Stratemeyer Edward
Young Hunters in Porto Rico: or, The Search for a Lost Treasure

PREFACE

"The Young Hunters in Porto Rico" has been written at the earnest solicitation of a number of my young readers, who wished to follow the further adventures of the Gun and Sled Club.

In a former volume of this series, "Gun and Sled," I related how the club was formed and what a jolly time its members had during a winter outing on Snow-Top Island. In the present tale, one of the members becomes the proud owner of a yacht, and of course nothing will do but to take an ocean trip on the craft. During this trip the boys learn of a Spanish treasure said to be secreted in one of the great caves near Caguas, on the island of Porto Rico, and at once a hunt is instituted, and many stirring adventures follow.

The work was written primarily for the reader's amusement, yet I have endeavored within its pages to give a fair description of the Porto Rico of to-day, as it appears to a traveler from our States. This new island domain of ours is but little known to the majority of us, but when its picturesqueness, and its mild climate, become a matter of publicity, Porto Rico is bound to become the Mecca for thousands of American tourists, in search of health and pleasure.

From the number of letters received, I am led to believe that "Gun and Sled" was well liked by my readers. If this is so, I sincerely trust that the present volume does not fall below the other in merit.

Captain Ralph Bonehill.

CHAPTER I
A STORM OFF SHORE

"What do you think of the weather, Bob?"

"It looks like a storm, Dick, and a heavy one, too."

"Exactly my idea. I wonder how far we are from the lighthouse?"

"I can't say. Jacob!"

"What is it, Master Robert?"

"How far is it to the lighthouse?"

The old Yankee sailor at the wheel of the Dashaway rubbed his grizzled chin and cast his eyes about before replying.

"I reckon as how it is about two miles or so," he said, with deliberation. "We have been running putty lively, you know."

"Do you imagine we can make it before that blow comes up?" asked Dick Wilbur, anxiously. "We don't want to lose a stick out here."

"We can do our best, sir. But we've got to work for it, for the wind is going down fast."

"I see that, Jacob. Hadn't you better throw her over a point or two?"

"I'll throw her over all she'll stand," answered Jacob Ropes, as he moved the handles of the brass-bound and highly polished steering wheel of the yacht. "Don't you think we had better lower the mainsail?"

"I think a couple of reefs will be enough – for the present," replied Dick Wilbur. "We can get the canvas in on the run when it freshens up."

At this old Jacob Ropes shook his head doubtfully, but as Dick Wilbur was commonly looked upon as the leader in the present outing, he said nothing in opposition. Both Dick Wilbur and Bob Hobart sprang to the halyards, and soon the mainsail was set to the former's satisfaction. The topsail had already been stowed away, and now the jib was likewise made safe.

The Dashaway had been cruising off the shore of the Carolinas for the best part of a week. She was as trim and substantial a yacht as one could meet anywhere, and had been built especially for Dick Wilbur's uncle by a firm of ship constructors who made a specialty of this class of work. She was long and narrow – yet not too narrow for safety – and while her mast was a towering one, the ballast of lead in her keel was sufficient to render her sailing qualities good even in a heavy blow.

In a former story, entitled "Gun and Sled," I told how four boys, Dick Wilbur, Bob Hobart, Don Harrison and Leander Carson organized the Gun and Sled Club, and went off on a long winter outing on Snow-Top Island. They were accompanied by Danny Guirk, a poor but merry-hearted Irish lad, who did all sorts of odds and ends of work for them, and amid snow and ice the club went gunning, fishing, ice-boat sailing and the like to their hearts' content.

When the lads returned to their homes in Waterford, it was decided by a unanimous vote to make the club a permanent one, and the snow still lay on the ground while they were planning for their outing during the coming summer.

At first it was decided to go up the lake upon which the village was situated, again, for another trip to the island where they had had so much sport; but the departure of Dick Wilbur's uncle for China caused a change in their plans. Dick was named after this relative, and before going away, Mr. Richard Wilbur gave to his namesake the Dashaway.

"I am sure you will appreciate the gift, my boy," had been his words. "Have the best of good times on the craft, but take care that you don't get drowned."

