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CHAPTER VII.
A STRANGE SAIL APPEARS

“I am perfectly serious,” resumed Professor Grigg solemnly.

“The idea was such a new one that I admit it staggered me a bit,” explained Nat hastily.

“Suppose you summon your friends, and I will explain in more detail,” rejoined the professor.

Joe, who was polishing up the brass work and putting things to rights generally on the storm-battered craft, was nothing loath to obey Nat’s summons to the bridge. Ding-dong Bell announced that his engines were in good running order and could be left to themselves for a time. So it was not long before they all, including Mr. Tubbs, were grouped in interested attitudes about the man of science.

“As Mr. Tubbs knows,” said the professor, “it was our original plan to resume our voyage on the Tropic Bird, following our observations and picture making at the volcanic islands. Our destination was to be the coast of Chile. From there we were to go in search of a lost Inca city, which is described in documents recently discovered.”

“G-g-g-g-g-gee wer-w-w-w-whiz!” sputtered Ding-dong.

“Hush!” admonished Nat, who could hardly attend to his steering for interest. As for Joe Hartley, his eyes fairly bulged in his head.

“A lost Inca city,” he murmured. “Sounds good to me.”

“Is nothing known of the location of the place?” inquired Nat.

“Not except in a general way,” was the reply. “It is known to be situated on an island in the midst of a lake high up on an Andean plateau in Bolivia.”

“Like the one on Lake Titicaca in Peru,” said Nat.

“Ah, you have read of that?” said the professor approvingly. “Yes, from the documents which came into the possession of the institute as the gift of a traveler in Chile, it is probable that the ruins which I am commissioned to search for are very similar in character to those you have mentioned.”

“How are they to be reached?” asked Joe.

The professor smiled.

“From what we have been able to learn,” he said, “earthquakes have destroyed the roads formerly used, and there is no way of reaching the lake by land – ”

“Then – then – ” stammered Ding-dong helplessly.

“One must fly to them,” said the professor as calmly as if he were in a class-room. “Thanks to modern science, I believe it may be possible at last to obtain pictures and priceless relics of that forgotten civilization.”

“But where are you going to get an airship?” asked Nat, when he had recovered his breath.

As for Joe and Ding-dong, they regarded the professor in silent amazement. Mr. George Washington Tubbs merely grinned. Clearly, the idea was no startling novelty to him.

“That has been arranged for,” rejoined the professor. “A dirigible balloon of the most modern type is already at Santa Rosa, a small town on the Chilian coast. Before leaving the States, I took some lessons in operating such a craft; but really, that was hardly necessary, as Mr. Tubbs is a fairly expert operator of dirigibles, and has a knowledge of their construction and machinery.”

“Then all that you will have to do, when you reach this town, is to get the dirigible ready and then start the search for the lost city?” inquired Nat eagerly.

“That is all. It should not take long, either. The machine is packed in numbered sections. For security it has been labeled ‘Merchandise,’ and is in charge of the American consular agent, who alone knows what the boxes really contain.”

“Excuse me for saying so,” stuttered Joe; “but it sounds like – like a wonderful fairy tale.”

“It is one,” said the professor smilingly, “a fairy tale which, with the aid of you boys, I hope to make true.”

“With our assistance?” echoed Nat in an astonished tone.

“Yes. I really believe that it was Providence that threw me in the path of you boys. You are exactly the type of self-reliant, clever young Americans that I need for assistants in the work. Are you willing to charter the Nomad to me, land me on the South American coast, instead of in California, and give me your services, for a substantial compensation?”

“I – I beg your pardon,” Nat managed to choke out, “but the idea is so entirely new to us that I think we shall have to hold a consultation first.”

“Take your time,” said the professor airily; “take your time. It is characteristic of me to arrive at quick decisions, as Mr. Tubbs knows, and I don’t mind telling you that I shall be very disappointed if you don’t see your way to accommodate me. We are now almost on a straight course for the coast of South America. If, on the other hand, we landed in Santa Barbara, I should have to take steamer from San Francisco to South America, and I might arrive too late.”

“Why?” demanded Nat. “Is there any one else in search of the lost city?”

“My colleagues fear so,” was the rejoinder. “The documents passed through many hands before they reached scientific ones, and the treasures of the lost city, if they come up to all accounts, are enough to tempt any one to search for them for their intrinsic value alone.”

“Have you any idea who the men are who may prove your rivals?” asked Nat.

“I have – yes. But I do not wish to discuss that phase of the matter any more just now. Suppose you and your friends hold your consultation and then notify me of its result?”

“Very well,” agreed Nat.

Leaving the wheel in charge of the rubicund-headed Mr. Tubbs, who was a capable steersman – indeed, there didn’t seem to be much he couldn’t do – the boys withdrew to Ding-dong’s domain – to wit, the engine room.

