Chapter V: A Queer Find

Had the boys been a minute later in casting loose, there would certainly have been trouble--and perhaps they would not have been able to get away at all.

Whistler, who was well in advance of the others, strained every nerve to reach the car, but the _Hawk_ was well in the air before he reached the spot where it had been moored. Neither he, nor any of those with him, seemed to be armed. No shots were fired, and Whistler shook his fist upward and shouted maledictions.

"Py chiminy," whooped Carl, "ve'll led him vistle some. He ought to be good at dot."

Swiftly the clearing vanished behind the _Hawk_, and the tops of the trees soon hid it entirely.

Carl drew a long breath.

"I vas nefer so habby ofer anyt'ing as I vas to ged avay from dot blace," he averred. "Der olt voman vas pad meticine, und ve vas lucky dot ve vas aple to ged avay ad all."

"Avast there, matey!" answered Dick. "Yamousa tried to be a friend of ours."

"I don'd like friendts vat iss so spookish," went on Carl, kicking the cat's skull off the front of the car and watching it tumble into the green tree tops below. "Dere iss all kindts oof drouples come oof sooch pitzness."

"She said she looked into the smoke and saw Whistler and those other fellows coming," muttered Dick.

"Meppy she dit, und meppy she saw dem, or heard dem."

"If she saw Whistler and his outfit in a smoke picture," went on Dick, "and then came to warn us, it not only proves that she means well, but that there's something in that smoke business."

Matt smiled a little.

"We'd better forget all that happened last night, pards," said he. "We can't make head or tail out of it, anyhow, and I don't believe in worrying over things you can't understand. We helped Yamousa; and Yamousa, in her own way, has tried to befriend us. Suppose we let it go at that and sponge out the occult part of it? The biggest, and possibly the most amazing discovery we made, was that Whistler got clear of the Bahamas and seems to have got this far on the trail of the iron chest. If Whistler is on the trail, no doubt Lat Jurgens is, also. Perhaps Townsend knew about this when he telegraphed us to come to New Orleans."

"I hope nothing has happened to Townsend," murmured Dick, his mind reverting to the smoke picture he had seen.

"There you go again," laughed Matt. "You're still thinking of what Yamousa showed us, and imagining there may be something in it. Cut it out, Dick. If there's anything in the picture we'll know it before long. Dip into the ration bag and get out some breakfast--I'm nearly starved."

While Dick held to the post of lookout, Carl drew on the food supply and all hands ate a cold breakfast.

After the meal the boys passed an hour discussing Jurgens and Whistler, their designs on the iron chest, and the way they had probably escaped from the sand key in the Bahamas. For the most part, the discussion led nowhere. The boys could make guesses, but unless they were to put their faith in what Yamousa told them, their talk could bring them to nothing definite.

The conversation was interrupted by Dick.

"Mississippi, ho!" he cried. "The river's dead ahead, mates, and hard under our forefoot."

"Good!" exclaimed Matt. "We'll follow the river to New Orleans."

"Where we going to keep der air ship when we reach der city?" inquired Carl.

This was always a conundrum to the boys. The _Hawk_ was so big and unwieldy, and withal so easily damaged, that to stow it away where it would be safe from wind and storm was a difficult problem.

"We might anchor the _Hawk_ on some scow in the river," suggested Dick, "and then put the canvas cover over her. If we find we're going to stay in New Orleans long, it might pay to build a roof over the scow."

"That would cost too much," objected Matt. "It would take a mighty high roof to clear the top of the gas bag, and a mighty big one to cover it. Why not berth her on one of the docks? The docks are high, they're roofed, and there's always a watchman in charge."

"Right-o!" said Dick. "You've tagged on to the right rope, old ship. We'll use the docks. Stuyvesant Dock will about suit us. I was in this port once on the old _Billy Ruffin_. We coaled over in Algiers, and some of us had shore leaves. A great town, that, and----"

Carl, who had been leaning over the rail, went limp and white all of a sudden and looked around with staring eyes.

"What's the matter with you, mate?" demanded Dick, startled by the Dutch boy's manner. "Sick?"

"N-o-o," gurgled Carl, "I vas vat you call flappergasted--so astoundet mit vat I see dot I can't shpeak. Look ofer der site, und see vat you see py der rifer. Ach, du lieber! I don'd know vat to t'ink."