My young readers can well imagine how delighted Dick was over this gift. The youth was now president of the club, and it instantly came into his head to invite the members to take the contemplated outing on board of the yacht. "And I'll take you anywhere that you want to go," had been Dick's concluding remark on making the offer.

The proposition was accepted as quickly as made, and then came the question of where they should go. Waterford lay a good many miles from the ocean, but an easy passage could be had by means of several lakes and a broad river, and it was finally decided that they should spread the Dashaway's white wings on the broad Atlantic, for a sail down the coast to Florida.

This was to be a long trip from home, and it was felt by the boys' parents that some older person should go with them. Squire Hobart, Bob's father, knew old Jacob Ropes well, and knew he was a first-class sailor, and it was this Yankee who was hired to do the main sailing of the yacht and keep a watchful eye over the lads. Old Jacob was as good-hearted a tar as could be found anywhere, and it did not take long for him and the members of the club to become warm friends.

"I don't think we are going to have any fishing to-day," remarked Leander Carson, as Dick came forward to where he and Don Harrison sat, near the companionway.

"I don't believe we're going to have any for several days, Leander," answered Dick, as he again surveyed the clouds.

"We're in for a big storm – I'm certain of it," came from Don. "If we – There goes Danny's gong!"

A loud beating of a wooden spoon on a tin platter had broken in on his speech. Now there appeared above the companionway steps the face of a chubby Irish lad wearing a big apron and a four-cornered cook's cap.

"All hands be afther comin' down fer dinner!" cried the young cook of the club. "An' don't waste no time or dem apple dumplin's will all be cold," he added.

"All right, Danny, we'll be down," answered Dick. "I can tell you what, boys, this sailing around gives a fellow a tremendous appetite."

"As if there was ever anything the matter with your eating apparatus," laughed Bob. "But say, Danny's bluefish does smell immense, doesn't it?" he went on, and was the first to slip down into the small but elegant cabin of which the Dashaway boasted. The others immediately followed, and soon all were feasting on the spread the Irish lad had prepared for them.

"Danny, I'll recommend you to the Waldorf-Astoria if ever I get to New York," observed Bob, as he paused, with a cob of green corn in his hands. "As a cook you're getting to be A No. 1."

"I don't want no recommendation," returned the Irish lad, blushing. "It's good enough fun fer me to be waiting on dis crowd."

"And how do you like the ocean, Danny?" questioned Leander.

"De ocean is all right – if only it would stop rollin' once in awhile. Sometimes I'm afther t'inkin' I'm goin' ter turn inside out, dat's all," and Danny hurried off to the galley fire to bring on the dessert.

"I wonder if we'll have any such adventures on this trip as we had up to Hotchkiss and Snow-Top Islands," remarked Leander. "Don't you remember those bears, and how we got lost in the blizzard, and all that?"

"I don't believe we'll meet any bears out here," said Bob, solemnly, as he turned his gaze to the ceiling. He was bound to have his joke whenever he got the chance.

"Oh, stow it, Bob, you know what I mean. Of course we can't meet bears on the ocean, but we might meet a – a, whale, or a waterspout, or something like that."

"And instead of a blizzard we might meet a gale that would send us to the bottom," put in Leander. "That would just suit you, wouldn't it? – just for the excitement."

"I sincerely hope we don't have any trouble," began Dick, seriously. "All I ask for is a pleasant trip, with good fishing and fine bathing, and maybe a little hunting, when we reach the Florida shore."

By this time the apple dumplings had been brought on, and for several minutes the conversation lagged, as the boys paid strict attention to the dainties with their appetizing sauce of butter and sugar. The dumplings were scarcely finished when there came a shrill whistle from the deck.

The sound proceeded from a whistle which old Jacob was in the habit of using when he wanted to call one and another, and they happened to be out of calling distance. Rushing up the companionway, Dick gave one glance at the heavens and saw the reason for the summons. Half of the sky was literally black with clouds of wind and rain, and already behind the Dashaway could be seen the angry white-caps, growing larger and coming closer each instant.

"All hands on deck, and be quick about it!" he yelled. "Jacob, hadn't Leander better take the wheel?"

"Yes, and lose no time," answered the Yankee sailor, and as Leander relieved him, he ran forward with the other boys and began to stow away the mainsail. In the meantime Danny received orders to fasten down the hatch and close up all of the portholes.

