CHAPTER XX.
THE BOYS ENCOUNTER A BIG SURPRISE.
To the boys in the boat, pulling away from the anchored "Nomad," the island appeared a veritable dreamland of beauty and fertility. The gray cliff-face, sheer and rugged, was topped by a fairy-like growth of lofty palms and intertwining creepers. They could see fruits and flowers of strange shapes and gorgeous hues shining among the foliage.
"Well, this must be Utopia, all right," breathed Joe.
"Wh-w-w-w-w-wherever that mar-mar-may be," stuttered Ding-dong, with a grin.
"It's where folks talk straight," parried Joe, which brought a laugh both from the good-natured Ding-dong and from Nat, who was at the oars.
"Say, let's take a look at that great mass of creepers and stuff that hangs over the cliff-face," said Joe suddenly.
The others were nothing loathe.
"But we promised Captain Akers that we would not land," reminded the dutiful Joe.
"Well, this won't be landing," temporized Nat, who was fairly carried away with a desire to examine this South Sea fairyland.
"That's so," agreed Joe; "well, row ahead and put us alongside yon waterfall of fruits and flowers."
"My, but you are per-per-poetical," snorted Ding-dong.
"This place would make a goat poetical," retorted the other, as Nat, with some powerful strokes, sent them flying over the still, lake-like surface of the water, which reflected the cliff in every detail, and into whose depths they could see quite clearly. Below them myriads of bright colored fish sported and swam amid seaweed of fantastic form and hue.
All this could be seen as if they were gazing into a cool, green mirror.
But in a few minutes they were alongside the tumbling mass of creepers. Such was the impetus of the boat, in fact, that Nat, who had not been on the lookout, could not stop it.
"What ho, she bumps!" shouted Joe, steadying himself in preparation for the coming shock. But, to his astonishment, the boat, instead of bumping into the creepers with a hard shock, passed clean through them.
In an instant they found themselves shut out from the open lagoon or bay behind them, and were floating in a deep sort of lake, hemmed in by high cliffs. This was screened from the sea by what may well be termed a natural drop curtain—to wit, the hanging mass of creepers through which the boat had passed.
"Well, did you ever?" exclaimed Joe, as he gazed about him.
"N-n-n-n-n-o, I ner-ner-ner-never," responded Ding-dong, with deep conviction. His tones echoed back solemnly from the amphitheater of cliffs that towered on every side of them, their rough faces being reflected as in a looking-glass by the still water.
It was at this moment that consternation over their disappearance was at its height on board the "Nomad." But, boy-like, the lads did not consider this.
"Let's explore this place a bit before we go back," suggested Nat, who had noted that the lake narrowed at its farther end to a river, which flowed at the bottom of a narrow and deep gorge.
He fell to on his oars once more and the boat was soon traversing the depths of the gloomy abyss. All at once the cleft in the rocks widened and they emerged upon another lake.
And right here the biggest surprise any of them had ever encountered awaited them.
Anchored in the middle of the landlocked body of water was a schooner.
On her stern the boys had hardly finished reading the name "Nettie Nelsen," before a fresh surprise almost overwhelmed them.
From behind them there suddenly sounded a harsh voice, which Nat, at least, knew only too well:
"Well! Well! Some really welcome visitors!"
They turned to face the hawk-like features of Colonel Morello, who stood on the banks of the lake.
By his side was Dayton, while behind them several other ill-favored members of the band hung about. The first thing that Nat noticed was that Colonel Morello held a leveled rifle pointed straight at him. The next was that Dayton held the same position and that the trigger fingers of both were in a position instantly to discharge their weapons.
"I rather think you had better come ashore, boys," cooed the half-Mexican rascal in his silkiest tones. "To descend to slang, it looks to me rather as if we had the drop on you."
Nat could not but admit it. He cast one despairing glance about him and saw that escape was impossible. With a face that was rather paler than was its wont, he took up the oars, and a few minutes later Morello's band had laid hold of the prow of the boat and were dragging it up on the beach. Some of them laid rough hands on the boys as they stepped out, but Morello's voice checked them.
"Steady, boys, steady," he ordered; "plenty of time to even up our scores with the young ne'er-do-wells. Ha! Ha! It was really amusing the way you boys just walked into our trap," he went on. "We sighted your craft approaching the island some time ago, but we had hardly prepared to receive you before to-morrow, and now," he went on in the same taunting tone, "as it is getting dark let us make our way to my humble residence, where to-night you will be accommodated with lodgings. After to-morrow you will not need them," he added, with savage emphasis.