They were below for about fifteen minutes.

When they reappeared, Nat’s face bore a radiant expression. He walked straight up to the scientist, who was gazing at the sea with an abstracted look as he studied the various forms of life that were visible in the clear water.

“Well?” he asked, facing around, clearly anxious for “the verdict.”

“Well,” repeated Nat with a smile, which was strangely at variance with his words, “I regret to report that we cannot undertake the commission you proposed – ”

“What! You cannot? But I – ”

“That is,” continued Nat, “for any compensation. But we will agree to land you and your companion at the port you desire, and further than that, we will, from that time, place ourselves under your orders in the hunt for the lost city.”

As Nat spoke these words, the dignified man of science actually capered about, and snapped his bony fingers in huge delight.

As for Mr. Tubbs, he gave a wild “Hurr-oo!” of delight.

“Hurrah for the Grigg’s expedition!” he cried.

“Three cheers!” ordered Nat, and they were given with a will. The echoes were still ringing out, when Nat gave a sharp exclamation, and pointed to the eastward.

“A strange sail!” he cried, as they all turned eager eyes on the distant speck of canvas.

CHAPTER VIII.
TRAPPED BY TWO RASCALS

“Why! why, that’s the Tropic Bird!” exclaimed the scientist in astonishment, as they drew nearer rapidly to the vessel Nat’s keen eyes had espied.

“It is, indeed,” reiterated Mr. Tubbs, his red hair seeming to bristle. “Oh, the cowardly pack of rascals! I’d just like to run alongside and give them a bit of my mind.”

“They deserve it, certainly,” admitted the professor; “but I think we had better ignore them.”

But as they came close enough to the schooner to perceive her clearly, they saw that she carried her ensign reversed. This is a signal of distress which there is no ignoring at sea, and is the universal sign of imperative need on the part of the craft displaying it.

“We must see what they want,” declared Nat, setting his wheel over and changing the course of the Motor Rangers’ vessel.

“Got any fresh water?” hailed a voice, as they came alongside.

The man who uttered the appeal was a powerfully built fellow, with a plentiful crop of black whiskers, which gave him a ferocious expression.

“That’s Captain Ralph Lawless,” whispered the professor to Nat.

At the same instant, the skipper of the Tropic Bird appeared to recognize the professor.

“Why, surely that’s Professor Grigg?” he cried out, apparently in great astonishment.

“Yes, it is, you cowardly rascal,” burst out the professor, his anger overmastering his usually placid disposition. “What do you mean by deserting us in the manner you did? We might have perished if it had not been for these brave lads and their vessel.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” muttered the man, as the Motor Rangers’ vessel drew in close alongside, “but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Couldn’t help yourself?” echoed the scientist, still angry. “How was that, pray?”

“Why, I felt my schooner being drawn in toward the islands. If I hadn’t ‘cut stick’ when I did, we’d all have been lost, and I don’t see how that would have helped you.”

This answer mollified the professor somewhat.

“So now you are in distress?” he said.

“Yes. We have run short of water. Can’t those kids let us have some?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘those kids,’ as you call them,” said the professor, with some disgust.

“How much do you want?” asked Nat, who felt less and less liking for the captain of the Tropic Bird.

“Oh, a few gallons will do. I know an island not more than a day’s sail from here, where I can refill my tanks.”

At this point, another man – a short, stout fellow, like the captain – came bustling up.

“Hullo, there, professor!” he hailed in an impudent voice. “So you came out all right, after all. Are you coming on board?”

“I am coming on board to get my things, Mr. Durkee,” was the response, “but I am not going to continue my voyage on the Tropic Bird.”

The captain looked rather dismayed at this.

“Oh, come now,” he said, “let bygones be bygones. I should be in a fine fix if I sailed home without you.”

“You ought to have thought of that when you deserted us in that cowardly fashion during the magnetic storm,” rejoined the professor.

The deck of the Nomad was almost on a level with the top of the schooner’s bulwarks, so it was easy for the professor to step from one craft to the other. He now did so, disdaining the proffered aid of Captain Lawless and his mate.

Mr. Tubbs joined him, and the two went immediately into the after-cabin of the schooner, where they had lived while on board.

While they were collecting their belongings, Nat and Joe filled a twenty-gallon keg with drinking water, and it was hoisted to the schooner’s deck. It was really more than they could spare, but Nat was a generous lad, and figured that, if necessary, they could go on short allowance till the South American coast was reached.

During the time that the boys were about this work, Captain Lawless and his mate had been holding a consultation in the lee of the deckhouse, just aft of the foremast.

