The thing he had tumbled over: the other things that b.u.mped him; the reek of musk in the air. He knew it was the treasure.

None the less, he was astonished when he followed Little Billy's gesture with his gaze. They were in a corner of the dry cave, and the jutting rock which had spelled grief for Ichi formed a pocket or alcove. This little chamber, in which they now were, was nearly filled with kegs. They were stowed neatly, tier on tier, from floor to sloping roof. They were about the size of pickle kegs, and there were dozens of them. Ichi had evidently plumped headlong into the pile and sent several kegs (and himself) rolling, one of which had tripped Martin.

Martin's knowledge of ambergris was still very vague. He would not have been surprised at the sight of a couple of barrels and an iron-bound chest or two. But a regiment of kegs! Dozens of kegs! If they all contained ambergris, he thought, there must be tons of the smelly stuff.

"See it, Martin?" cried the volatile hunchback, all else forgotten in the excitement of the instant. "By Jove, the entire fifteen hundred pounds, or I'll eat this lantern! _Phew_--it hasn't lost any of its virtue."

"But all those kegs can't be filled with it," said Martin. "Fifteen hundred pounds--why, there must be fifty kegs there."

"Fifty-five," answered Little Billy, "counting the ones you knocked over. Not as much as it looks. There is hardly any weight to ambergris; it takes quite a lump to weigh even an ounce. Specific gravity is--is--oh, I forget."

"It is .09," came a m.u.f.fled voice from underneath Martin.

Martin started, and lifted his weight from the prostrate form.

"That is of betterness," said Ichi, more clearly. "May I see, please?"

"The rat smells cheese," observed Little Billy. It seemed so. Ichi struggled into a sitting posture, and his little black eyes were bright and greedy as he feasted them upon the kegs. He even sucked in the burdened air greedily.

"Let's get back where we can see the ship," said Martin. He jerked the j.a.p to his feet, and propelled him before. "That cursed stuff sickens me," he told Little Billy, as they rapidly retraced their way. "Think of the ruin--the murder--all the trouble it has caused."

"Aye, Sails," responded Little Billy. "Poor Sails. And who else? For G.o.d's sake, who else, Martin? And the ship--Ruth--everything! I know nothing."

"Lend a hand while I truss him up, so he won't lead us another chase,"

said Martin.

They had regained the window, and a glance had a.s.sured Martin the ship had remained peaceful during their brief absence. And now he took the strap belt he had salvaged from the dead sailor and with it tightly bound Ichi's ankles. It rendered him quite helpless. Martin deposited him with his back to the wall, a few feet from the window.

"Sit there awhile and think over your sins," he told him, when Ichi tried to speak. "When I'm ready, I'll talk with you."

CHAPTER XXI

DECOY

"If we could only get on board to help," complained Little Billy. "If it were only dark. That whaleboat down there."

"But we can't," was Martin's prompt rejoinder. "You said yourself we dare not venture on the beach. They would only knock us over with their rifles--and besides, Carew would learn that something had happened to his landing party."

They were sitting on either side of the opening, watchfully regarding the ship. Martin, in response to the hunchback's importuning, had just briefly related the details of the previous night's misfortune, and he now summarized the situation on board as he knew or guessed it.

"The foc'sle crowd is locked in the hold--you see the guards, one at the fore hatch, and two amidships," said Martin. "The bosun has undoubtedly broken through from the lazaret and joined the boys by this time. Captain Dabney is laid up in his room, suffering from the blow Carew gave him, and Ruth is nursing him. But her note said he has regained his sight--what does that mean, Billy?"

"I don't know," said Little Billy. "It was a shock that blinded him; perhaps another shock has cured him. But the c.h.i.n.k's plan, Martin!

What is it? 'The noon meal.' What does that mean?"

Martin shook his head. "I wish I knew. I shouldn't think eight bells would be a good time for the boys in the hold to attempt to break out.

Now, would be a good time. There are only three of the gang on guard--or four, if you count the mate, there on the p.o.o.p. Another one is in the cabin with Carew. The rest must be asleep in the foc'sle.

There are only nine of them left, Billy. We have accounted for six, you and I--and that hole. There are ten of our fellows in the hold.

If only they were armed! I am afraid to try my scheme just yet; it might upset their plans, it might spoil everything. Her note is explicit, 'The noon meal.'"

"Your plan? We can help?" exclaimed Little Billy.

Martin inclined his head towards the bound form of their captive, lying beyond earshot. "Decoy," he said.

Understanding lighted the hunchback's face. "I see. Draw them off--some of them. Just before eight bells. Oh, I am dopey, not to have thought of that. But I can't think straight. Nerves snapping.

I've worried a lot since last night. You know how it is--I didn't know what had happened, and Ruth---"

Yes, Martin knew how it was. He smiled his understanding and sympathy, and leaned over and patted Billy's shoulder. Yes, he knew. His own nerves were snapping, when he thought of Ruth. He knew that his, and Wild Bob's, were not the only hearts enslaved by the maid of the _Coha.s.set_. And he, the accepted lover, could regard without disquiet the light that shone in Billy's eyes whenever the latter spoke of Ruth.

"I know how it is between you two," continued Little Billy. "And you--I think you know how it is with me. I--why, I'd die for her gladly. Oh, Martin, in my mind I think I died a thousand times last night."

"What happened to you last night?" inquired Martin. "How did you escape them, and get ash.o.r.e?"

"I suppose they murdered Rimoa and Oomak while Sails was in the cabin, calling you. Poor Sails--so it was his concern for me that caused him to awaken you. He thought feydom had me."

"But he was wrong," said Martin, quickly.