The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jack North's Treasure Hunt, by Roy Rockwood This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Jack North's Treasure Hunt Daring Adventures in South America Author: Roy Rockwood Posting Date: August 29, 2012 [EBook #7847] Release Date: April, 2005 First Posted: May 22, 2003 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK NORTH'S TREASURE HUNT *** Produced by Curtis A. Weyant and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team Down they plunged side by side from the island into the water JACK NORTH’S TREASURE HUNT Or, DARING ADVENTURES IN SOUTH AMERICA by ROY ROCKWOOD AUTHOR OF “THE RIVAL OCEAN DIVERS,” “THE CRUISE OF THE TREASURE SHIP,” “A SCHOOLBOY’S PLUCK,” ETC. Illustrated THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO. CLEVELAND NEW YORK Made in U.S.A. Copyright, 1907, by Chatterton-Peck Company Press of The Commercial Bookbinding Co. Cleveland CONTENTS I. A Chance for a Position II. The Test of Strength III. A Long Trip Proposed IV. Just in Time V. On the Island of Robinson Crusoe VI. A Terrible Mistake VII. A Plea of the Enemy VIII. The Lonely Pimento IX. Jack Becomes an Engineer X. A Narrow Escape XI. Under the Head of a Jaguar XII. Put to the Test XIII. Precious Moments XIV. The Attack on the Train XV. The Treasure Island XVI. At the Boiling Lake XVII. In the Nitrate Fields XVIII. An Alarm of Fire XIX. Chilians on Both Sides XX. Preparations for Departure XXI. A Panic on Shipboard XXII. The Fate of Plum Plucky XXIII. Jenny XXIV. Jack and the Ocelot XXV. In the Quicksands XXVI. A Night in the Jungle XXVII. Jack and the Big Snake XXVIII. Back from the Dead XXIX. The Treasure of the Boiling Lake XXX. A Ride for Life--Conclusion JACK NORTH’S TREASURE HUNT CHAPTER I A CHANCE FOR A POSITION “Where are you going, Jack?” “To the shops of John Fowler & Company.” “To look for a job?” “Yes.” “Then you are in luck, for I heard this morning that they want another striker in the lower shop at once.” “Then I’ll strike for the opening at once, and my name is not Jack North if I don’t land it.” “It will be John Slowshanks when you do get it, mind me!” cried out another voice, from an alley-way near at hand, and before Jack North or his companion could recover from their surprise the speaker, a tall, awkward youth of twenty, sped up the street at the top of his speed. The scene was in Bauton, a large manufacturing city of New England. The first speaker was a workman at the shops that had been mentioned, but beyond the fact that he placed the youth before him in the way of getting work, he needs no special introduction. The other person was a lad of eighteen, with brown, curly hair, blue eyes, and a round, robust figure. His name was John North, and he was the son of a couple in humble circumstances. “Take care!” cried the man, “that sneak will get in ahead of you, and then a snap of your little finger for your chance of getting the job at Fowler’s.” Jack North did not stop to hear his friend through. He was very much in need of a situation, and he knew the young man who had rushed in ahead of him as a bitter enemy. That fact, coupled with his desire to get work, caused him to dash up the street as fast as he could run. Naturally the appearance of the two running at such a headlong pace aroused the attention of the passers-by, all of whom stopped to see what it meant. Others rushed out of their houses, offices or workshops to ascertain the meaning of the race, until the street was lined with excited, anxious men, women and children. “Is it fire?” asked an old, gray-headed man, and another, catching only the sound of the last word, repeated it and thus a wild alarm was quickly spread. Meanwhile Jack North had found that he could not overtake his rival. He was not a fleet runner, while the other had gotten a start of him, which he could not hope to make up. But he was too fertile in his resources to despair. In fact he was never known to give up a contest which he had once fairly entered. This persistence in whatever he undertook was the secret of Jack North’s wonderful success amid environments which must have discouraged less courageous hearts. Still it looked to his enemy, as the latter glanced back to see him leisurely turn into a side street leading away from their destination, that he had nothing further to fear from him. “Thought you would be glad to give in,” cried out the delighted seeker of the situation at the engine shops, and believing that he had nothing further to fear, the awkward youth slackened his gait to a walk. Though Jack turned into the alley at a moderate pace, as soon as he had gone a short distance, he started again into a smart run. “I shall have farther to go,” he thought, “but Fret Offut will think I have given up, and thus he will let me get in ahead of him.” This seemed the truth, when, at last, Jack came in sight of the low-walled and scattering buildings belonging to John Fowler & Co., engine builders. Fret Offut was nowhere in sight, as Jack entered the dark, dingy office at the lower end of the buildings. A small sized man, with mutton chop side whiskers, engaged in overhauling a pile of musty papers, looked up at the entrance of our hero. “Want a job as striker, eh?” he asked, as Jack stated his errand. “I believe Henshaw does want another man. I will call him. What is your name?” “Alfret Offut, sir. It’s me that wants the job, and it’s me it belongs to.” It was Jack North’s enemy who spoke, as he paused on the threshold panting for breath, while glaring at our hero with a baleful look. “How come you here?” he demanded of Jack, a second later. “My feet brought me here, and with less slowness than yours, judging by your appearance,” replied young North. With the arrival of the second person on the scene, the clerk had turned away to find Henshaw, and while he was gone the rival youths stood glaring upon each other. After a short time a big, red-faced, soot-be-grimed man appeared, saying as he reached them: “If Offut will come this way I will talk with him.” “Henshaw,” said the clerk simply, returning to his work, leaving the newcomer to attend to the visitors as he