The Mystery | Page 4

the shop. Every one of 'em volcanic."
"E. D.'s and P. D.'s?" queried the paymaster.
"Existence doubtful, and position doubtful," explained the ensign.
"Every time the skipper of one of these wandering trade ships gets a
speck in his eye, he reports an island. If he really does bump into a rock
he cuts in an arithmetic book for his latitude and longitude and lets it go
at that. That's how the chart makers make a living, getting out new
editions every few months."
"But it's a fact that these seas are constantly changing," said Barnett.
"They're so little travelled that no one happens to be around to see an
island born. I don't suppose there's a part on the earth's surface more
liable to seismic disturbances than this region."
"Seismic!" cried Billy Edwards, "I should say it was seismic! Why,
when a native of one of these island groups sets his heart on a particular
loaf of bread up his bread-fruit tree, he doesn't bother to climb after it.
Just waits for some earthquake to happen along and shake it down to

him."
"Good boy, Billy," said Dr. Trendon, approvingly. "Do another."
"It's a fact," said the ensign, heatedly. "Why, a couple of years back
there was a trader here stocked up with a lot of belly-mixture in bottles.
Thought he was going to make his pile because there'd been a colic
epidemic in the islands the season before. Bottles were labelled 'Do not
shake.' That settled his business. Might as well have marked 'em 'Keep
frozen' in this part of the world. Fellow went broke."
"In any case," said Barnett, "such a glow as that we sighted last night
I've never seen from any volcano."
"Nor I," said Trendon. "Don't prove it mightn't have been."
"I'll just bet the best dinner in San Francisco that it isn't," said Edwards.
"You're on," said Carter.
"Let me in," suggested Ives.
"And I'll take one of it," said McGuire.
"Come one, come all," said Edwards cheerily. "I'll live high on the
collective bad judgment of this outfit."
"To-night isn't likely to settle it, anyhow," said Ives. "I move we turn
in."
Expectant minds do not lend themselves to sound slumber. All night
the officers of the Wolverine slept on the verge of waking, but it was
not until dawn that the cry of "Sail-ho!" sent them all hurrying to their
clothes. Ordinarily officers of the U.S. Navy do not scuttle on deck like
a crowd of curious schoolgirls, but all hands had been keyed to a high
pitch over the elusive light, and the bet with Edwards now served as an
excuse for the betrayal of unusual eagerness. Hence the quarter-deck
was soon alive with men who were wont to be deep in dreams at that
hour.

They found Carter, whose watch on deck it was, reprimanding the
lookout.
"No, sir," the man was insisting, "she didn't show no light, sir. I'd 'a'
sighted her an hour ago, sir, if she had."
"We shall see," said Carter grimly. "Who's your relief?"
"Sennett."
"Let him take your place. Go aloft, Sennett."
As the lookout, crestfallen and surly, went below, Barnett said in
subdued tones:
"Upon my word, I shouldn't be surprised if the man were right.
Certainly there's something queer about that hooker. Look how she
handles herself."
The vessel was some three miles to windward. She was a schooner of
the common two-masted Pacific type, but she was comporting herself
in a manner uncommon on the Pacific, or any other ocean. Even as
Barnett spoke, she heeled well over, and came rushing up into the wind,
where she stood with all sails shaking. Slowly she paid off again,
bearing away from them. Now she gathered full headway, yet edged
little by little to windward again.
"Mighty queer tactics," muttered Edwards. "I think she's steering
herself."
"Good thing she carries a weather helm," commented Ives, who was an
expert on sailing rigs. "Most of that type do. Otherwise she'd have jibed
her masts out, running loose that way."
Captain Parkinson appeared on deck and turned his glasses for a full
minute on the strange schooner.
"Aloft there," he hailed the crow's-nest. "Do you make out anyone
aboard?"

"No, sir," came the answer.
"Mr. Carter, have the chief quartermaster report on deck with the signal
flags."
"Yes, sir."
"Aren't we going to run up to her?" asked McGuire, turning in surprise
to Edwards.
"And take the risk of getting a hole punched in our pretty paint, with
her running amuck that way? Not much!"
Up came the signal quartermaster to get his orders, and there ensued a
one-sided conversation in the pregnant language of the sea.
"What ship is that?"
No answer.
"Are you in trouble?" asked the cruiser, and waited. The schooner
showed a bare