“It’s going to make lots of trouble for us if we arrive in America without the professor or that chap Tubbs,” said the mate. “Besides that, too, we’ll have lost our chance of sharing in that hunt for a lost city. There ought to be enough loot in that to make us both rich.”

“That’s so,” agreed the captain. “If what those papers of the professor’s say is right, that place must be paved with gold, and when it rains it must drop diamonds.”

“Pretty near,” grinned the mate, in appreciation of his superior officer’s humor. “I wish I’d had time to go over the papers more thoroughly before that kid’s craft overhauled us. That was a good guess of yours that they’d pick up the old gent and that chap Tubbs, and the reversed ensign was a good way to get ’em to come alongside.”

“Well, now that we’ve gone this far, we may as well take the next step,” observed the captain.

“And what’s that?” asked the mate, with a peculiar glint coming into his little rat-like eyes.

“Why, fix it so that it won’t be possible for old Grigg to make trouble for us in the States.”

“How?”

“Simple enough. We can easily overpower those kids, and as for the professor and Tubbs, we’ll lock ’em in the cabin.”

“Say, cap, you are a schemer!” observed the mate, in rather sarcastic admiration, “and then I suppose we’ll sail for home and be arrested and imprisoned as pirates?”

“Not at all,” was the reply. “We don’t need to go home. South America’s good enough for me. It’s Chile that the old cove is headed for, ain’t it?”

“So his papers said.”

“All right, then. We’ll make the whole bunch prisoners, land ’em on an island some place, and then we’ll sail on to Chile ourselves, and have a try at finding this old lost city. By the way, did you make a tracing of that map you found in the professor’s desk?”

“Did I? Well, I should say so. I’ve got it in my pocketbook now. That’s likely to mean dollars and cents to us later on.”

“That’s so. Now then, you go and tell the crew what we are going to do. They won’t cut up rough about it, especially if they think there is money in it.”

“All right. I’m off. But see here, how are you going to do it? Those kids look pretty husky.”

“Bah! What can they do against eight of us? If they get too obstreperous, a tap on the head with a marlin-spike will soon quiet them.”

While the two worthies of the schooner were cold-bloodedly discussing their plans to save themselves from the consequences of their cowardly act and at the same time enrich themselves, Nat and Joe, blissfully ignorant of any such proceedings, had hoisted the water keg on board.

This done, they started aft toward the cabin to join the professor and Mr. Tubbs. They found the two companions below, busily packing up their possessions. But at the instant they entered, the professor looked up from his desk, where he was sorting papers, with a troubled expression.

“What is the matter, professor?” inquired Nat politely.

“Somebody has been tampering with my papers!” he exclaimed. “I had them arranged in a peculiar manner. And see, this lock has been forced. Oh, that rascal of a captain! If we were in a civilized port, I’d – ”

The professor’s angry tirade was interrupted in a startling manner. The door at the head of the companionway stairs was slammed abruptly to.

Warned by some intuition which he could not have analyzed, Nat bounded to the stairway and strove to reopen the door. But it resisted his stoutest efforts.

“It’s locked!” he managed to gasp, as the truth burst upon him.

“And we have been trapped by those two rascals!” exclaimed the professor.

CHAPTER IX.
SOME STRATEGY

The first effect of a sudden and utterly unexpected disaster is, usually, to produce incredulity in its victims. It was so in this case.

“Nonsense,” spoke the professor, more sharply than was his wont, “I guess, after all, I am mistaken; it must be an accident.”

“If so, it’s a remarkable one,” said Nat grimly. “The bolt has been slid into a hasp on the outside.”

“Woof!” ejaculated Mr. Tubbs. “Then we are in the position of the mouse that wandered into a nice snug trap.”

“That’s the way it looks to me,” was Nat’s rejoinder. “What do you make of it, Joe?”

The stout lad had, by this time, joined Nat on the stairway. But their combined efforts failed to budge the door.

“It’s locked sure enough,” replied Joe. “Hush!”

“What’s up?”

“I thought I heard a sound of whispering on the outside.”

“So did I. That means there is some one out there listening to see how we are taking it. Let’s give the door a good pounding. Maybe we can make them give some explanation.”

The idea was voted a good one. The two lads shook and banged on the door with all the vigor they possessed.

They were rewarded by hearing a gruff voice growl out:

“Ain’t a bit of use your shaking that door. It’ll hold till we get good and ready to open it.”

“That’s Captain Lawless,” declared the professor.

He raised his voice.

“What do you mean by this outrage?” he loudly demanded.

“Now, perfusser, don’t get hot in the collar,” was the rough advice hurled back at him. “I knows what I’m doin’. You don’t think that I’m goin’ to stand trial before a maritime court just on your account, do you?”

