GOLD OUT OF CELEBES

Natalie stepped softly beside them and gazed over their
stooping backs, to swiftly step back with a choking
sob of horror. Frontispiece. See page 175.

GOLD OUT OF CELEBES

BY

CAPTAIN A. E. DINGLE

WITH FRONTISPIECE BY

GEORGE W. GAGE

BOSTON

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1920

Copyright, 1920,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
All rights reserved
Published April, 1920

Norwood Press
Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

To

WAGGLES AND BUBBLES

MY DAUGHTERS

CONTENTS

GOLD OUT OF CELEBES

CHAPTER ONE

Perhaps it was Jack Barry's own fault that he had spent three weeks loafing about Batavia without a job. Fat jobs were to be had, if a fellow persevered and could grin at rebuffs; but when he discovered that shore jobs for sailors were usually secured through the Consulate, and that his own country's Consulate Service was limited, as service, to cocktails and financial reports to Washington, he decided to avoid that combination and stick to his own profession. He had been mate of the Gregg, when that ancient ark foundered off Kebatu, and also held a clean master's ticket; but somehow he found that masters and mates were a drug on the Batavian market just then; hence his three barren weeks of idleness.

"An American has no business with the sea these days," he reflected moodily. "Confound this stodgy port and its stodgy Dutchmen!"

Legs wide apart, hands thrust deep into his pockets, he puffed fiercely at his pipe and surveyed the scene before him. He stood on the gigantic quay overlooking the seething activity of the inner Tandjong Priok harbor, and beyond this stretched the two monster jetties and the outer port. Eyeing the trading craft that lined the quays, Barry frowned and cursed his luck afresh.

He did not notice a man coming up behind him, who now stood scrutinizing him admiringly from top to toe.

"Hullo, my noble American sailorman!" The voice at his back brought Barry around with a jerk. He glimpsed a figure which might have stepped direct from Bond Street or Fifth Avenue,—natty, trim, wide-shouldered. Under a soft panama hat a keen, shrewd face smiled so infectiously that the disgruntled seaman smiled back in spite of his