thought best. “Ha--ha!” laughed young Offut, softly, as he followed the foreman, “where are you now, Jack North?” Though Jack gave slight token of his feelings, he was more vexed at this usurpation of his rights than he cared to show. He lost no time in starting after the others in the direction of the shop. “I’m going on twenty-one,” Offut said, as they stopped at the door, “and there ain’t a chap as can outlift me.” “Beg your pardon, Mr. Henshaw,” said Jack, brushing up, “but it’s I who am after the job and to whom it belongs. Mr. Jacobs--” “Is your name Alfret Offut?” interrupted the other youth sharply in the midst of Jack’s speech. “I reckon Henshaw knows who he is talking to.” “It was me Mr. Jacobs recommended the place to, and you are trying to steal it from me,” cried Jack. “You are telling a likely story, Jack North, and if you say another word I’ll hit you. Henshaw called for me, and it’s me he’s going to give work.” Mr. Henshaw, who for the first time seemed to realize the situation, looked surprised, as he gazed from one to the other. Disliking to raise a fuss Jack remained silent at first, but he felt bound to say: “I was first at the office, and I claim--” “You’d claim the earth, as far as that is concerned, you miserable chick of nobody!” broke in Offut. The last was more than Jack could stand, and stepping quickly forward, he cried: “Stop, Fret Offut! you have said enough. I don’t want any quarrel with you, but I am as good as you.” “Are yer?” demanded the fiery Offut, whose greatest delight seemed to be in provoking a quarrel. “I can lick you out of your boots, and I will do it before I will let you get in here.” By this time Mr. Henshaw, a rather rough man, as slow as he was of comprehension, was interested in the dispute, and not averse to encouraging sport of the kind, he said: “That’s it, boys; fight it out. I’ll hire the lad that downs the other.” “Then the job is as good as mine!” cried Fret Offut, rushing at Jack with great bluster and no regard to fairness. CHAPTER II THE TEST OF STRENGTH If taken unawares, Jack North did not allow his enemy to get very much the advantage of him. As the other rushed forward, expecting to overpower him by sheer force, he met him squarely in a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery. Mr. Henshaw seemed delighted, and he cried out: “Limber up, lads, limber up! A job to him that comes out on top! Hi, there!” Sundry other exclamations came from the excited foreman at every change of the situation, while several spectators, attracted to the place by the out-cries, gathered about the young contestants, lending their voices to the confusing sounds of the scene. While Fret Offut was taller and larger than Jack North, he lacked the latter’s firm-set muscles, and what was of even greater account, his unflinching determination to win. Our hero never knew what it was to possess a faint heart, and that is more than half the battle every time. Thus when young Offut crowded him back against the wall of the building, and every one present felt sure he must be overpowered, Jack set his lips more firmly together and renewed his resistance with redoubled effort. Then, as he struck his foot against a piece of scrap iron and reeled backward in spite of all he could, his friends groaned, while Fret Offut cried, exultantly: “Ho, my fine cub, down you go this time! Henshaw--” But Mr. Henshaw never knew what was to be said to him, neither did the young bully ever realize fully just what followed. Jack, concentrating all the strength he possessed, rallied. He threw out his right foot in such a way as to catch his antagonist behind his left knee, when the latter suddenly found himself sinking. At the same time the grasp on his collar tightened, while with almost superhuman power he was flung backward. With such force did Jack handle his adversary that he sent him flying several yards away, where he fell in a pool of dark, slimy water. The spectators cheered heartily, while Mr. Henshaw clapped his grimy hands and shouted at the top of his voice: “Well done, my hearty! That’s a handsome trick and well worth a job.” Fret Offut arose from his unwelcome bath, dripping from head to foot with the nasty mess, presenting a most unprepossessing appearance. The foreman was turning back into the shop, followed by Jack, and the crowd was rapidly dispersing. “Hold on!” he bawled, “that wasn’t fair. I tripped--stop, Henshaw! don’t let my job go to that miserable thief.” Getting no reply to his foolish speech, Offut followed the others into the shop. His appearance being so ridiculous he was greeted with cries of derision from the workmen, which only made him the more angry and belligerent. “I’ll get even with you for this, Jack North!” he cried, “if I follow you to the end! My father always said your family was the meanest on earth, and now I know it is so. But you shall hear from me again.” With these bitter words the defeated youth, who really had no one to blame but himself for his ill-feeling, disappeared, though it was not to be long before he was to reappear in the stirring life of Jack North, and bring him such troubles as he could not have foreseen. It proved that Mr. Henshaw was anxious for another workman, and after asking Jack a few questions, told the lad he might begin his task at once. The pay was small, less than five dollars a week, but Jack did not let that cause him to refuse the opportunity. He needed the money, for his folks were in poor circumstances, and he went about his work with a stout heart. He quickly proved an adept workman, observing, rapid to learn and always diligent, so much so that the foreman took a strong liking to him. Several days passed and it became evident to Jack that if he had left one enemy outside the shop, he had another within, who was ready to improve every opportunity to trouble him. This was a small, thinfaced man who worked with him, and whose name was Mires. Besides being physically unable to carry an even end with him, this workman was prone to shirk every part of his work that he could, this portion falling largely on Jack to do in addition to his own. Jack paid no heed to this, however, but