Part 11 (1/2)

Just here one of the officer's a.s.sistants came up and whispered in the ear of his superior. He pointed at the forecastle.

”Yes, yes,” nodded Silverado, ”take a look there, and be thorough.”

”Getting warm!” chuckled Dave to himself--”the precious hypocrites!”

The man went into the forecastle and came out again. He looked into the water barrel. He lifted some box covers. Just as Dave guessed he would do, he kept up all this wise pretense until he landed up against the forecastle cubby-hole.

”I have found something,” he announced, after groping in the hole. He had brought forth the stone jar.

”Ah, what is this?” spoke the officer. ”Captain,” he added, a.s.suming great sudden gravity as he inspected the jar, ”this looks pretty serious.”

”Well, what's the mare's nest now?” petulantly demanded Broadbeam.

The officer held up the jar in plain view.

”It is what we expected to find,” he announced severely. ”It is opium.

We know that last week a tramp steamer landed a lot of the stuff on the island. The labels show that this is part of the same contraband cargo.

I declare this package and the _Swallow_ under confiscation, and arrest you. You must come to the governor.”

”Oh, that so?” slowly spoke Captain Broadbeam, his shoulders hunching dangerously. ”I never saw that jar before, and, s.h.i.+ver my timbers!”

roared the incensed old captain, shaking his fist vigorously under Silverado's nose, ”I don't know the stuff is opium.”

”Oh, yes, captain,” insisted the officer. ”The labels are unmistakable.

Look for yourself. Ough!”

With smart-Aleck readiness the suave Silverado untwisted the jar cover.

With a sharp cry he dropped it. In a cloud, a stream, there instantly darted out from the receptacle an angry procession of hornets.

They lit on those nearest to the jar, the officer and his a.s.sistants.

One of his aides was a special target. The poor fellow ran to the side to escape them. He set up renewed yells as they stuck, pestered, and stung. Then, splas.h.!.+ he took a reckless header into the waters of the creek to escape his pertinacious tormentors.

Silverado lost all his usual calm dignity trying to evade the little pests. He bit his lips and scowled as the captain faced him with a loud derisive guffaw.

”Here, take away your contraband goods with you,” shouted Broadbeam, dropping jar and cover into the yawl, as the official hastily descended into it, a crestfallen look on his face. ”Ready, there,” he added to the boatswain. ”Steam up.”

”Aye, aye, sir.”

Captain Broadbeam stepped to the little pilot house. He touched an electric b.u.t.ton.

Dave watched the maneuver with a glowing face. He was full of the successful guess he had made concerning the planted opium, but he did not try to explain that just then.

The jar of the starting steam below communicated a vibrating thrill to his nerves. Dave ran up to Amos Fearless as the veteran diver crossed the deck.

”Good news, father!” cried Dave gayly, ”We've started.”

”Hey and hallo for me paternal dominions--once more for the Windjammers'