“I wonder if Scott is down there?” he exclaimed. “If he is he will soon be up when he feels his ship under way.” Phil heard the sound of the capstan as O’Neil and his men began to weigh the anchor. Then the squeak of gear grinding through unoiled blocks gave proof that the foresail and head-sails were being set. Soon a slight jar and the louder noise of the churning of the launch’s propeller told him the schooner was under way, and then slowly she moved through the quiet water of the bay toward the sea. “Keep watch here,” Phil said to his two men. Then with his revolver in hand he slowly, cautiously descended the ladder. Stories told of this pirate Scott came into his mind. At the bottom the darkness was oppressive. Phil endeavored to listen for the breathing of the man he sought, but his own heart-beats deafened him. He did not know which way to turn. Where were the sleeping quarters? He fumbled in his pockets and drew forth a box of matches. Then quickly striking one he held it above his head. He was in a small cabin containing a table and a few leathered bunks. A door opened to his right. Advancing he held the match before him. He saw the small room was a stateroom, but it was empty. Captain Scott was not on board the ship. Disappointedly he mounted the ladder and turned his steps forward. Sydney and O’Neil had aroused the crew, six men in all, and had employed them hauling on ropes. Stump was talking with a tall native as Phil approached. “Captain Scott isn’t in the cabin,” he informed his companions; “but we have his vessel, anyway.” “Did you go down there alone?” Stump exclaimed incredulously. “I certainly did,” Phil replied, laughing half nervously at the evident surprise in Stump’s voice, “and my heart’s still racing like that steam launch engine.” “Mine would have stopped,” Stump declared. “I’m glad he ain’t on board. I never want to see the old pirate again until I see him hanged.” “What does his crew say?” Phil asked. “This is Maka,” Stump said indicating the tall native. “Captain Scott, he says, went ashore to meet Klinger somewhere, he doesn’t know where, and left word he’d sail in the morning.” “Well, he won’t.” Phil chuckled. “Gee! I’d like to see his face when he arrives and sees no schooner.” The little steam launch toiled away, dragging its huge burden toward the sea. “It’s two o’clock,” Phil said looking at his watch by the light of a lantern. “There will be little wind before morning, and then it will probably be offshore. I think we’d better have the launch tow us well clear of the reefs before we attempt to haul aft the sheets.” O’Neil nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to arrange watches,” Phil said. “I’m overpowered with sleep myself, and I suppose we all are in about the same condition. We’ve four of us to stand watch. I insist on standing the first hour, then I’ll call you, Syd.”