kept about his work as if everything was all right, until a little incident occurred which completely changed the aspect of affairs. Unknown to our hero, there had been a practice of long standing among the workmen of “testing” every new hand that came in, by playing what was believed to be a smart trick upon him. The joke consisted in sending the new hand in company with a fellow workman to bring from a distant part of the shop a pair of wheels, one of which was of iron and weighed over four hundred pounds, while its mate was made of wood and finished off to look exactly like its companion. The workman in the secret always looked out and got hold of the wooden wheel, which he could carry off with ease, while his duped associate would struggle over the other to the unbounded amusement of the lookers-on. It heightened the effect by selecting a small, weak man to help in the deception, and Henshaw, liking this joke no less than his men, on the third day of Jack’s apprenticeship, said: “North, you and Mires bring along them wheels at the lower end. Don’t be all day about it either,” speaking with unusual sharpness. “Yes, sir.” In a moment every one present was watching the scene, beginning to smile as they saw Mires start with suspicious alacrity toward the wheels. Some of the men, in order to get as good a view as possible of the expected exhibition, stationed themselves near at hand, having hard work to suppress their merriment in advance. “Purty stout, air ye?” asked Mires, as he and Jack stood by the wheels. “I never boasted of my strength,” replied Jack, beginning to wonder why so much interest was being manifested over so slight a matter. His surprise was increased at that moment by discovering Fret Offut among the spectators, his big mouth reaching almost from ear to ear with an idiotic grin. “Come to see the fun!” declared the latter, finding that he had been seen by Jack. “I’ll take this one,” said Mires, stooping over the nearest wheel which was half buried in dust and dirt. Then, without any apparent effort, the small sized workman raised the wheel to his shoulder and walked back from the direction whence they had come. “Now see the big gawk lift his!” exclaimed Fret Offut, who had somehow been let into the secret. Still ignorant of the deception being played upon him, Jack North bent over to lift the remaining wheel. CHAPTER III A LONG TRIP PROPOSED Having seen Mires carry off the other wheel with comparative ease, Jack naturally expected to lift the remaining one without trouble. His amazement may be therefore understood when, at his first effort, he failed to move it an inch from the floor. It lay there as solid as if bound down! His failure was the signal for Fret Offut to break out into a loud laugh, which was instantly caught up by the workmen, until the whole building rang with the merriment. “Baby!” some one cried. “See Mires carry his. North ain’t got the strength of a mouse!” By that time Mires had reached the opposite end of the shop, and was putting down his burden to turn and join in the outbursts over the discomfiture of his young companion. Jack had now awakened to the realization that he had been the easy victim of a scheme to cast ridicule upon him. Mires could never have carried away this wheel. The thought of the trick which had been played upon him aroused all the latent energy he possessed. He did not believe the wheel could weigh five hundred pounds, and if it did not he would lift it, as he believed he could. Thus, with the shouts and laughter of the spectators ringing in his ears, Jack stooped for a second attempt to accomplish what no one else had ever been able to do. “I’ll grunt for you!” called Offut in derision. “Spit on your hands!” said a workman. Jack compressed his lips for a mighty effort, and his hands closed on the rim of the wheel, while he concentrated every atom of strength he had for the herculean task. The cries of the onlookers suddenly stopped as they saw, to their amazement, the ponderous object rise from the floor, slowly but surely, until the young workman held it abreast of him. Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness, save for the crunching of his own footsteps, as Jack North walked across the shop and dropped his burden upon the wheel Mires had placed there. A loud crash succeeded, the heavy iron wheel having broken the imitation into kindling wood and smashed into the floor. The cries of derision were supplemented by loud calls of admiration, which rang through and through the old building until a perfect din prevailed. Fret Offut waited to see no more, but stole away unobserved by the stalwart iron workers, who crowded around their victorious companion with hearty congratulations. Jack had won the friendship of nearly all by his feat, while Henshaw at once boasted of the act. Mires, fancying that the laugh had been turned upon him, and he was about right, allowed all of the bitterness of his sullen nature to be turned against the young apprentice. In his wicked heart he vowed he would humiliate Jack in the eyes of his admirers in some way and at some time. But no opportunity came for him, as month after month passed. Jack showed a wonderfully industrious nature, and he never seemed idle. When not at work he was studying some part of the ponderous machinery about him, as if anxious to learn all there was to be known about it. The knowledge he thus obtained was to be of inestimable value to him in the scenes to come. This trait of his pleased Henshaw, who, if a rough man, was honest in his intentions, and he caused Jack’s wages to be raised to seven dollars a week. This was done in opposition to his assistant, who had taken a strange dislike to him. His reasons for this will become apparent as we proceed. About that time Jack was surprised to find that Fret Offut had found employment in the building, though it was more as a helper than as a regular workman, his chief task being to wheel the scraps of iron and waste material away and to wait upon the boss of the big steam hammer. He did not offer to speak to Jack, but the latter soon saw him holding whispered conversations with Mires and the second