The captain gave a growling consent, and Nick Carter went forward to get his two assistants. “The suit case is all right,” announced Patsy. “I talked to Clayton, and he said he would not let it out of his hands until he had taken it to a bank in San Juan.” “The wise course!” approved Nick. “We are going ashore--you and Chick--with me.” “Bully! To get Rayne?” asked Patsy. “If we can.” “Well, you bet we can,” was the confident response, accompanied by a chuckle of delight at the prospect of some real action. CHAPTER II. A HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE. Nick Carter and his two assistants had been gone since the morning, and no report had come from them, nor had any one else gone ashore from the _Cherokee_, when, at about three o’clock in the afternoon, Captain Lawton told Van Cross he was going to see the agents to whom were consigned his miscellaneous cargo, so that he could begin to unload in the morning. “Those fellows here would never come to me unless I went to them,” growled the commander. “They think a tramp steamer doesn’t need to be treated like a ship belonging to a regular line. Well, I’ll make them pay for that, too. You’ll see. Cross--you’ll see!” He dressed himself in what he called his shore-going toggery, and gave orders for a boat to be brought around to the foot of the sea ladder, with four men. Captain Bill Lawton had his own little vanities. One of them was to go ashore in a strange port in state, with four oarsmen to propel him from his ship to the landing stage. As the captain prepared to descend to his boat, he turned to Van Cross and shook his fist at the town across the harbor. “What are you going to do, cap?” asked Cross carelessly. “What have the people of San Juan done to you?” “Done? Some of them have got my six hundred dollars.” “You mean that high-toned passenger of ours has it?” grinned the mate. “You can’t blame the people of Porto Rico for that.” “Can’t I?” yelled Lawton. “Well, I do. When I get ashore the police have got to get my wad back for me. If they don’t, by Cæsar, I’ll raise a revolution in politics in the town that will put half of ’em out of a job.” It was at this moment that he saw a boat coming up to the _Cherokee_ in a businesslike way, with a frowning, dignified man in some sort of uniform cap in the stern, while two fellows, who looked like ordinary dock wallopers, plied the oars. The official in the stern was dark-haired, and wore a heavy black mustache. He had eyes that seemed to pierce anything at which they looked. It was not easy to say just what color they were. In some lights they seemed to be a yellowish green, like an angry cat’s. “Hello!” he shouted, in a gruff voice, as he saw Lawton. “Hello!” replied Lawton, equally gruff. “This the _Cherokee_, from New York?” “Yes.” “Captain William Lawton in command?” “That’s my name.”