"If it hadn't been for that beastly chloroform, they wouldn't," declared Kenneth. "But what puzzles me is: why did they go to all that trouble when they could have shot us down?"
"I thought of that, too," said Peter. "During the scrap not a shot was fired by any of the mutineers, yet those chaps who shoved us into this place were wearing holsters with revolvers in them. I could see the butts of the pistols. And they didn't even shoot Gregory."
"They knifed him; that was just as bad."
"I don't think much of that Mendoza fellow," continued Peter, but Kenneth interposed.
"Shut up!" he exclaimed cautiously. "As likely as not there's someone listening."
"Someone is listening," echoed a voice, which the lads recognized as that of Miguel Fe.
The door of the cabin was opened noiselessly and the Chief Officer of the mutineer vessel Paloma slipped through, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Up to the present moment the two chums had not the slightest idea that Miguel Fe understood English, let alone spoke it. Previous to the outbreak he had given the impression that he was a silent though punctiliously polite Spaniard, who, if spoken to, relied upon Captain Gregory as an interpreter. Now he was speaking English with hardly a trace of a foreign accent.
"No need for you to apologize, young gentlemen, for refusing to discuss such a rascally person as Pedro Mendoza," he remarked. "I have taken this opportunity of putting you on your guard. I cannot communicate with your father, Mr. Kenneth, but you will no doubt be able to convey to him the information I am about to impart to you."
"It's very good of you," rejoined Kenneth.
There was a pause. Miguel Fe studied the faces of the two lads intently, as if to analyse their attitude towards him. He learned little; the features of both Kenneth and Peter were as imperturbable as waxen masks.
"I am your very good friend," continued the Spaniard.
"Just the same words that Mendoza used," thought Kenneth. "I wonder what his terms are?"
Suddenly Fe started and began to listen intently. Obviously he was in great fear lest his presence be discovered. A sound of shuffling footsteps overhead died away. Miguel Fe moistened his lips and resumed in a low voice:
"I cannot run risks without adequate reward," he remarked tentatively. "You observe, señores, the position is this: Mendoza has the plan of Talai, showing the lagoon where the black pearls are to be found."
"He stole it from my father, I presume," rejoined Kenneth.
"That was precisely what the villain did," agreed Miguel Fe.
Young Heatherington could hardly conceal a chuckle of satisfaction. The Spaniard had given himself away entirely. Mr. Heatherington had no such plan on board. He had purposely refrained from being in possession of any document likely to assist unauthorized searchers for the rare bivalves and their precious contents. Consequently Mendoza was ignorant of the precise locality. So was Miguel Fe. By attempting to enlist the sympathies of Kenneth and Peter the men hoped to cajole them into revealing the secret.
"Then he'll probably gain possession of the pearls," said Kenneth.
"Caramba!" exclaimed Fe heatedly. "It is casting pearls before swine! Listen, Mendoza must be foiled. It is I, Miguel Fe, who will baulk him; but your father must allow me one-half share of the treasure. Better for him to receive one half and his life and liberty than nothing at all. Come, now; you must know where the spot in the lagoon is. Give me that information and I swear by the saints that Mendoza and the other mutineers will be foiled."
"I'm not a free agent in the matter," replied Kenneth. "Am I, Peter?"
Peter Arkendale vigorously supported his chum.
"In which case," continued Kenneth, "I must mention the matter to my father. Better still, why don't you ask him yourself?"
CHAPTER VI. TO THE SHARKS!
For the rest of the night nothing unusual occurred. But for the fact that the Englishmen were under lock and key, and were still feeling considerably out of condition owing to the effects of the chloroform, they might have been with one exception as comfortable as if they were in their own respective cabins. The exception was Captain Gregory. He was in a high fever, brought on by loss of blood and the reaction following his encounter with the mutineers. One of the stewards had been sent to attend to him, but the displaced skipper's attitude towards him was so angry that the fellow fled in terror.
The mutineers now kept the Paloma on her former course, and made no attempt to increase speed. Under Mendoza's orders, supported by the fate of the mutineer he had shot dead, perfect discipline was maintained, the usual tricks and watches being kept with the same precision as when Captain Gregory was in command. Mendoza realized that if his carefully laid plans were to materialize successfully they could only do so by the aid of most rigid discipline.
At eight bells in the forenoon watch, Lopez "took over", relieving Fe on the bridge. The latter went below and turned in. As soon as Mendoza realized that his second-in-command was sound asleep, he posted a sentry over the cabin with instructions to inform him directly Miguel Fe awoke.
Mendoza then ordered a good breakfast for three to be sent to Mr. Heatherington's cabin—or, rather, the cabin he had been forced to occupy. The mutineer captain reckoned that an appetizing meal would go a long way towards putting his principal captive in a reasonable frame of mind. It would also tend to impress upon him the "very good friendship" of the villainous Spaniard. He then gave instructions for Kenneth and Peter to be taken to Mr. Heatherington's cabin.
An hour later—he purposely gave the prisoners time—Mendoza unlocked the door of the cabin and presented himself to Mr. Heatherington with a courtly bow.
"I trust, señor, that you are feeling well," he said.
"Thank you," replied the Englishman. "I'm feeling quite chirpy."
"Chirpy?" echoed Mendoza, not sure of his ground. "What does that mean?"
"Well, feeling considerably bucked," declared Mr. Heatherington jauntily.
"Bucked? What is bucked?" questioned the mutineer captain, feeling pretty certain that the Englishman was "pulling his leg". "One minute! Let me see!"
Producing a small dictionary of slang from his pocket the Spaniard rapidly turned over the pages.
"Ah! Chirpy—full of good spirits, eh? Very well. You are confident, then, that I am your friend. Now let us set to business. Listen: I will undertake to set you safely ashore on condition that you give me the exact position of the spot where the oysters with the black pearls are to be found. Furthermore you will give me a certificate to the effect that I have done everything in my power to prevent the mutiny."
"That's rather a big price to have to pay for liberty when in all probability a United States or a British warship will do the same merely for the gratification of dealing effectively with a crowd of rascally mutineers, isn't it?" replied Mr. Heatherington. "It's hardly necessary to add that I absolutely decline to accept your offer."
For some moments Mendoza looked completely taken aback. He had his doubts about forcing his captive to disclose the information. He might try force as a last resource. He could well afford to make concession in the bargaining business, since he fully intended that neither Mr. Heatherington nor his companions would ever be in a position to obtain possession of the coveted gems.
"I make a mistake," he said. "One half of the pearls I meant to say. One half—that is a fortune in itself. One half, with life and liberty."
"I have received a precisely similar offer from another of your fellow-murderers," observed Mr. Heatherington dryly. "It seems that you have a rival in business."