boss, Furniss, when he felt certain by their looks and motions that he was the subject of their remarks. Once he overheard Offut tell a companion: “I sha’n’t wheel scrap iron always and Jack North won’t be boss, either.” Jack had been at the engine works about six months, when he accidentally learned that the company were planning to ship one of their machines to South America, and that they were looking about for a suitable person to send with it, to help unload it properly and set it up. A few days later, as he was leaving the shop to go home, Henshaw came to him, saying: “Let me put a flea in your ear, Jack. John Fowler has got his eye on you for the one to go to South America.” Scarcely any other announcement could have brought greater joy to Jack, for he had a great desire to travel, and this long journey would take him away from home for many months, he felt it would be a grand opportunity. But he knew that Furniss had been working for the place, and he could not realize that such good fortune was to fall to him, so he said to Henshaw: “I thought that Furniss was sure of the chance. I heard him say as much only yesterday.” “A fig for Furniss! Old John had a long talk with me this morning, and I told him you were just the chap for the place, young and capable. He nodded his head and I could see that you were as good as taken. Of course we shall miss you, but it’s a trip a youngster like you can’t afford to miss.” “I should like to go, Mr. Henshaw, and I thank you for your kind words.” “Don’t cost nothing,” returned the bluff foreman, as he started homeward. Jack was too happy over his prospects to mind the baleful looks of Furniss the next day, or to hear the jibes of Fret Offut. Could he have foreseen the startling result he must have been bound with dismay. The following Monday, when the day’s work was done and he was leaving the shop, Mr. Henshaw came along, and slapping him on the shoulder, said: “Let me congratulate you, my lad. It is just as I said; you are going to South America,--if you will.” “It seems too good to be true, Mr. Henshaw.” “It’s the blessed truth and I know it I don’t blame you for feeling well over such an appointment, for it is something any of us might be glad of. But you deserve it.” The appearance of Furniss checked Jack’s reply. He could see the other understood that he had lost. He had another proof of the fact before he got home from Fret Offut, who said: “Feel mighty stuck up, don’t yer? But let me tell yer,’twon’t do any good.” This was the first time he had spoken to Jack since he had begun work in the shops, and our hero made no reply. The following day, as he was about to leave the shop at the close of his work, Jack was accosted by Furniss, who asked him to assist him a moment at the big hammer. Jack started at once to his help, noticing that the building was completely deserted at the time, except for the second boss and himself; even Henshaw, who generally stayed until after the workmen had left, was gone. His surprise may be imagined then when he saw Fret Offut step from behind a huge boiler as he approached. Still he did not dream of any sinister purpose in the minds of the two, and he was about to stoop to lift a piece of iron at the request of Furniss, when he discovered a bar of iron so suspended over his head from the cross timber that a slight movement on his part was sure to bring it down upon his head. No sooner had he seen his precarious situation than he started back, when Fret Offut flung a heavy slug at his feet. The effect was startling, for the concussion on the floor sent the menacing bar overhead downward with fearful force. Jack succeeded in dodging the blow so far that he escaped the full weight of the falling iron, which struck the floor endwise with a heavy thud. But before he could get beyond its reach the massive bar tipped over, falling in such way as to strike him in the side of the head, and felling him senseless to the floor. In a moment Furniss and Offut were bending over him with anxious looks on their grimy countenances. “Is he killed?” asked the younger of the twain. Jack answered the question himself by opening his eyes, though he was still too bewildered to attempt to rise. “What did you do that for?” he demanded. “Do what?” questioned Fret Offut. “You know well enough. You fixed that bar so it would hit me.” “Hear the boy talk!” came from Furniss. “It is true. If I get the chance--” “Stop, you shan’t get us into trouble,” yelled the man, in a rage. “Not much,” put in Offut. “Let’s teach him a lesson he won’t forget!” “So we will,” answered Furniss; and both started forward to attack Jack. CHAPTER IV JUST IN TIME Though still somewhat dazed by the blow on his head, Jack realized that the unprincipled twain in their desperation would stop short of no crime in order to carry out their purpose. Thus Furniss had barely laid his hand on him before he was on his feet ready to fight for his life if necessary. Flinging aside the second boss, he turned to meet the assault of Fret Offut, whom he caught by the collar and flung headlong upon a pile of scrap iron and ashes still warm from the furnace. Shrieking with pain the big youth scrambled to his feet and began to dance around as if he had a coal of fire in the heel of his shoe. Furniss rallied to grapple anew with Jack, but though a strong man he found his match. Used to hard work all of his life, Jack’s sinews seemed like bands of steel and there was no breaking from his grasp. “Help, Offut--quick!” cried Furniss, as his head was jabbed into the midst of a box of coal. “He--he’ll kill me!” spluttered the discomfited man. But Fret Offut failed for good reasons to heed the supplications of his friend. The next instant Furniss managed to get a hold on Jack which enabled him to throw him upon the floor. “Go to South America, will you?” cried the exultant Furniss. “Let that settle it,” and he aimed a furious blow at his victim’s head. But Jack was too nimble to remain still and receive whatever attack the other might rain upon him, and when Furniss’ fist descended it missed its mark, to strike plump upon the sharp edge of a bar of iron, peeling the skin on