"How goes it, me lad?" he inquired of Henry, and without waiting for a reply, he continued, "To-morrow we’ll be findin’ of ourselves in the waters of the Gulf Stream, and ye will believe that ye never saw such blue water in yer livin’ born days. And ye will keep on believin’ that till ye see the waters of the Caribbean and then ye will be changin’ the moind of ye, like as not." "I’d rather see some good brown earth and a little green grass at this present moment," said Henry, wistfully. "And there’ll be a-plenty of both on this cruise, I’m thinkin’," said Mike cheerfully. "But do you know where we’re goin’? If ye don’t then I’ll tell ye. We’re bound for Treasure Island, and a foine place it is to roam around in for a bit. Ye can’t git lost and ye can’t git into trubble unless ye look for it, and that’s more’n ye can say for most places. Its right name is Culebra, which is the Spanish for ’shnake,’ but some feller wrote a wonderful story about it under the name I’ve just mentioned to ye, so like as not if ye look in the right spot ye may yet find some of the old pirates’ buried gold. Heigho!--I’d better be on me way, for it’s about time to make me report of lights to the bridge. Good-night, me lads," and off he tramped. "And as a better man than I just said," remarked Dick a few moments later, "’Heigho! I’d better be on me way’; let us get to bed." "I second the motion," said Henry, "for I’m getting sick of this motion, and the ’hammick’ sounds good to me. Maybe by to-morrow I won’t be bluer than the Gulf Stream, after a good night’s rest." CHAPTER VIII AN ADVENTURE ASHORE Saturday afternoon! Under the azure dome of the tropic sky the verdured hills of "Treasure Island" sparkled with emerald brilliancy. Stretches of glittering-white, sandy beaches connected abrupt, green-clad headlands in the semblance of Nature’s own rosary. Coral reefs everywhere, with varying depths of water over their treacherous beauty, afforded so many wonderful shades of blue and green that the cleverest artist would despair of reproducing their tantalizing colors on his canvas. In the deep but sheltered waters of Target Bay, close anchored to the beach, swung the _Denver_, her graceful outlines reflected with startling perfection in the mirror-like depths. Under her white spread awnings, members of the crew dozed, conversed or played games as their fancy dictated. On the bridge, the ever alert Quartermaster attended the duties of his watch; while pacing the quarter-deck, the Commanding Officer of the ship, Commander Bentley, and his Executive Officer, Lieutenant-Commander Ogden, were earnestly conversing. Near by, the Officer of the Deck, with a telescope, the insignia of his office, tucked beneath his arm, was trying to catch the drift of his superiors’ conversation without appearing to be too inquisitive.