“You precious rascal!” hailed Mr. Tubbs. “I’d like to have my hands on you for about five minutes.”

No rejoinder came this time. Evidently the skipper was not in a mood to bandy words. As a matter of fact, he was half beginning to regret his action in imprisoning the adventurers. To use the vernacular, he was rather apprehensive that he had “bitten off more than he could chew.”

“We’ve got to get out of this somehow.”

It was fifteen minutes later, after an interval devoted to a discussion of their situation, that the professor spoke.

“Agreed,” struck in Mr. Tubbs, “but how in the name of the immortal Abe Lincoln are we going to do it?”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Nat suddenly. “See that old lounge in the corner there?”

They nodded and waited for his next words.

“It’s old and rickety, but it’s made of stout timbers. What’s the matter with using that for a battering ram?”

“Excellent!” exclaimed the professor, catching his meaning. “But what are we going to do if we get out of here?”

“That’s a logical inquiry,” said Mr. Tubbs. “We haven’t got any weapons, and those rascals may be well armed. I know that the captain and the mate always carry revolvers. I’m not sure about the others, though.”

“Humph!” murmured Nat. “I hadn’t thought of that. Tell you what we can do, though. Let’s make a search of the cabin. Maybe we can find some pistols or other weapons in one of them.”

“A good idea,” agreed the professor; “we’ll start by examining the captain’s boudoir.”

They had hardly commenced their search of that worthy’s room, before a shout from Joe announced that he had made a discovery. It was nothing more nor less than a pistol in a case. On the wall, too, apparently as an ornament, hung an aged and rusty looking blunderbuss.

“Hurray!” cried Nat; “that’s something, anyhow. Professor, you take the pistol and I’ll – ”

“If it’s all the same to you,” interrupted the man of science, “I had a good deal rather you boys took the weapons. I am short-sighted, and I know that my friend Tubbs is not over familiar with firearms – ”

“Except in a shooting gallery at Coney Island,” put in Mr. Tubbs apologetically.

“Very well, sir,” said Nat. “Joe will take the blunderbuss and I’ll carry the pistol. Wonder if that old blunderbore is loaded, anyhow?”

“I’ve got an idea for testing it,” said Joe.

“What’s that?”

“Look here, why wouldn’t it be a good idea to place the muzzle of this ferocious weapon to the door at the point where we think the lock is located? If it is loaded, it’s pretty sure to have enough slugs in it to carry away the lock, and the rest we’ll have to chance to luck.”

“That’s a good suggestion, too. At any rate, it won’t do any harm to try it. We can’t be worse off, unless that rascally captain makes us walk the plank or something, and he wouldn’t dare to do that, I guess.”

“Let’s see if there aren’t some more shooting-irons lying round loose,” suggested Mr. Tubbs; “seems to me that mate always had some in his room.”

But a visit to the mate’s room resulted in the discovery of nothing more formidable than a pair of ancient cutlasses, hung crosswise on the wall. The professor and Mr. Tubbs helped themselves to these, the latter flourishing his in a truly awe-inspiring manner.

“How do you like the weapon?” asked Nat, who, despite the seriousness of their position, could not forbear smiling at the moving-picture man’s antics.

“Man alive!” rejoined Mr. Tubbs, “I only wish that it was possible to get a moving picture of ourselves going into action.”

“Now then, Joe,” said Nat, when they had scoured the cabin unsuccessfully for any more weapons, “it’s time for you to try your stunt.”

Joe ascended the stairs and carefully placed the muzzle of the blunderbuss in position under the spot where he was certain the lock was situated.

“All ready?” asked Nat in a strained whisper.

“All right here,” responded Joe, his finger crooking on the rusty trigger.

“Then let her go!” came the command.

But before Joe could press the bit of steel which he hoped would discharge the gun, there came a startling interruption.

Bang!

Another gun had been fired outside. What could it mean?

“That’s the Nomad’s gun. They are attacking her and trying to make Ding-dong a prisoner!” cried Nat.

Bo-o-o-o-o-m!

The rusty throat of the old blunderbuss roared, and Joe was knocked clean off his feet by the accompanying “kick.”

At the same instant the door was blown into fragments, and a stentorian voice could be heard roaring out:

“Howling tornadoes! What’s that? A volcano?”

“Reckon somebody was taking a siesta on that door and old Mister Blunderbuss disturbed him,” grinned Nat, as he caught Joe in his arms.

“Forward!” yelled Mr. Tubbs, brandishing his cutlass in the manner made familiar by the heroes of naval pictures of the olden time.

The others caught the infection.

“Forward!” cried Nat, and, shoulder to shoulder, they plunged up the companionway, burst through the shattered doorway, and rushed pell-mell out upon the deck of the schooner.