its back from knuckle to wrist. At the same time Jack turned his adversary and, clearing him, vaulted to his feet, carrying the other backwards by the impetuous movement and sending him headfirst into a bucket of water. Before he could rise Jack had caught him by the throat with one hand, and he immediately began to “churn” the other’s head up and down in the black water, while the discomfited wretch, trying in vain to break away, exclaimed in gasps: “Help--don’t--you’ll kill me! I--Of--ut--h-e-l-p--murder!” “Will you promise to let me alone after this?” demanded Jack, giving his victim another plunge in the bucket. “Yes. Let me go or I’ll tell Fowler. Oh--oh!” “Tell Fowler, will you?” “No--no! Let me go!” “You promise it?” “Yes,” spluttered the man as soon as he could speak. “I think that will be enough this time.” declared the triumphant Jack. “If I could get my hands on you, Fret Offut, I would give you a dose of the same medicine.” “I ain’t done nothing!” cried the terrified youth. “Don’t you dare to touch me!” and by that time he had reached the door, to disappear an instant later. Feeling that he had nothing more to fear from his enemies, Jack left the shop to go to his home, his mind soon occupied with thoughts of his South American voyage rather than with the more unpleasant memory of his recent trouble with young Offut and Furniss. Before going direct to his home to tell the news there, Jack sought another home that he might first break the account of his good fortune to one whose fair countenance had been in his mind’s eye all the afternoon. He knew the hardest part of his starting on his long voyage would be in tearing himself away from a certain blue-eyed damsel named Jenny Moodhead. At her home he was met by the girl’s mother, who, in answer to his inquiries for Jenny, said: “Jane is not here, and I do not see why you have not met her, as she said she was going to see you as you came from the shops. I am afraid something has happened to her.” Without further loss of time, Jack started to retrace the way to the engine shops, though going by a different course from that which he had come. He had got about half way there, and was passing near an old ruined mill, which stood more than half over the river, when he was startled by the sound of a voice, which was too familiar for him not to recognize. “Don’t you dare come any nearer, Fret Offut! Stand back, or the worst will be your own!” It was Jenny speaking, and as Jack dashed down to the side of the old mill he discovered her at the further extremity of the ruins defiantly facing young Offut, who was kept from approaching any nearer to her by a club she held in her hands, uplifted over her head. Between the two was a gulf of dark waters a dozen feet or more in width, but spanned by a plank over which the girl had evidently passed in reaching her place of retreat. “I’ll take up the plank so you can’t come back!” declared young Offut. “You see if you do not answer me in a becoming manner I can--” Fret Offut did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence before a stout hand was laid on his shoulder and he was plunged headfirst into the river. “Get out the best you can!” cried Jack North. He turned to the girl. “Has he dared so much as to lay a ringer on you, Jenny?” “Oh, Jack! I am so glad to see you! No, he had not touched me, though I don’t know what he might have done if you had not come. You won’t let him drown?” “It would serve him about right, if I did. But he will take care of himself. See, he is crawling out below the mill. Come with me, Jenny, for I have important news to tell you. I am going to South America!” “To South America! Oh, Jack, why?” “The firm want me to go, and they will pay me well for my services. I am to look after some machinery that is to be shipped.” “But you will come back?” questioned Jenny, anxiously. “Sure, as soon as my task is done. But now tell me about Fret Offut.” “Oh, there is not much to tell. He--he wanted to be sweet on me and--and I wouldn’t have it. That made him angry, and he followed me to this place, and--you saw the rest.” “I hope he won’t bother you again.” “I don’t think he will,” said Jenny. “Anyway, I’ll keep my eyes open for him.” After that Jack spent a pleasant hour in the company of the girl who was his dearest friend, and then went home to prepare for his trip of so many thousand miles. His parents already knew something about the proposed journey, so they were not much surprised. They had seen Mr. Fowler and talked it over with the manufacturer. Mrs. North did what she could to get Jack’s outfit ready for him. “I’ll be glad to leave such fellows as Fret Offut behind,” said Jack, to his father. “Fret Offut is a bully and a fool,” said Mr. North, who was a blunt-spoken man. “He will never get along in life.” Jack had spoken without knowing the truth. He was not to get rid of Fret Offut just yet, as we shall soon see. CHAPTER V ON THE ISLAND OF ROBINSON CRUSOE Ho! for South America! Bravely did the good steamer Standish keep on her long, and, at times, stormy voyage to the far distant shore of Western South America. She escaped the severest storms of the Northern Atlantic, Grossed the equatorial line in fine shape, and stemmed the farious wrath of Cape Horn in safety. But every one on board felt freer and in better spirits, when at last they entered the Pacific regions where storms are of rare occurrence. The steamer’s destination was Valparaiso, Chili, and the commander talked of getting into port shortly. Among those looking most hopefully forward to the termination of the voyage was our hero, who had been sent by his employers on the responsible errand of seeing that one of their engines was properly delivered and put into good running order. He fondly believed it was the great opportunity of his life. He was never more surprised than he was upon finding at the last moment that Fret Offut had been delegated to accompany him as helper. At first he could not believe it; but there the awkward youth was, and that he was sent for that purpose was plainly indicated by the order from John Fowler & Co. To his still greater surprise, the other seemed to have