"We're in for it, beyond a doubt," said Dick, as the breeze struck the yacht with increasing force, tearing savagely through the riggings and causing Don to shudder. The rain now began to fall, and all of the club members, and old Jacob donned their oilskins.

"We can't make the harbor now," announced the old Yankee. "If we tried it, we may run on the rocks and be smashed to pieces. We'll have to run out." And he threw the yacht over, something that made her dip considerably, and which sent more than one wave rushing over her bow.

The wind now commenced to shriek dismally, and the darkened sky was lit up with distant flashes of lightning, invariably followed by long, low rumbles of thunder.

"I can't see de use uf runnin' into dat storm," piped up Danny Guirk. "If I was runnin' t'ings I'd steer fer de land, dat's wot I would do."

"You be careful, or you'll go overboard – " began Bob, when a yell from Dick interrupted him.

"Here it comes, boys! Hold hard, all of you! My, but isn't it a corker!"

A ripping crack of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning drowned out the last of his words, and then the very heavens appeared to open, to let down a deluge of water that threatened to swamp the gallant yacht. A hurricane of wind followed, and the waves lashed and pounded the craft upon every side.

"By gum!" came suddenly from old Jacob. "Did any of ye see thet, boys?"

"See what?" demanded Don and Dick in a breath.

"The small boat over to starboard. She was bottom side up and somebody was a-clingin' to her!"

CHAPTER II
THE MAN FROM THE WRECK

All on board the Dashaway were intensely interested in the discovery old Jacob had made.

"You are sure you saw the small boat?" questioned Dick.

"I didn't see a thing," declared Don.

"Nor did I," added Leander.

"I saw the boat right enough, lads," returned the old Yankee tar. "It was out there," he pointed with his long forefinger. "Look! look!"

Another flash of lightning had lit up the firmament, making all as bright as day. Not fifty yards from the Dashaway all beheld an upturned rowboat, just rising to the top of one of the long ocean swells. To one end of the tiny craft a man was clinging desperately. It was possible that he was crying for help, but if so, the uproar of the storm drowned out his voice completely.

"Dat fellow will be lost sure!" burst out Danny Guirk. "Poor man, he must feel awful!"

"We must try to save him," came from Dick.

"That's true," said Don. "But how?"

"I don't see what we can do, with such a sea running," added Leander. "If we get much closer we'll run him down."

"We can go a little nearer, and then we can try to throw him a rope with a life preserver attached," concluded Dick.

To attempt to do more than keep the yacht headed in the teeth of the gale was a hazardous undertaking. Yet all on board the Dashaway realized that a human life was in peril, and that some risk must be run in order to effect a rescue, were such a thing possible.

"I can't see him now," said old Jacob, as the lightning seemed to subside for the time being. "It's as black as night."

"Let us fire up with a Bengal light," suggested Leander, and ran off for the article. Soon it was spluttering in the rain, but brightening up the scene about them for several hundred feet.

"Help! help!" came faintly to their ears, as the Dashaway drew closer to the upturned rowboat. "Don't leave me to perish! Help!"

"Catch the life line!" roared Dick, and whirling the article over his head, he let fly with all the strength and skill at his command.

It was a clever throw, the line shooting over the middle of the small boat and the life preserver hitting the water just beyond. The castaway caught hold of both, but hesitated about letting go of the rowboat that had so far saved him from a watery grave.

"Haul in, all of you!" cried Dick. "I'll stand at the rail with this boathook and try to keep him from being pounded on the yacht's side."

The young leader's instructions were obeyed, and slowly but surely the upturned boat and its occupant came closer. But then came a huge wave, and man and boat parted company and disappeared from view.

"Hold tight!" screamed Dick, as the man reappeared, and then he reached down with the boathook, and in a twinkle the rescued one came sprawling on the deck, while Dick slipped flat on his back.

The rescue had taken place none too soon, for now the storm increased in fury, and old Jacob lashed himself to the wheel, while ordering all of the others below.

"He has fainted," said Leander, as he knelt over the man who had been saved. "Let us carry him below;" and this was done. In the cabin the stranger was made as comfortable as possible and stimulants were administered; but it was a long time before he either spoke or moved.

