Part 20 (1/2)

”Better wait till Joe comes,” he told himself. ”The more people there are to hear it, the more chances there are of its getting back to sh.o.r.e.”

Joe blew back into the cabin a few moments later.

”Everything all right?” Curlie shouted.

At the sound of his voice, the girl started, looked up, then smiled; Joe nodded his head.

”Say, Joe, I'm hungry,” shouted Curlie. ”There's bread in the forward cabin and some milk in a thermos bottle. Couldn't manage coffee, but toast and milk'd be fine.”

The girl sprang to her feet as if to go for the required articles, but Joe pushed her back into her chair.

”Not for you,” he shouted. ”It's gettin' dangerous.”

”Joe,” said Curlie, ”there's a small electric toaster there in the cabin. Disconnect it and bring it in here. We'll connect it up and make the toast right here.”

When the toaster had been connected, the girl, happy in the knowledge that she was able to be of service, toasted the bread to a brown quite as delicate as that to be found on a landlubber's table.

”Now,” said Curlie as they sat enjoying this meager repast, ”I've got something to tell you, something that I want someone else beside me to know. It's going to be an ugly storm and the _Kittlewake_ is no trans-Atlantic liner. We may all get back to sh.o.r.e. We may not. If one of you do and I don't, I want you to tell this. It--it will sort of justify my apparent rashness in dragging you off on this wild trip.”

He moved his chair close to the stationary seat of the girl and, gripping one of the arms of the seat, motioned Joe to move up beside them. It was only thus that he might be heard unless he were to shout at the top of his voice.

”You know,” he said, a strange smile playing over his thin lips, ”you folks probably have thought it strange that I should go rus.h.i.+ng off on a trip like this without any positive knowledge that those two boys had started for that mysterious island shown on the map and spoken of in the writing on the back of the map, but you see I had more information than you thought. This I know for an almost positive fact,” he leaned forward impressively: ”The mysterious island of the chart does not exist.”

”Oh!” the girl started back.

”It's a fact,” said Curlie, ”and I'll give you my proof.”

He paused for a second. The girl leaned forward eagerly. Joe was all attention.

”When I went into that big library,” he continued, ”I was determined to find all the truth regarding that map that was to be had there. While you were looking at those ancient maps,” he turned to Gladys, ”I went into a back room and there the lady in charge gave me some bound reproductions of ancient maps to look at and some things to read, among them a volume of the 'Scottish Geographic Magazine.' I read them through carefully and--”

Suddenly he started violently, then clasped the receivers close to his ears.

”Just a moment. Getting something,” he muttered.

A second later he seized a pencil and marked down upon a pad a series of dots and dashes.

Then, wheeling about, he put his fingers on a key to flash back an answer.

”It's the boys,” he shouted. ”Got their location. Joe, decode what I wrote there, then go ask the skipper how much we're off it.”

He turned once more to click off his message, a repet.i.tion of the first one; then he shouted a second message into his transmitter.

Joe Marion studied the pad for a moment, then rushed out of the cabin.

All alert, Curlie sat listening for any further message which might reach him. Presently Joe returned. There was a puzzled look upon his face.