take a great fancy to Mart, and often when the boys were alone he would wander up, fill his cutty pipe, and settle down for a chat.

The crew was a strange lot. Of the nine men, five were brown-skinned Kanakas, but the other four were white, and seemed to be all old men, though they moved about spryly enough. Dailey was wrinkled and leathery, Birch had only one very black and sparkling eye, Yorke's mouth was twisted into a perpetual smile, and Borden was a quiet little man like old Jerry, gray-haired and respectful.

"They're a queer lookin' bunch," observed Bob one morning, as they left the wireless house and went forward to the bridge, watching the men sluicing down the decks forward.

"You bet," nodded Mart, laughing with sheer enjoyment of the blue sky and bluer ocean. "Where'd you pick 'em up, Jerry?"

Both boys turned to the quartermaster, who was at the wheel in the little house behind them. He smiled, as watches were changed and Dailey came up to relieve him.

"Where'd I find them, Mart? Oh, I just ran across 'em. Dailey, here, used to be on a ship wi' me, once." He looked around, and the leathery seaman grinned slightly.

"Who'll do the diving?" asked Bob, as they walked back to the wireless house and flung themselves into deck chairs, while old Jerry filled his pipe.

"Two o' the Kanakas, lad. They're main good at that."

"Are you goin' hunting with us?" shot out Mart. "Tiger hunting?"

"That depends, lad, that depends," and Jerry wagged his head solemnly. "I never killed a tiger yet. I've killed whales, though, aye, and tiger sharks! Think of the mystery of the sea, lads—wave after wave, with the fish down below and us up here above! Fish tell no tales, lads, fish tell no tales. There's strange things out where we be bound for."

"What?" asked Bob eagerly. "Sharks?"

The quartermaster nodded. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, then turned to Mart and laid a hand on the boy's knee.

"Lads, did you ever hear tell o' the Pirate Shark?"

Mart thrilled at the name, and the tone of the old man's voice gave him a creepy feeling, as it often did.

"No!" he exclaimed delightedly, scenting a yarn. "What about him?"

"Well, I've heard as he's livin' in the very place we're going to—that Kuala Besut, off Tringanu."

"Huh?" grunted Bob, sitting up quickly. "And us going to dive? Not much!"

Jerry laughed softly, gazing out at the sparkling waters.

"The Kanakas ain't afraid, lad. Only they don't know—they don't know. You see, this here Pirate Shark is pretty famous down through the Chiny Sea. But old Jerry Smith, he's the only one that knows. He's the only white man, lads. The Chinks know, and the Malays know, but they wouldn't go near the place. The mystery o' the sea, lads—wave after wave! The gold down below, and us up above—and fish tell no tales, lads—"

He fell silent, still gazing at the horizon. Mart glanced at Bob, and caught a significant wink as Holly tapped his forehead. Mart frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "Is there a shark by that name? What kind o' stuff are you handing us, Jerry?"

The old man turned and looked square at him, and his gentle face seemed suddenly changed into a swift vehemence that was amazing. But it vanished instantly, and he was himself again—as if he had put on a mask, thought Mart quickly.

"The Pirate Shark," answered old Jerry slowly. "Yes, I'll tell you about it, lads. There ain't many as knows where the Pirate Shark is, but old Jerry Smith, he knows. He's a big shark, he is—mighty big, an' a man-killer. He come up first at Thursday Island, years ago, an' caught half a dozen Jap pearlers. Then he showed up in the Flores Sea, an' for a year the fishers didn't dare visit the pearlin' beds. After that he went over to the Sulu Islands, down to Java, back to the Chiny Sea—always killin' men, natives or white. Then he vanished for a while—mystery o' the sea, lads, wave after wave—"

Again the old man paused, dreaminess on his gentle face. The boys were leaning forward eagerly, and Bob brought him back abruptly to the subject.

"But what about this place we're goin' to? Is he there now?"

Once more that peculiar look flitted across the wrinkled face—a look of swift suspicion, that vanished as quickly as it came. Jerry smiled softly.

"Why, yes! See here, lads, you promise you'll say nothing? I likes you fine, but I don't want news leakin' out. I'm an old man—fish tell no tales, lads—"

"Of course," agreed Mart instantly. "We'll keep quiet, Jerry." Bob nodded.

"Well, this is a yarn as a Chink told me, lads. But it's true, gospel true! A long time ago there was only Portugees an' Dutch in the Chiny sea, an' they carried on somethin' awful, fightin' an' robbin'. Once there was a big battle—"

"Yes!" volunteered Bob eagerly. "I was readin' about it last night—that time back about 1600 when the Dutch fought a Spanish armada for a week an' licked 'em!"

"It was a big battle," went on old Jerry. "One o' the ships drifted up to the coast of Tringanu an' sunk. Some o' the men got away, but she's there still—right where we're goin', lads, in Kuala Besut Bay. She's got treasure aboard, gold an' pearls an' such, an' the Pirate Shark's guarding her."

"Oh, rats!" laughed Mart, to whose practical mind treasure stories were all absurd. "If there'd been any treasure there it'd be gone long ago."

"So?" Jerry looked at him, and Mart felt suddenly afraid, so strange was the look in the bleared old eyes. "So? This Chink had been there wi' some Chink divers, after pearls, lads. O' course, folks know the wreck is down there, eight fathom down, lads. The Dutch has been there, the Japs, the Chinks—but they didn't get the gold, lads! 'Cause why? The Pirate Shark is there, keepin' watch. The divers went down, but he cut their air lines—he cut their air lines, lads! And they didn't come up. He's got a black fin, a big black back fin, which is one reason why he's called the Pirate Shark.

"But there's another reason, lads. That's because he went from one pearl fishery to another, cuttin' air hose, killin' men, keepin' the pearlers off the grounds. They were scared of him all through the south seas. When the big black fin cut the water, not even a Jap would go down. Fish tell no tales, lads, fish tell no tales! Man after man he ate, Malay an' Chink an' Britisher an' Arab, and now he's got the old galleon an' her gold, and no one knows where it is but the old quartermaster. The fish down below, lads, and us up above—"

"I guess you're mixed up, Jerry," said Bob quickly. "A little while ago you said that lots o' people know the wreck is there, but just now you say no one knows where it is except you. How 'bout that?"

Jerry chuckled, rising slowly to his feet.

"She's inside the lagoon, lad, eight fathom down, an' no one knows but old Jerry Smith where she is now. She used to be under the sand, but the tide and the river dug her out and she drifted, drifted, down with the fish. Fish tell no tales, lads—fish tell no tales! Now she's wedged up among the rocks, eight fathom down, wi' the Pirate Shark's flag over her. Lads, ye won't tell the cap'n or Joe Swanson that old Jerry told ye about the Pirate Shark, will you?"

"Sure not, Jerry," chorused the two together. Jerry nodded and turned.

"Well, I got to get down an' see to gettin' that cable flaked." And he shuffled away, muttering still of "wave after wave—the fish down below and us up above!"

The two boys stared at each other, their eyes sparkling. Incredible, wild and fantastic as the yarn sounded, something about the old quartermaster's manner had impressed them both with the fact that he believed it firmly.

"Do you s'pose it's true, Holly?" asked Mart.

"Blamed if I know," returned Bob slowly, for he seldom gave any direct opinion on a subject. "O' course it isn't true, because if he knew about that place and the gold and the wreck, he'd get after that shark in short