The storm lasted all of the afternoon and the greater part of the night, and nobody thought of going to sleep.

"If you wanted an adventure, Leander, I guess you are getting it," remarked Don, grimly. "This is worse than that blizzard. I'll be thankful if we get out of this with whole skins."

"Dis is de greatest storm I ever seed," put in Danny. "If de boat shakes much more, everyt'ing in de crockery line will be gone to smash, dat's a fact," and he rolled off to secure his dishes and pans from such a catastrophe. Several dishes and glasses were wrecked, but not as many as Danny imagined.

The man who had been rescued was a heavy-set individual of twenty-five or thirty years of age, and Dick rightfully guessed that he was an Englishman. He had been struck on the head, and it was found that a nasty cut must be plastered up and then bound with a cloth.

"Poor fellow, he has certainly had a hard time of it," observed Don. "I'm glad we managed to save him."

"And so am I glad," returned Dick. "I'll wager he'll have a story worth telling when he gets around to it."

"Yes, I have a tale worth telling," came with a gasp from the sufferer; but having opened his eyes for a moment, he closed them again, and said nothing more for fully half an hour.

The fury of the storm had caused the Dashaway to move far out to sea, and when, at eleven in the morning, old Jacob announced that all danger was over, they calculated that it would take them twenty-four hours and more to reach Savannah, whither they had been bound for some extra ship's supplies.

"I don't care – so long as we have enough eating to last us," was Dick's comment. "I'm happy to escape with my life."

"And I am happy to think that we have been the means of saving somebody else," put in Don.

Both had gone on deck to see what old Jacob had to say about their next movement. They returned to the cabin to find the rescued man stirring again.

"You have saved my life, lads," were his first words. "I shall never forget you for that, never!" and he put out his hand feebly, for one and another to press.

"Did you fall overboard from some boat?" questioned Dick, kindly.

"I did – that is, I am not quite sure," was the measured answer.

"You are not sure?" repeated Don, with a puzzled look.

"No, I am not quite sure. I was standing by the steamer's rail and the ship was pitching terribly. Suddenly I was lifted off my feet – how I cannot tell – and then I found myself pitching headlong into the water. It is strange! strange! – " And the man drew a long breath.

"Do you mean to say that you think somebody might have pitched you into the ocean?" cried Dick.

"I am sure of nothing, my lads. But – but – there was one man on board the Advance who would not have been above heaving me overboard, were the chance given to him." The sufferer looked around curiously. "You have saved my life; I don't know but that I may as well tell you my secret."

"We would certainly like to hear your story," returned Leander, bluntly.

"Then I will tell it as well as I am able. In the first place, I am an Englishman, and my name is Robert Menden. Less than two weeks ago I took passage on the steamship Advance, bound from Liverpool to Havana, Cuba. I wished to sail direct for Porto Rico, but could not obtain the passage, so took what I considered the next best thing. You know it is easy to get passage to any of the West Indies from Havana."

"Yes, I know that," returned Dick. "Havana is quite a center of trade."

"I was bound to Porto Rico in search of a fortune, which I heard of quite by accident while I was travelling in Spain nearly a year ago. On board the Advance was a man who knew my secret. He was an old enemy of mine, and I cannot get it out of my head but that he helped me overboard, not only to get rid of me, but also that he might secure the treasure for himself."

CHAPTER III
SOMETHING ABOUT A GREAT TREASURE

"A treasure!" cried Don, as Robert Menden paused, to partake of some soup which Danny had brought to him.

"Yes, a treasure, lads – a treasure said to be worth twenty or thirty thousand dollars. Of course, that is not a fabulous sum, but it is pretty large for a poor Englishman like me, who has never had over two hundred pounds in his life."

"It's enough!" cried Dick. "I'd like to pick it up myself."

"But what kind of a treasure is it?" questioned Leander. "Won't you tell us more about it?"

"And about your enemy?" added Bob.

"I will tell you everything, lads – for I have nothing to conceal, and you have been very kind to me. But first let me say, that I am at present totally unable to pay you for what you are doing for me now."

"We don't want any pay," came from Dick promptly, and the others nodded.

