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But I thought for a minute I'd let the cat out of the bag." "No damage done," said Locke. "As I understand it, you intend to go to this island of Dinshaw's." "We're so glad to hear it, Captain Jarrow," said Marjorie. "It will surely make the old man happy." "Thank ye, ma'am. I want to kind o' apologize for jammin' myself in like this, but I'm a frank man."
He followed the bulkhead straight aft, conscious that Bird was in the doorway of the cook's room, past Dinshaw's room, to the door of Jarrow's, which he opened softly. "Captain Jarrow!" he called, in a low voice. "Captain Jarrow!" There was no reply. He listened for the regular breathing of the sleeping captain. Then he went inside and felt along Jarrow's bunk.
"But the island?" persisted Trask. "There was a Swede yarning with the skipper, but they wouldn't let me hear." "Dinshaw's loco," said Wilkins. "Lost his ship on this island three or four years ago. It's somewhere up the north coast. He was taken off by a Jap fisher crew blown down from the Rykukus. He lost his ship right enough, and his mind with it.
"Oh, isn't that splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie. "It's a work o' art, that's what everybody says," remarked the old man with a show of pride. "What do you call the island?" asked Locke. "The name don't matter, sir. 'Dinshaw's Island' they call it hereabouts, in honour o' the fact I was wrecked on it. Blown off my course in a typhoon at night and went smash into this reef ye see here.
He might not be so anxious to leave, if he had what he thought to be proof that there was plenty of gold." "Oh, I'm sorry," said Marjorie. "I'd hoped that Dinshaw's dream had come true." "Had me going all right," said Locke. Before long Jarrow came out, in dry clothing, smacking his lips after a drink, and lighted a long cigar. "Now," he began, "how're we to git Looney Dinshaw back?"
Dinshaw turned quickly and peered at him suspiciously, pursing his lips. "It is," he said, finally. "I don't see any other land in the picture," ventured Trask, scanning the canvas with more care. "Ye bet ye don't!" snapped Dinshaw, with sudden asperity. "I left that out so they can't find it. Lots as would like to find Dinshaw's island, young man, but I'm savin' it for myself.
The captain, to all appearances, had gone to sleep, but Trask had plans for the night and did not care to take chances at having them upset. There was a mild snoring from Dinshaw's room and despite the chafing of the schooner's gear and the patter of the water under her counter, she seemed deathly quiet after the interminable groaning of her timbers during the passage from Manila.
"You can say," he suggested, "it's a friend of Captain Dinshaw's, who's come to have a word with him strictly private." Wilkins pressed a button, and after a few seconds announced: "Mr. Locke, there's a gentleman here to see you from Captain Dinshaw. He wants to speak to you privately." "Put him on the wire," said Locke. "Hello! I guess you've got the wrong party." "No, sir," said Jarrow.
While the sky and sea were yet suffused with crimson from the sun's afterglow Jarrow came aft, and without a word to any one, or even a look, went on the poop, going up the port side. Marjorie went in and peeped into Dinshaw's room. The old man was sleeping, breathing gently, but lying like a man utterly exhausted, flat on his back in his bunk.
The wet bowl was shot with tiny points of yellow, which caught the sunlight. "Gold!" exclaimed Marjorie. "By thunder!" cried Locke. "Dinshaw's right!" "Gold without a doubt," said Trask, and turned to see Shanghai Tom staring into the bowl, his eyes fairly popping out of his head at this magical cookery which transformed a sea-beach into glittering wealth.
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