swaying plants magnified by refraction. There was
no air stirring, and from the far end of the island a morning haze
was rising like smoke from flats which appeared to be salt marshes.

Trask filled the basin at the water butt and washed his sticky
face. Doc, who evidently was astir before the cook, became
emboldened by the fact that Trask was up, and rattled the dishes in
the galley with recklessness. Trask cautioned him when he came out
with the cup and proffered the impromptu breakfast.

"Have you heard anything?" he asked, as the steward stood beside
him, loath to go back to his duties.

"Me? Lordy, no, Mr. Trask! We been just lak' a buryin' ground! It
gives me the creeps to have things so daid."

"Seen anything of the boat?"

"Boat?" Doc rolled his eyes, puzzled.

"Go in and get breakfast," said Trask, passing the cup back, and
went along forward to learn what Jarrow had to report.

"Not a sight of 'em," said the captain, who appeared to be as fresh
as if he had slept all night.

"That's queer," said Trask. "I thought they'd try to sneak back
during the night. What can they be up to? You don't think they've
abandoned us entirely?"

"Now ye got me," said Jarrow. "I guess Peth's crazy in his head.
He's got 'em all buggy on this gold business, far's I can see. All
right, let 'em stick to Peth."

"But they'll starve," said Trask. "Suppose they did find gold in
piles? What good would it do them? They'd have to beg to be taken
back aboard here, wouldn't they?"

Jarrow blew into his coffee, gulped some of it, and raised his eyes
in utter dejection to look over at the island. The schooner lay
with her head to the northeast in response to a current that came
around the northern end of the island and almost parallel with it.

"When people are out of their heads, no knowin' what they'll do,"
declared Jarrow. "Peth, he's always for makin' money in heaps. He
can't see beyond his nose. Now I'm for goin' safe and sure. You
ain't got no idea how he's bothered me off and on for the last
couple years. But I had to humour him--he owns an eighth of the
_Nuestra_."

"He can't have much sense if he thinks gold's to be sacked up and
carted away," said Trask. "Here's Mr. Locke."

"Looks like this ought to be a good place to fish," said Locke,
coming forward. He was wearing an old suit of white, but had on tan
shoes, as if he expected to go walking, and a shirt open at the
neck. His nose was peeled from sunburn, and he