As Jarvis went on, the dark eyes of Mr. Hawkes widened. "The Board of Inquiry put the entire blame on me. Oh, I had no one to help me prove it; but I knew that the ship had been scuttled by a few on board. I vowed that I'd show up Swickard and his dirty crowd. The insurance company in San Francisco felt that something was wrong; but they couldn't prove it, either. So they told me to ship on this freighter to find out if all was right on it. Well, I did. I found that all was wrong." He paused a moment and fingered the automatic. "Burton knows that I'm telling the truth. He's seen my papers from the insurance company. They give me a free hand in case of an accident to the Araby. I'm the only man here, save you, Mr. Hawkes, who has master's papers. And now I take command!"
"You fool," retorted Hawkes with a defiant toss of his head, "you lie! And what's more, you can't prove anything. The Araby won't last five minutes."
"I think she will, Mr. Hawkes," Jarvis went on evenly. "You see, there was no hole ripped in her starboard bow—as you know."
Tod saw the Mate's eyes glitter, saw the black brows draw together.
"And that nice little clock-work which you placed in number three hold to open up her plates never went off."
Mr. Hawkes threw back his head in a fury of rage. He snarled out a stream of oaths. Turning to Red Mitchell upon his right hand he screamed: "You played me false, you cur!"
"I didn't! I didn't!" whined Mitchell as he cringed toward the gunwale. "I earned every blooming penny."
"That'll do!" Jarvis threw out his hand in a quick gesture. "Neil Moran is now on the Araby. He's fixed your little trick. I've got you right where I want you, Hawkes. We'll get the ship off the reef at high tide. We're going to take her, just as she is, into port. This time we've got the evidence within her holds!" He turned and spoke to the murmuring men behind him. "You've known, boys, that all wasn't right aboard our ship. When we get her to port, there'll be a nice little present for all of you. This means that the insurance company will not lose something like half a million. Are you boys with us?"
"Yah—yah!"
"Blimey, yes."
Jarvis's eyes swept the thwarts as the men nodded.
Past treatment, past grievances, doubtless surged to the surface of their thoughts. Would they come with Jarvis? Just watch!
Tod saw the second engineer rise. "Let me go forward," he interposed. "I've got nothing to do with this."
"Oh, you ain't?" snarled Hawkes. "Think you'll leave the sinkin' ship, eh? Well, ye sit right where ye are!"
"I'm through with you," reiterated the second, looking about him in sudden fear.
Tod Moran moved toward Jarvis. "Tom, that man killed the chief in the engine room."
"You lie!" cut in the second sharply.
"I saw him. I was behind the ventilating fan. He shot the chief and then ran on deck."
A rattle of steel sounded as Jarvis brought forth from his pocket two pairs of handcuffs. "Here, Burton—lock these on Hawkes and Phillips."
The third mate caught one pair and swung it about the wrists of the engineer. Immediately the man let out a stream of oaths. Tod flung the torchlight full upon him. Metal gleamed on his wrists, on the steel chain clasping the bracelets together. In that instant, when all eyes were focussed upon the second, Tod glimpsed Mr. Hawkes make an abrupt movement. The man flung himself across the gunwale off the shore side. The boat rocked as his body disappeared below the surface.
"'Ee's gone!" yelled Toppy. "The bloke'll git away t' shore."
Tod Moran turned the cone of light upon the water. Little whirls and eddies rose to the surface where the form of the mate had vanished. At Tod's side, Jarvis's tall form loomed up for a second. The youth beheld the man clasp one of the steel bracelets about his right wrist. The next instant he stepped to the thwart and dove in a great leap after the mate.
Breathless, the men crowded to the gunwale. Foam swirled to the surface. It leaped in little waves that washed away outside that circle of light. Tod felt his heart flutter against his ribs. Cries sounded about him. He gripped the gunwale. Immovable he stared. Below the surface a fight was waging. Bubbles floated up; the churning distance widened. He flashed the light out across the water.
Of a sudden, the phosphorescent surface parted and two hands rose, locked together with flashing metal. Tod started. One arm was tattooed with a network of stars; the other, clutching wildly, was a hairy paw with flattened fingers. Below the water Jarvis had locked himself to Hawkes. Face to face, the two men rose into view: Jarvis's closely cropped hair dripping; Hawkes's dark bearded face contorted in rage. Struggling, treading water, they fought like two wild beasts locked in close embrace. On each side the blue radiance fell away in gleaming rivulets.
Jarvis swung his left fist forward. It caught his opponent upon the jaw. Tod saw the man's eyes close; his head flew back; he went down, dragging his companion with him.
"Yah, they drown," said a voice.
Tod Moran, his eyes riveted downward, felt his heart miss a beat. What was happening below those even swells? Could Jarvis haul the burly form of the mate to the surface ? As he stared, two bubbles floated to the top and slowly dissolved. A churning eddy filtered upward. Outside the circle of light the stars danced with mocking winks.
"Yah—they drown," repeated Jorgenson.
"Drown nothin', you blarsted squarehead," retorted Toppy. "Tom Jarvis is a blarsted painted whale, that's wot 'e is. Just wait."
In the phosphorescent ripples close to the lifeboat a head emerged. Tod swung back the light which flashed upon Jarvis as he threw back his head and caught his breath sharply. He grasped the gunwale with his free hand while the other slowly dragged the still form of Mr. Hawkes to the surface.
"Jorgenson," snapped Burton, "give me a hand. Boys, get back to the other side." The two men leaned over and helped Jarvis into the boat. The man dropped on a thwart, with his shackled wrist hanging overside. Leaning forward again, the three dragged the sputtering Hawkes over the gunwale.
Half drowned, softly cursing, he was willing to lie passively on the bottom while Jarvis extracted a key from his pocket and unlocked himself.
"Get us back to the ship, Burton," ordered the Tattooed Man. Mr. Hawkes rose to a sitting position and swore volubly. The men flung out their oars and in steady movements sent the boat toward the dark outline of the Araby. As they drew near, Tod discerned on the lower platform of the accommodation ladder the figure of Neil Moran, lantern in hand.
"All O. K. here, Tom," called Neil.
"Good work," replied Jarvis.
The boat grated on the woodwork. The men sprang out. The boatswain held the painter while Burton and Jorgenson led the dripping prisoner up the steps.
"Now, up you go too," said Jarvis, pointing his automatic at Red Mitchell and the second engineer.
"You ain't got no right," began Mitchell in his whining voice.
"Oh, haven't I? Well, I think that we'll let Tony the Wop lock you fellows safely below in the brig."
"Dio!" called a voice from above. "Just watch yne."
Jarvis stepped to the platform. "High tide in four hours," he announced. "Get those fellows locked up, Burton. I'll place the men."
Tod Moran paused on the deck of the Araby as Tom Jarvis turned to the group or men. "Boys, I have orders to take this ship back to San Francisco. We'll have to work double shifts until we make Colon. We'll get a full crew there. Are you willing?"
"We are," they answered.
"Line up, men," commanded the new master of the Araby. In quick tones the men were placed; none were to turn in till the ship was off the reef. The third engineer took charge of the engine room; Burton and Tod were ordered above. "Yes, we're so short of hands," pursued Jarvis, "that you'll have to take the wheel, Tod Moran, while I'm on the bridge."