Matt had already swerved the _Hawk_ into an upstream course. The murky waters of the Mississippi lay no more than a hundred feet below, and the light, variable winds were helping rather than retarding the air ship.

Matt and Dick both cast downward looks over the guard rail, and what they saw caused them to straighten erect and stare at each other in amazement. For a moment or two, neither could speak.

Ahead of them drifting downstream with the current was a skiff. Although there were oars over the skiff's sides, trailing in the water, the boat was empty.

In the stern sheets, however, was the iron chest!

The boys had seen that particular iron chest so many times that they were perfectly familiar with its appearance.

During the interval that passed while the lads were staring at each other, before the mental eyes of all of them floated that smoke picture seen the evening before in Yamousa's hut.

"Der olt Nick has somet'ing to do mit dot," muttered Carl, drawing one hand over his puzzled eyes.

"It's the queerest find I ever heard of!" stuttered Dick. "From the way you described that first smoke picture to me, Matt, this event is fitting into it in a way that takes my breath."

"It--it might be a coincidence," mumbled Matt, hardly knowing what to believe, now that he was face to face with such a reality.

"Coincidence nothing!" averred Dick bluntly. "Yamousa has powers we never dreamed of. She may be a clairvoyant, or something like that."

"I never took much stock in clairvoyants," demurred Matt.

"Well, anyhow, there's the chest. In some manner it's got away from Townsend."

"Exactly," said Matt, throwing aside the uncanny feeling that had come over him. "No matter how we happened to make this queer find, nor how little we understand the manner in which we made it, our duty is clear. We've got to recover the chest, find Townsend, and turn it over to him."

"Stand by, then, to go aboard the skiff," called Dick. "Port your helm, Matt. I'll do the conning for you."

"Keep away!" shouted Carl. "Don'd go near dot poat und don'd fool mit dot safe. It's pad meticine! Eferyt'ing iss pad meticine vat has anyt'ing to do mit dot olt laty. Ach, blitzen, I vish ve hatn't seen dot poat!"

But Matt and Dick knew what their duty was and paid little heed to Carl's protests.

Guided by Dick, Matt brought the _Hawk_ within a dozen feet of the boat, cut off the power, and the air ship hovered in the air, motionless save for the slight influence of the wind. Dick tossed a rope over the side. Matt, leaving his seat among the levers, prepared to get over the rail and lower himself into the boat.

"Hadn't I better go, matey?" queried Dick. "I'm used to sliding up and down ropes and backstays."

"You and Carl stay here and make ready to hoist the safe aboard," replied Matt. "I'm a pretty fair hand at rope climbing."

Probably none of the boys thought, at that moment, how closely they were copying the smoke pictures shown Matt and Carl by Yamousa. That smoke scene seemed to have depicted the event with the sureness of fate.

Matt dropped over the side quickly, in order to get into the boat before the _Hawk_ should drift away from it. He succeeded in carrying out his design and, still clinging to the rope, stepped from the gunwale of the skiff to one of the midship thwarts and then into the stern.

There was nothing in the boat to show who the occupant had been. A bailing tin lay in the bottom, but there was absolutely nothing else in the skiff apart from the iron chest.

"Work quickly, old ship!" Ferral called down. "The wind is freshening and we'll be blown away from you if you don't hustle."

Swiftly, Motor Matt secured the end of the rope to one of the iron handles.

"Haul away," said he, stepping back.

Carl and Dick seized the rope and began to pull. The chest rose slowly into the air; and then, when it was lifted about half way, one of the sudden gusts of wind which the _Hawk_ had been encountering all along the Gulf coast struck the air ship, and she leaped sideways nearly to the shore of the river.

Carl and Dick secured the rope frantically. While the chest continued to swing below the car, Dick jumped into the levers and got the propeller going. This gave him a better command of the air ship and he attempted to manoeuvre the craft back and into Matt's vicinity.

Again and again he tried, but, as the wind was now high and shifting quickly from one quarter to another, no success attended his efforts.

"Take the chest aboard," Matt cried, standing up in the skiff and making a trumpet of his hands, "and go on to town. Berth the _Hawk_ on one of the docks, if you can, and, if you can't, make a landing farther inland. I'll follow you."

There was nothing else to be done, and Matt watched the _Hawk_ bear away up the river, Dick at the motor and Carl heaving in the chest by slow degrees.