forgotten or overlooked their differences, and he greeted Jack with all the warmth of an old friend. “If he can afford to be friendly I can,” thought Jack, who was not a person to cherish long any bitterness of feeling against another, and he resolved to treat Fret as well as possible. This, coupled with that bond of sympathy for an associate one is sure to have on leaving those dear to him far behind, made the two seem somewhat like friends. Had Jack known the truth, known the frequent and long conversations his deceitful companion had held with the plotting Furniss, and how the latter had worked to get Offut sent on this voyage with him, our hero would have felt different toward the other. The second boss’s parting words had been: “Remember you owe this opportunity to me, Fret Offut, who might have gone but for my willingness to let you. Don’t forget either that if, for any reason, North does not get to Valparaiso you will step into his place, and gain the honor he is anxious to get.” This was spoken with such signs and indications as only one in the secret could understand, and young Offut nodded knowingly, as much as to say: “I understand perfectly, and will not fail in my part to gain our ends.” It may have been that the looked-for opportunity did not come, as he had expected, or that his courage failed him in his cowardly purpose, for no harm befel Jack until on the evening before the day, which, if nothing unfavorable occurred, the commander had promised would bring them within sight of land. Jack stood by the quarter-rail a long time watching the sun sink into the distant water, and then the silent coming of the stars into the firmament overhead. It was a beautiful evening, though fleecy clouds were beginning to fringe the horizon, and he was certain the whole sky would be obscured soon. But his mind was more engrossed with thoughts of his parents and Jenny at home than with the calm grandeur of a tropical sea, and he was wondering how many months must pass before he should be able to meet her, when the sound of a cat-like step behind him arrested his attention. Thinking of no harm, he turned slowly to greet the one approaching, to find himself confronted by the tall figure of Fret Offut. A look of wild fierceness was on the other’s features, and before Jack could speak his arms were uplifted, swinging overhead a belaying pin. Reading at a glance Offut’s horrible purpose, Jack attempted to seize his upraised hands, but he had barely made a move before the weapon descended upon him! With an indistinct recollection of a dull sense of pain in his head, Jack knew no more until he was brought back to consciousness by the feeling of water around him and it slowly dawned upon him that he had been sent overboard from the ship into the sea by the blow from Fret Offut. It was too dark for him to see any distance, so he listened for some sound of the steamer. Once he thought he caught the regular swish, swish of the big wheel; but he must have been mistaken, for after a moment he realized that the Standish was not within hearing. He had begun to shout for help, and this shouting he kept up until he was hoarse, and he felt that it would be better to save all of his strength in the great battle for life ahead. No one, who has not been there, can know the utter hoplessness of being castaway upon the great, boundless ocean with not even a plank to keep him from a watery grave. Jack North was brave and sanguine, but for a time he felt that it was useless for him to try and keep up. Then the thought of home and loved ones, with all the bright dreams and hopes of life, gave him the resolution to fight for victory over defeat until the very last. He had heard of sailors who had been cast away, and who had managed to keep afloat a whole night and day. Might not he keep from drowning until morning? At any rate he would not give up while he had the strength to struggle against fate. Buoyed up with hopes which he knew were groundless, he swam on and on through the dark expanse of waters girdling him. When he had gone as far as he deemed prudent he would turn upon his back and thus float upon the bosom of the great deep, borne by its ceaseless tide he knew not whither. Perhaps he was being carried further and further out to sea, or it might be he was slowly approaching the shore of the southern continent. That was the longest, most gloomy night Jack North ever knew. He saw nor heard nothing of the steamer during the long hours of darkness and desolation. With the first faint streak of daylight he scanned the surrounding sea with anxious, eager gaze. But whither he would look, north, south, east or west, not an object broke the monotony of the view. He felt that he was hopelessly lost, and he wondered in his despair if his true fate would be known. As it grew lighter he continued to watch the sea for some welcome sight, until he saw, away on his left, a dark rim on the horizon. Was it a cloud or--land? He dared not hope it was the latter at first, but as it grew plainer he felt a thrill of joy pass through his worn-out frame. “Land!” he cried, coming near drowning in the exuberance of his new-found discovery. Even after he had seen land it seemed he was doomed to disappointment. It did not appear that he had strength to reach it. Still the prospect ahead served to give power to his weary limbs and a new lease of endurance to his overworked body. As he swam nearer he saw that great pointed peaks pierced the sky wherever he looked, while abrupt walls of rock rose from the water’s edge to the height of many hundred feet. These he realized could not be scaled by him, and as he gazed on the gray, moss-covered rocks dripping with the spray of the ocean that continually beat against their rugged sides, hopelessness again came near overpowering him. Above the granite front of this lonely island, as he believed it to be, he could see stupendous ridges of reddish earth rise in countless numbers and always running back toward the centre, with here and there green pastures of grass, but he looked in vain for a break in the adamantine barrier which made this ocean-bound realm unapproachable. In his