"Sounded like somebody jumping into the water," replied Captain Ponsberry, who was on deck with the first mate.

An examination was made, but in the fog and darkness nothing could be discovered.

"It was mighty queer," was Grandon's comment. "Somebody must have done it."

"Where are Shamhaven and Peterson?"

"In the forecastle, I suppose. Do you think----"

"I don't know what to think. See if they are there."

At once Tom Grandon ran off, and made a tour not only of the forecastle but also of the forward deck. He called the men's names several times, and others quickly joined in the hunt.

"They are gone!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, running back to where Captain Ponsberry stood.

"Gone? Then it must have been them jumping overboard that we heard!"

"Like as not--and they are a good bit away from the schooner by this time."

"Bring a lantern and we'll take a look around."

A lantern was brought, and a few minutes later a small boat was lowered, manned by Luke and three other sailors. Captain Ponsberry went with them, and the searchers remained out the best part of an hour.

"They've given us the slip clean and clear," declared the master of the _Columbia_, on returning. "It was a risky thing to undertake in such weather as this."

"Yes, and for all we know they may be at the bottom of the harbor,"

answered Tom Grandon.

"Which place might be jest what they deserve," grumbled Luke Striker, as he helped to stow away the small boat once more.

CHAPTER XIX

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY

As soon as Peterson and Shamhaven threw the blocks of wood overboard they darted for the companionway of the schooner and crept noiselessly down to the cabin.

The apartment was deserted, and the swinging lamp over the center table was turned low. On the table rested several charts which Captain Ponsberry had been consulting before joining Tom Grandon on deck.

It was Larry's watch below and he was improving the time by taking a much-needed nap. He lay on the berth in his stateroom, with the door wide open to admit the fresh air.

"Make no noise!" whispered Shamhaven. "If we are discovered the jig is up with us."

"Russell is here, yes?" came from Peterson.

"Sh-sh! Yes--over in yonder stateroom."

They closed the door leading to the companionway and then tiptoed their way to where Larry lay.

"More than likely he keeps his money belt under his pillow when he sleeps," said Shamhaven. "Wait till I find out."

He shoved his hand under the headrest with caution and presently his fingers came into contact with a strip of leather and chamois. He pulled on it gently, but it refused to budge.

"Lift his head a little," he said, and Peterson started to do as requested. But the movement, gentle as it was, caused Larry to open his eyes.

"Wha--what are you doing here?" stammered the young second mate, when, waiting for no more words, Peterson clapped a dirty hand over his mouth.

"Keep still, you! If you no keep still I hit you good, yes!"

"Confound the luck," muttered Shamhaven. "I didn't want him to know what we were up to."

Larry began to struggle and with an effort threw aside the hand over his mouth.

"Le--let up!" he spluttered. "I want you----Help!"

"Shut up!" cried Shamhaven, fiercely, and struck him a swinging blow in the temple. Another blow from Peterson followed, and then, with flashing lights darting through his brain, Larry lost consciousness.

Both men bent over him to see if he would move. When he lay as still as if dead they looked at each other with satisfaction.

"He won't bother us any more--at least, not for awhile," was Shamhaven's comment.

"Quick, de money belt!" came from Peterson, and as he raised up Larry's head, Shamhaven secured it and stowed it away in the bosom of his shirt.

"You no keep him!" he went on, in alarm, showing that he did not trust his companion in crime.

"We'll divide up afterwards," said Shamhaven, briefly. "Now to locate the captain's little pile."

Both tiptoed their way into Captain Ponsberry's stateroom. Here there was a small safe, with the door closed.

"A safe, eh?" said Shamhaven. "Wonder if we can open it?"

He knelt down and tried to work the combination lock. The safe was old and out of order and the captain had had the combination lock made as simple as possible in consequence. Soon there came a click, followed by another, and the bolts shot back.

"Luck is with us!" cried Shamhaven.

"Dare is de leetle pag," came from Peterson, and reaching into the safe he drew the article forth. There was a slip string at the top which he pulled apart.

"Gold!" he cried. "See--dirty--forty bieces of gold!" And then he shut the bag again, and placed it into his own shirt bosom.

"Remember, half of that is mine," came sharply from Shamhaven. He fancied there might be more in the bag than in the money belt.

"Yes,--an' haf de money-pelt money ist mine, yes," returned Peterson.

"Right you are, Peterson. Now to get away from the ship."

"Let us lock Russell in de stateroom first."