"As far as I know, I am not worth a dollar in the world, as you Americans would put it. I had something like eighty pounds in my pocket when I fell overboard, but my wallet is gone, and here is all I now possess." And Robert Menden held out a shining shilling and several English pennies.

"We'll try to set you on your feet again," came from Bob, who was always generous to the core. "We are not rich, but we can do something; can't we, fellows?"

"To be sure," answered Don. "But won't you tell your story, about your enemy and that treasure? I declare, it sounds like a book!" and he smiled broadly. Don had always been a great boy to read stories of pirates, treasures, Indians, and marvellous boy hunters and trappers. Yet he had never had his head turned by these bits of thrilling fiction.

"Well, to begin with, as I said before, I am an Englishman, and was born and brought up in a village not far from the city of London. Our family was fairly well-to-do, and for twenty years of my life matters ran smoothly enough. But then my parents died, and I being alone, moved into London, and became a clerk in a firearms store.

"In this store there was another clerk named Joseph Farvel. Joseph was not of the friendly sort, and he hated me from the start, because he had expected to get the place I was filling, for a friend of his, who was to pay him five pounds for obtaining the situation for him. He tried to get me into trouble, so that I would be discharged and he would have another chance for his friend, but his little plot against me was discovered, and he was thrown out in consequence.

"From that moment on Joseph Farvel was my bitter enemy, and he tried in several ways to injure me. Finally, I caught him one day in the park and gave him a sound thrashing, and told him if he ever interfered with me again I would have him arrested. As long as I remained in London I never saw him again."

"And I shouldn't think you would want to see him," put in Dick, as Robert Menden paused, to partake of the warm soup once again.

"When I became head clerk for the firearms firm, I was sent to Madrid, Spain, to look up a certain contract with the Spanish Government for small arms. In the meantime, Joseph Farvel had secured a position with another firearms company, and they were also after this contract. We met in Madrid and another quarrel ensued, but nothing came of it.

"I secured the contract, and was on the point of returning to England, when I fell in with an old Spanish sailor who had spent much of his time in Cuban and Porto Rican waters. I did this fellow several favors, and in return for this he told me of a treasure said to be hidden away in one of the great caves of Porto Rico, which are located to the southwest of Caguas, and five miles west of the village of Aguas Buenas."

"And what was the treasure?" cried Leander, who sat by, his mouth half open in wonder.

"It was a treasure in Spanish gold, said to have been placed in the cavern by a smuggler, who had journeyed inland after he had found the coast of Porto Rico too hot to hold him. It was said to be locked up in a strong cedar chest, and buried under a long, flat stone upon which was cut a cross and the initials M. M. M."

"That ought to be easy to find – if you can locate the cave," said Bob.

"Exactly – if I can locate the cave. But you must remember that, although the caves of Porto Rico are but little known, the largest of them, called the Dark Cave, is said to rival your own Mammoth Cave of Kentucky."

"Gracious! If it's as big as that, then that's another question," returned Bob, and his face fell, for he was already thinking of taking a hand at treasure-hunting himself.

"I have some fairly good directions as to how to reach the cave," went on Robert Menden. He cleared his throat. "But I am getting ahead of my tale. I heard of this treasure in Madrid, and strange as it may seem, Joseph Farvel heard of it, too.

"When I returned to London, bad news awaited me. The firm I had represented had failed, and instead of getting a large sum of money for my success in Madrid, I was thrown out of employment. Times were hard and I could not secure another situation, and at last I sailed for Havana, intending to go from there to Ponce, Porto Rico, and then strike out into the interior of the island in search of the hidden chest of gold.

"You can well imagine my surprise when on the second day out I ran across Joseph Farvel, who had also taken passage for Cuba. We quarrelled once more, and he accused me of dogging his footsteps, and of wanting to get his treasure away from him. I told him I wanted nothing to do with him and that I reckoned the treasure would belong to the first man who found it."

"And so he threw you overboard later on!" exclaimed Leander. "What a rascal!"

"I am not certain that he did. I was not feeling well and I was also very sleepy, and it may be that I fell overboard by pure accident. And yet I cannot get it out of my mind but that he sneaked up behind me and gave me a gentle lift and a shove, just as the steamship was swinging to aid him." Robert Menden paused. "That is my story, and now let me know what you think of it, and where you are bound, and what you intend to do with me."