despair he was nearly overjoyed to suddenly see a boat, with two men in it, come around an angle of the rock-bound shore. He shouted as loudly as he could in his exhausted state for help, and then gave up the battle, and sank. But strong arms were near, and the boatmen, hearing his cries, rowed rapidly to his assistance and picked him up as he was going down for the last time. When Jack recovered consciousness he found himself lying on a rude couch, with a friendly face looking into his and his hand held by the same person. “Well, here you are,” said the man. “I had about given up looking for you to come out of it. You must have had a long, hard pull against the sea.” “Where am I?” asked Jack. “Who are you?” “You are on the island of Robinson Crusoe. As to myself, I am an American by the name of William Pearce. Before I shall ask you even your name I shall advise you to keep quiet and go to sleep if you can. You are among friends.” Jack was fain to follow this well-meant advice, and a few minutes later he was sound asleep. It was nearly night before he awoke, and even then his friend would not allow him to leave his couch. “Here is a dish of goat’s milk and I will soon have some warm oat porridge.” Jack felt stronger when he had partaken of the simple food offered him, but he was still too weak to move about very much, and in less than five minutes he was again asleep. He did not awake until the following morning this time, when he found himself in pretty good condition. His host being absent at the time, he had an opportunity to examine his surroundings. He found himself in a small hut built of the straw of wild oats, interwoven with long, slender sticks, while the roof was treated in the same way. Only a few rather primitive utensils of cooking and living were to be seen, and he was wondering what sort of a hermit he had fallen in with when the man entered. He was past middle life, with a sunburned, bearded and honest countenance. Upon seeing that Jack had awakened, his looks instantly brightened and he spoke cheerily: “Glad to see you looking so well. You will be all right in a day or two.” “Is it possible that I am on the island where Robinson Crusoe spent his lonely years?” “It is so.” “I can hardly believe it.” “Nevertheless it is a fact.” “If I ever get away from it I will read the story all over again.” The man laughed. “That’s natural. “But do you live here alone?” “Oh, no; there are six Chilian families here with me. But you are beating me at asking questions, for you have learned all there is to be learned of me, while I cannot name you from any descendant of old Adam.” Without further delay Jack told his companion the story of his adventures. CHAPTER VI A TERRIBLE MISTAKE Jack found Robinson Crusoe’s island a pleasanter place than he had expected. Among the ridges were many pretty valleys which were covered with patches of woods or grass. Everything bore a peculiar hue of green, from the groves of myrtle, pimento and corkwood to the grassy plots, the natural fields of oats and even to the moss-covered rocks of the spinelike mountains. The coast, as far as he could see, overhung the sea or rose perpendicular to such a height as to make it inaccessible, except at one place where a rent in the wall allowed man to enter the almost sacred domain. The rude, picturesque huts of Mr. Pearce and his associates stood in a romantic valley, where the American told him had stood the “castle” of the Crusoe inhabitant of the island, Alexander Selkirk, whose strange story has been read the wide world over. Jack had been at the island nearly a week, and he was looking forward to an opportunity to go to the mainland in a few days, when Mr. Pearce informed him that something singular had transpired during the night. “Though no vessel is in sight this morning, I am sure some one landed here last night between midnight and daylight.” “Do you think there is anything to fear from such a visit, providing some one has been here?” asked Jack. “I don’t know. This island was used several years as a penal colony for Chili, but an earthquake so upset things that the one hundred and fifty odd prisoners escaped, and since that no one has been sent here. But it has been the refuge of two or three outlaws since, as if the place had a strange fascination for them. Perhaps they think it is a safe place to flee to after what has occurred here. I have had no trouble with them worth mentioning.” “Do you think one came last night?” “Looks like it. But I will find out before I am much older. I will get the Chilians to go with us and we will explore the cells.” Jack was not kept in suspense long as to Mr. Pearce’s meaning. Upon reaching the foot of a bluff about half a mile from the ruins of what looked like an old fort, but which was now embedded in banks of clay and overgrown with moss and rank weeds, he found that the whole structure had been built of stone. “It was done by the Chilian government in 1767,” said Mr. Pearce, “and was undone by an earthquake in 1835. This you see here nearest was the front wall of the main rampart. But here is the greatest wonder in the hillside. This old building--fortress, as it might be truthfully called--was the abode of the officers and their men who were stationed here to watch and guard the island, while these other retreats which are marked by those black mouths were used for an altogether different purpose.” Mr. Pearce pointed, as he spoke, to numerous dark openings in the side of the hill, there being many completely hidden by the rank ferns hanging in festoons at their entrance. “It was in these pits, dug into the earth to the depth of two or three hundred feet, that the Chilian government confined their convicts, and where, if all reports be true, they underwent tortures that made life a living death. The earthquake tore down all the heavy doors, as if the elements were in league with the poor captives, every one of whom thus managed to escape. “It is in these places the fugitives who seek this island for safety conceal themselves. We can find some sign at the mouth if any one has entered a cell since yesterday.” He then led the way along the broken-down entrances of the underground excavations, now occupied by bats, toads and vermin, but where once miserable wrecks of manhood had found a terrible punishment for their crimes. A wild goat sprang out from one of the cells and bounded away, but no trace of a human being was found, until at last Mr. Pearce stopped before one cell which was reached by descending several stone steps. “This was one of the cells for exceptionally bad prisoners,” said Mr. Pearce. “It is not as deep as some of the others, but reeks with a cold sweat, and the air is so damp and chilly as to make one shiver the moment he enters. Just think of the poor wretches confined here, where no ray of sunlight could ever reach them, and no living soul to pity them in their hopeless despair! This does not run into the earth more than twenty-five feet. Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine; see if those are not fresh footprints.” “They are,” replied Jack, as soon as he had made a hasty examination; “and I am sure they are made by an American shoe!” “Whew!” exclaimed Mr. Pearce, “that makes it more mysterious, and it behooves us to move with great caution. One of us had better remain on the outside, while the other makes an exploration of the den. Which will you do?” “I will go inside, if it makes no difference to you, only I wish you would let me have one of your pistols.” “Of course, and you can take this knife, too. Move cautiously, for if there is an American run to earth in there, you may count on it that he will fight for his life. It will be different from facing one of those Chilians, who make a good deal of noise and but a little resistance.” Jack promised to act with caution, and taking the weapons tended him by his companion, he boldly pushed his way down the rough stairway leading to the dark dungeon. “Give the signal at the least sign of danger, and I will be there in a trice,” were Mr. Pearce’s parting words. “Meanwhile if you hear me whistle, don’t fail to come back as quickly as possible.” By this time Jack was at the foot of the descent, and parting the damp ferns that overhung the mouth of the cell, he was about to enter the dismal passage, when his foot struck something that rustled. Reaching down in the darkness, his hand touched a sheet of paper or parchment, which he picked up. He had hardly done this before Mr. Pearce gave a shrill whistle, which caused Jack to return to his side, wondering what had happened. His surprise may be imagined when he saw a squad of armed men drawn up in front of them! “They are Government soldiers in search of the fugitive,” whispered Mr. Pearce. “Don’t do anything rash if you value your life. Let me speak to them.” A short consultation then followed in Spanish, the new-comers all the time covering the twain with their cocked carbines. Finally Mr. Pearce turned to Jack, saying: “It is just as I thought. They are looking for an escaped prisoner-an Englishman, or rather youth, as they tell me. They think you are the one and demand your immediate surrender. The best thing you can do is to give up without resistance. I will stand by you when the time comes for the need of my help. They won’t believe a word I say now. See they are getting impatient. What answer shall I give them?” Jack, who did not understand a word that they had said, realized from their manner that he could expect no mercy from the Chilians. If Mr. Pearce could not benefit him now, how could he later? Still his only alternative seemed to be to surrender, upon the condition that he be given fair treatment at the hands of the government. But notwithstanding this stipulation, no sooner had he signified his intention of yielding without resistance than he was roughly siezed and bound. Then some of his captors dragged him back against the side of the bluff. The leader gave a few words of command to his followers, who obeyed by instantly bringing their firearms to their shoulders, pointed at Jack! “Great sun!” exclaimed Mr. Pearce, his face turning white as marble as he witnessed this summary threat, “they mean to shoot you on the spot!” He had barely uttered these startling words before the leader of the squad raised his right hand, as a signal for the marksmen to fire. CHAPTER VII A PLEA OF THE ENEMY Jack realized that only a desperate effort could save him. Mr. Pearce, whose friendship he had no reason to doubt, stood speechless and horrified at the inhuman act of the Chilians, unable to lift a finger if it would have saved his life. Jack was standing near to the entrance of the convict cell and as the Chilian commander raised a hand for his men to fire, he suddenly doubled himself up like a jack-knife, turning a complete somersault in the direction of the underground stairway. His feet had not been secured, though his hands were fastened behind him. Acting on the impulse of the moment, without any consideration for the result other than an escape from the murderous fire, he plunged head-first into the entrance at the very instant the volley of bullets sped on their deadly mission. So closely timed were the two actions that the Chilians mistook his jump for the result of their shots, and an exclamation of satisfaction left the leader’s lips, while no immediate attempt was made to reach the side of their victim. This enabled Jack to regain his feet and to disappear into the dark mouth of the cavern before his enemies had recovered from their surprise. Though severely shaken up by his precipitation into this retreat, unheeding the creeping creatures under his feet, which made a furious rush to and fro, Jack groped his way further and further into the gloomy place. The damp, sweaty walls covering him with a slimy moisture. Now and then some of the loosened earth would fall upon him, adding to the uncanny experience of his advance. He expected the Chilians would follow him, but he hoped in some way he might escape them. He kept on without hearing any sound of a pursuit, until he was suddenly conscious of being confronted by some one, while a trembling voice called out from the darkness ahead: “Stop! I am armed, and you come nearer at the peril of your life!” It was too dark for him to see any o...