"Colonel Morello," said Nat, in a steady voice, "I think you are the biggest scoundrel I ever saw."
"Really you compliment me," rejoined the ruffian, with a hideous leer. "Now, boys," he went on, addressing his followers, "just march these young cubs up to the camp. To-morrow we'll get the rest of the precious party and then we'll take a trip to Australia in their gasolene cruiser—eh, Dayton?"
"I guess that's the program, colonel," smiled the rascal addressed. "Oh, there's no question about it but that Master Trevor here has proven a very accommodating youth."
The others chuckled loudly at this sally. Nat's blood boiled within him. Joe's cheeks flamed angrily, while Ding-dong looked daggers at the scoundrel. But so far as making reprisals went, the Motor Rangers were as powerless as kittens.
This time Morello undoubtedly would not give them even the shadow of a chance to escape. Their situation appeared well-nigh hopeless to all but Nat.
With every reason to feel despondent—nay, hopeless—the lad determined to keep his eyes open in the rather vain hope that something might turn up which they could seize upon to advantage.
But when they reached the camp, after some half hour of traversing a rough, stony section of the island, thickly strewn with boulders and intergrown with coarse grass and brush, he had to own that the prospects of escape were, to say the least, not at all numerous.
The camp was located in the bottom of a sort of deep dell, leading up from the lake, and was evidently on the edge of a plantation, at least, so the boys judged from the orderly way in which the trees were planted out. As for the camp itself, it consisted of a collection of tents and huts, roughly made from limbs of trees and roofed with branches. But in that mild climate such protection was ample.
To Nat's surprise, as they approached this camp, from among the tents and rough shacks, a strange figure to be met with under the circumstances advanced to meet them. It was the figure of a tall American, in white duck and wearing a broad-brimmed Jippa Jappa hat. His feet were encased in sandals, and about his waist was a red sash. An inky black beard grew about the lower part of his face. Perhaps it was there to hide the cruel and sinister mouth. For the rest he was tall, had a commanding carriage and seemed to be considerably above the social station of the ruffians he was consorting with.
As he came forward, Morello addressed him.
"Ah, Mr. Gooddale, well met. We have brought some visitors with us, as you will see. They are young rascals who are in the pay of the United States government to spy on honest traders in the South Seas."
The amazing effrontery of such a misstatement, for whatever purpose it was uttered, fairly took Nat's breath away. He could say nothing, but stood looking at the newcomer, who, in turn, stared at the boys.
Then he spoke in a rasping, unpleasant voice.
"Well, Morello, you must do as you wish with them. It is not my affair at all, but from what you have told me of them I think that such lads are better out of harm's way."
"Exactly," rejoined Morello, "and now, if you please, I will have them placed somewhere where they will be safe for the night. One of them particularly is a very slippery youth," casting a lowering glance at Nat.
"Just as you please, Morello," responded the other listlessly. "You must have your way, I suppose. At any rate, Elias Gooddale will not oppose you."
"Elias Gooddale!" exclaimed Nat, startled out of his resolve to keep silent whatever might happen.
The black-bearded man bent a piercing gaze upon him.
"Yes, young man, that is my name," was his response.
"That is queer," rejoined Nat, who scented some mystery; "the last time I encountered any one of your name was in a hut in the Sierras."
The other started and turned pale.
"In the Sierra Nevadas, you mean?"
"That's it—yes. He was a miner there. We visited his hut."
With still more agitation, the other went on:
"This is a most extraordinary thing. A man of the same name as myself. Strange—very."
But Nat shrewdly saw that the other's agitation proceeded from some deeper-seated cause than his surprise at a similarity in names.
"What did he say to you?" asked this new Elias Gooddale eagerly.
"Nothing," responded Nat.
"Nothing," echoed the other. "Don't trifle with me, boy. Did he not say something about righting a wrong? Did he not say anything?"
Nat shook his head.
"The Elias Gooddale we knew had been dead some time when we discovered his body," he rejoined.
The black-bearded man gave an exclamation of amazement and consternation. He regarded Nat more closely than ever.
"Clearly," thought the boy, "I have stumbled on some tangle that may be of use to us."
As the other plied him with more questions, he resolved to be as secretive as possible.