To make sure of what he was doing, Anderson Rover held several consultations with Captain Barforth, and Bahama Bill was closely questioned regarding the location of Treasure Isle.  The old tar stuck to the story he had told so often, and went over numerous maps with the commander of the steam yacht.

“He has the location pretty well fixed in his head unless the whole thing is a fairy tale,” was Captain Barforth’s comment.

While one of these talks was going on, Dick, who was on deck, chanced to go below in a hurry.  As he passed down the companionway he encountered Walt Wingate, who had been listening at the cabin doorway.

“Hullo, what do you want?” demanded Dick, for the man’s face had a guilty look on it.

“Why—­er—­my handkerchief blew down here and I came down to get it,” answered the new deck hand, and pointed to the cloth in question sticking out of his pocket.

“Is that all?”

“That’s all, sir,” answered Wingate, and touching his cap he slouched off.  Then he turned back.  “Sorry if I disturbed anybody,” he added.

“Oh, I suppose it is all right,” returned Dick, but he was by no means satisfied, although he could not tell exactly why.  There was something about the new deck hand that did not “ring true.”  At first he thought to speak to his parent about the occurrence, but then concluded not to worry his father.

Knowing that it was now a race between the Rainbow and the Josephine for Treasure Isle, Captain Barforth crowded on all steam.  The course of the steam yacht was fairly well laid out, but it contained many turns and twists, due to the many keys—­located in these waters.

“We don’t want to run on any hidden reef,” said the master of the vessel.  “If we do we may go down or be laid up for a long while for repairs.  These waters are fairly well charted, but there is still a great deal to be learned about them.  From time to time they have had earthquakes down here, and volcano eruptions, and the bottom is constantly shifting.”

On the second night out from Nassau, Sam, for some reason, could not sleep.  He tumbled and tossed in his berth for two hours, and then, feeling that some fresh air might do him good, dressed in part and went on deck.

It was not a very clear night, and but few stars shone in the firmament.  In the darkness the lad walked first to one side of the steam yacht and then to the other.  Then he strolled toward the bow, to have a little chat with the lookout.

As he walked along the side of the cabin he became aware of a figure leaning over the rail, gazing far down into the sea.  By the man’s general form he made the fellow out to be Walt Wingate.  The deck hand had hold of something, although what it was Sam could not tell.

At first the youngest Rover was going to call to the man and ask him what he was doing.  But he remained silent, and stepped into the shadow of the cabin as Wingate left the rail and crossed to the other side of the yacht.  From under some coils of rope the deck hand brought forth something, lifted it over the rail and dropped it gently into the sea.  Then he leaned far over the rail as before, and this lasted two or three minutes.