"But take my advice and look after those binoculars in your travels, because they 're worth as much as you 'll earn in a month of Sundays."
Still feeling a little wounded, Dave was returning the glasses to the suitcase, when one of the deck hands informed him that Mr. Quick wanted him immediately and was "raging something 'orrible."
The boy hurried away without locking the case up, and found Mr. Quick had upset a bottle of some evil-smelling liquid over the floor of his cabin. He was wiping it up, fuming, and calling for a bucket of hot water, all at the same time. Dave was fully occupied for ten minutes and then, remembering the glasses, returned to lock the case.
To his dismay they had disappeared. That they had been stolen was obvious. There could be no other explanation. And he had promised his father to take such care of them!
In consternation he sought the cook. Barnes grew red with indignation.
"It's dollars to doughnuts one of them engine-room scum has done it," he declared. "I 'll see into this."
The second engineer was on friendly terms with the cook, and Barnes readily enlisted his sympathy.
"I 'll speak to the chief," he said, "and we 'll make a search."
Making a search, however, was not as easy as it sounded. The only hope was that the thief had not had time to secrete the glasses in one of the many inaccessible nooks with which every ship abounds. Barnes and the second engineer together went through the men's quarters, but without success. Those deck-hands who were off duty—as a class, deck-hands hate a thief on board like poison—offered to join in the search, and soon half a dozen men were rummaging in every hole and corner. Dave's hopes were sinking lower and lower. He was beginning to regard the glasses as gone forever, when Barnes started to ferret about in the after wheel-house; and there he came upon them hidden away on the top of a beam.
"You 're not fit to have a ten-cent spy-glass," he snorted, glaring at Dave from under his fearsome eyebrows. "In my locker they 'll stay now till we finish the trip, except when I take 'em out to look for your brains. If I could find the scum that swiped 'em I'd make chop suey of him, to feed Mr. Quick with. Just about the sort of diet to suit him."
"Hello, what's the cap'n up to?" he went on suddenly. "If he is n't turning off his course, I'm a Dutchman."
Going to the side of the boat he saw they were heading directly for a steamer which lay with a heavy list, perhaps five miles away. No smoke emerged from her funnel. Adjusting the glasses, the cook examined the craft for a while.
"By jiminy!" he exclaimed. "If she ain't a derelict, I 'll eat my hat."
CHAPTER V
IN WHICH THE PACIFIC QUEEN LOSES A PRIZE
"A derelict," Dave said, not quite sure what a derelict was. "Does n't that mean a—"
"A derelict, my son," said Barnes, "is the sort of thing a cap'n spends all his life lookin' for, but most generally he does n't find it; and even when he finds it, it might be lucky and it might be powerful unlucky. If the old man has a hoodoo, he 'll either find the derelict in the dark by punching bow on into it, or the derelict won't be worth the trouble of takin' to port. But if the skipper who runs across it is one of them people that can't go wrong, he 'll be able to tow the thing into port and live happy ever after on what he gets out of the salvage."
Dave, consumed with curiosity, held out his hand for the glasses.
"Away, child, away," commanded the cook with his eyes still glued to them. "Here is work for men, not infants. A two-thousand-ton steamer, as I live. We 'll all have rings on our fingers and bells on our toes after this, for the cap'n doesn't get all the salvage money. I dunno what share the cook gets, eggsactly, but it ought to be about half, I reckon. You 'll pick up a few hundred dollars too, kid, maybe, though I'm sure you don't deserve it. Here, take a squint through these binoculars; though you don't deserve that, either."
Dave, rapidly growing more excited as they ran nearer the vessel, tried to discern some sign of life on board her, but could not. He did not understand quite what the cook meant about salvage, though it sounded good.
The engine-room telegraph rang, and the Pacific Queen slowed down. The order came from the bridge for a boat to be swung out. Mr. Quick, hustling a crew into her, took charge and put off to the other vessel. Everybody waited impatiently for their return. The ship bobbing up and down, a hundred yards away, had evidently encountered trouble of some sort. Her bows were dangerously low in the water, as if the forward compartments were flooded, and there was a list which made one think she was going to topple over any minute. A number of plates were stove in, showing she had hit something with tremendous force.
The boarding party remained away half an hour, and on his return the chief mate reported that the vessel was the Miriam, of Boston, apparently laden with a general cargo. She was deserted and sinking. The forward hold and engine-room were full of water, and he thought that only the bulkheads holding out were saving her. Once the pressure of water broke those down, she would sink.
"She's been worth a power of money, Mr, Quick," commented Captain Chisholm, "to say nothing of the cargo in her. I guess I 'll just slip over myself and see what sort of a chance there is of doing anything with her. She's been in collision during a gale, and the boat that hit her probably took the men off. We 're within twenty-four hours' run of Charleston. A salvage job like this would just tickle me to death. If it can possibly be done, Mr. Mate, I 'm going to try it."
The captain's inspection of the derelict was not so lengthy.
"There's a sporting chance of getting her into dock," he announced as he climbed back onto the Pacific Queen, "but there is n't a minute to lose. We must get the pumps to work immediately. It will be tricky work, because she may sink like a stone when she does go. Now, Mr. Quick, get that new manila hawser bent on to her, and look alive there. You 'll want a dozen men on her. Better take only volunteers, as it's risky."
Volunteers were ready enough. Dave moved forward to join them, but Barnes pulled him back by the ear.
"That's work for men, not babies, did n't I tell you?" he said. "Besides, who d'you s'pose is going to wash the dishes on this packet if you go and get drownded? It's no use me askin' the cap'n to do it, and I'm sure I won't. Yon is a death-trap, lad. It's a desperate chance to make big money, and, mark my words, they 'll hang on to the last minute. We 'll get our share of the salvage money just the same, so stop where you are. Blow you, anyway; you 're more trouble than you 're worth!"
In the next few minutes Dave learnt what real hustling at sea was.
Mr. Quick knew the art of driving men in an emergency, and in an incredibly short time the derelict was pulling heavily behind the Pacific Queen at the end of the long hawser, and looking strangely awkward with her heavy list. Mr. Quick's task was a formidable one, but he set about it with grim determination, for the prize was one well worth having. There was a ground swell running, but no water was coming inboard; so after having hand pumps rigged up and setting four men to work at top speed on these, he had the hatches ripped off. As he had surmised, the cargo had shifted badly, and that was what made her lean over so perilously.
