One could almost hear the creaking of knee and elbow joints when the five boys turned out the next morning. Despite Hal’s prediction, this was at an early hour. For, while the sea was yet running before the remnant of the wind, the sun came up on a cloudless sky. Captain Joe’s clothes dryer had worked splendidly, and by seven thirty o’clock, the rescuing crew was itself again—refreshed and reclothed.
Before breakfast, Captain Joe and Tom visited both the captain and the owner of the steamer’s cargo. They reported these facts: The vessel was the Elias Ward, of Charleston, South Carolina—800 tons gross, and commanded by Captain Martin Hobson, of St. Augustine. It had been chartered by W. L. Hawkins, a lumber dealer from Michigan, for a trading cruise in the West Indies, mainly to secure San Domingo mahogany in Hayti. In this, it had been wholly successful.
“Captain Hobson,” explained Tom, “don’t know what’s happened—he’s wanderin’ in his[127] head. We gave him some water, but we don’t know whether he ought to be fed. Mr. Hawkins can’t get out o’ his bunk. But he’s takin’ medicine.”
“Well,” asked Mac, “since we’ve got two sick ones aboard, what’s next? Are you kids goin’ on to the Anclote Club house?”
The other boys looked about with puzzled expressions. Captain Joe answered by shaking his head.
“Not dis week,” he announced positively. “We make breakfast, then work. There is plenty coal. Get up steam, and start de pumps. In half hour, in the Three Sisters, I go to Pensacola. To-night, I return with tug. We tow de steamer to Pensacola.”
“We all got to go back?” began Hal, with a half wail.
“Certain’,” went on Captain Joe. “We not leave the steamer now.”
“Why not?” began Bob. “That is, as soon as Mr. Hawkins is well enough to take charge. She’s all right here. We can telephone for a tug from Mill View.”
Tom’s face showed a strange smile. He looked at Captain Joe, and the smile broadened[128] into a grin. Then he beckoned the other boys closer.
“Why not?” he repeated. “For one reason, she’s too valuable.”
Mac suddenly slapped his knee and let out a yell.
“By cracky,” he shouted. “I hadn’t thought of that. What’s she worth, Captain Joe?”
Captain Joe was smiling too, but he only answered:
“She good money.”
Hal and Bob were still puzzled.
“Don’t you understand?” exclaimed Tom. “We’ve saved this craft. We’re going to land her safely in port, and then—”
“The court’ll give us a good part of her value as salvage,” concluded Mac. “We’ve earned it, and we’re all a goin’ to be rich.”
The opening of the club house would have to be postponed a week. Breakfast was cooked, the captain and the cargo owner made as comfortable as possible—the latter also being notified of the program of his rescuers—fire was started to provide steam for the pump, and then an examination was made of the cargo.
The boys did not ask Mr. Hawkins the value of his freight, and he volunteered no information.[129] But, whatever its value, the entire hold was packed with squared mahogany logs. There were also a few other logs of lesser size.
“This stuff is worth a good deal, isn’t it?” asked Bob, as the boys surveyed the heavy, curiously marked logs.
“That depends,” answered Mac—wise in all things pertaining to shipping or the sea trade of Pensacola. “If these sticks came from Central America, they ain’t so much. I’ve seen mahogany ’at didn’t bring more’n ten dollars a log. Wa’n’t wuth much more’n cedar. But,” and he closed an eye, “ef they’s San Domingo logs, an’ the geezer ’at owns ’em says they is, I seen one o’ that kind sell right on the dock in Pensacola fur a thousan’ bones. Them thousand dollar boys is what they shave up fur veneer—all curly and wriggly.”
“A thousand dollars apiece?” exclaimed Hal.
“I ain’t sayin’ that,” explained the knowing Mac, “but even ef they’s one ur two o’ that sort in the bunch, we ain’t been workin’ fur nothin’.”
“Do you mean to say,” broke in Bob, “that whoever owns this boat and the man ’at owns these logs has to pay us the price o’ them for savin’ ’em?”
“No,” explained Tom, breaking in; “but they pay part of the value of both—depends on the risk the rescuers took, and whethah the wreck would have been a loss without theah assistance. Sometimes, it’s half—sometimes less—an’ sometimes more.”
“Does I git any sheer ef yo’ all gits paid?” broke in Jerry Blossom suddenly.
“My own judgment,” Tom answered, “is that every one ought to share alike. That means Captain Joe, Jerry and all the rest. I don’t know by rights if we ought really to set up any claims—but if we do, let’s all share alike.”
“Not set up any claims!” exclaimed Mac belligerently. “An’ why not? They wouldn’t been a stick o’ this timber saved, ef it hadn’t been for the old Escambia. An’ the steamer ’at carried it would ’a been suckin’ sand on the bar afore this.”
“Yas, sah,” spoke up Jerry. “Ah’s done heered ’bout dat what yo’ call ’em. De law makes yo’ take him—yo’ all ain’t got no choice.”
“What do you say, Captain Joe?” asked Tom.
“De man you wuk fo’ gets de money. ’Tain’t none mine.”
“I vote we put in a claim,” spoke up Hal, “and that we divide whatever we get into six piles—”
“I shorely done take a big risk,” broke in Jerry. “We all boun’ to git big pay. I kin use de money. Dese clothes—”
“Say, Kids,” interrupted Hal, his face lighting up with enthusiasm, “we’ll put our money together, and buy a good cruising yacht, and then we can surely go to Anclote Island—”
“Ah’s gwine to need all my sheer,” objected Jerry, in some alarm.
“I meant the Anclote Club members, Jerry,” explained Hal, laughing.
But instantly his laugh died out. As he realized what he had said, Mac, the “expelled” member, shifted uneasily. The latter said nothing, but the boys looked with embarrassment at each other. There was a quick whispered conversation and then Tom said:
“Mac, after last night, we think everybody ought to kind o’ forget our row. I reckon you’d vote for Bob now, an’ he ain’t nothin’ against you. We’ve taken back what we did, and you all are a membah again—if you want to be.”
Mac’s years of “toughness” and his bullying life had hardened him until he had no way............