WHEN a carefully concocted plan carried out industriously and faithfully results in a total failure to achieve the end sought, the consequences are disastrous in more ways than one. There is first the loss of all the labor, which is important; and secondly, and far more important, there is also inevitably a loss of confidence in one’s own power to achieve success.
I went to my hammock under the shed that night humiliated to the last degree, with a sense of utter contempt for my own judgment,—in short, in a sneering mood, criticising the folly I had displayed in not foreseeing events and making due provision for them. In a rank spirit of self-criticism and self-condemnation I reviewed what I had done, and what I had left undone, and deliberately pronounced myself a stupid ass for all my pains. Nevertheless, as before stated I went very quickly to sleep, and slept the traditional sleep of the just until after dawn.
When I awakened, the new risen sun hung bathed in fleecy clouds of primrose just above a sea all golden and flashing with his level beams; the dew gemmed each blade and leaf; the cool morning air trembled gently among the glistening foliage; the birds sang in noisy chorus far and near; everything was fresh and rested and hopeful and fair and encouraging.
I felt braced and full of confidence and hope; all the worry and trouble of the night had rolled away and gone. Never say die! There is no such thing as fail.The only question now is, what shall we do next? How shall we protect the wreck where it lies, and overcome the obstacles that have risen in our path? I went whistling a jolly tune down to the bathing-place in the creek, took a cool plunge in the clear water, and returned light-hearted, confident, and happy, to rouse my companions, that they also might feel the inspiring effect of the beautiful morning. I wanted somebody to talk with, to discuss the hundred half-formed projects with which my brain already teemed. I wanted to get to work again on some new line, and felt that no moment should be lost. I went to the door and called them; then built a fire and put the kettle on for coffee.
When Alice Millward came down to the fire, radiant in the beauty of health and freshness, her cheek flushed, her beautiful eyes sparkling, and a rebellious tendril of silken hair trembling over her brow in the breath of the morning, I so looked my admiration that she instinctively blushed. I turned away, busying myself with the fire. Somehow I could not help whistling snatches of the merry air that had been running in my head all the morning.
She caught my eye presently and said in a tone of full conviction, “Mr. Morgan, you have found some way of getting that treasure. I know you have by your manner this morning.”
“You are mistaken, Miss Millward. I only wish you were not. The fact is I have only just found that it is possible to begin again calmly to think and plan. But that discovery is quite enough to cheer one. It is a good deal to have recovered from the stunning disappointment of yesterday, and to have regained composure and confidence; for that is equivalent to regaining one’s faculties. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she answered, with a little airof thoughtfulness, “but I really do not know; for to speak the truth I do not think I felt the disappointment so severely as either you or father. Of course I was sorry, but then you see I was not so deeply interested, perhaps, as you two were.”
Mr. Millward now came up, and after the usual morning greeting said, “I imagine it will now be in order to begin to think of getting back to civilization. Our labors here seem to have come to naught.”
“No,” said I with some heat, “I shall not leave until I find it utterly impossible to explore that sunken hull. I could not rest comfortably elsewhere so long as a bit of hope was left. Of course,” I added, after a moment’s pause, “I cannot ask you to remain. But I do hope you will consent to stay a few days longer. We ought to protect the wreck from destruction in some way before the next gale. And I think it can be done.”
“But how?” said he.
“Ah, that is the question, that is the problem,” I replied. “If we could build a breakwater across the mouth of the chasm in some manner the hull would lie safely where it is. We could then leave, and come back with divers to get the treasure at a later time.”
“To stand the shock of the waves which will dash through that place in a gale of wind from the right quarter, your breakwater will require to be a powerful structure. And the building of it would be an engineering feat of no small magnitude, I take it.” And the old man shook his head slowly, as though to say he did not believe it possible.
Even as he was talking, however, the half-formed plan which had been floating hazily through my mind took definite shape. The chasm, the rocks, the swell and waves racing through were all so pictured in my mind that there was no need to go again and look atthe place, because it was then before me in imagination as vividly as though I actually beheld it. The remedy for the danger was clear and plain to my mind. I went up to my two companions and taking a hand of each, said as earnestly as I felt: “We can do it. I see how it can be done. It is, I now believe, a piece of rare good luck that the old galleon drifted into that place. For consider; if she had struck upon the open beach she would inevitably have gone to pieces in the breakers, and who knows whether what of her cargo we want would have washed up to dry land. I tell you now, and believe me it is true, fortune has favored us.”
“But the breakwater,” said the old man, impatiently, “how can we construct such a thing?”
“Very well,” said I, with a smile and an air of mystery, “you shall know; but as the coffee boils, let us have breakfast, and we will discuss it over our coffee.”
“I am quite agreed to that,” replied he, “but fear it will need to be helped out by all the aid the good coffee can give it, my boy. However, I am open to conviction. You have done wonders in getting the wreck where she is, and I hope you may be right in your belief that the berth is a lucky one.”
When we were fairly seated, the corn bread broken, and the steaming hot coffee poured out by the hand of Alice, the old man nodded at me as much as to say, “Now fire away.”
Alice voiced the same request in words, saying: “Now give us your great plan, Mr. Morgan. I am sure it will be a success. How will you construct the breakwater?”
“My dear Miss Alice, I expect to induce the sea to do that work for me in the most part. I shall harness the wild waves of ocean to my dirt cart, and make them labor to protect the old hull they would delight todestroy.” And I calmly filled my mouth with corn bread, while Mr. Millward looked at me as though he feared I had become demented by the recent disappointment. There was silence for a moment or two. Then, looking furtively at me, he said:—
“But I do not understand how you expect to harness your steeds, even if such unruly creatures were willing to work for us.”
“Still, you will confess it is very simple,” I said, oracularly. “We have only to offer these waves work they always delight in doing, and you may be sure they will work day and night, high tide and low tide, to get it done, and when it is accomplished they will sigh and moan and crash and roar for more. That is the ceaseless, persistent disposition they have, and the harder the wind and the bigger the waves the quicker will the work be done. My plan is simply this: to get the waves to work throwing up sand to fill that chasm and bury the wreck if necessary in sand. If it is buried we can easily dig it out. But we need not wait for the entire chasm to be filled. It will be enough if the mouth and exit passage are filled. Look out at yonder beach and see the unruly breakers at their daily task of throwing up tons and tons of sand, and as constantly dragging it back again that they may have more of their delightful occupation. You have only to throw down a rock, or a branch, or some obstacle to retain the sand and hold it from being dragged back, and it will presently be buried beneath the heap which it has retained.”
“I see what you mean,” said Mr. Millward, setting down his cup of coffee, which he had held in his hand, “but I do not yet understand how you propose to prevent the constant scour that is going on in that race-way. You must first stop that scouring action, and then I agree that the place in time will fill with sand.”
Then I proceeded in detail to explain how by cutting down trees and throwing them into the mouth of the chasm I hoped first to get the tops buried in the sand, and then by adding brush and branches to create finally a bar of sand at this point, which could be constantly added to by more tree tops and branches and the sand cast up, until it was as high as the waves could reach. Near by grew mangrove trees in a little lagoon. These would answer our purpose as well as any; they could be felled into the water and floated to place.
All excitement and full of hope, now that a feasible plan had presented itself, we discussed the matter in all its bearings, until Mr. Millward, rising, declared we must waste no more time, but go to work while the weather held good. There was, indeed, no time to lose, as a northeast gale meant destruction to the old hulk, if it should occur before the guard could be built.
At once we loaded into the boat blankets and a sail for shelter, and provisions for several days, including five great calabashes of water, intending to camp at the point so as to be near our work while the present danger should continue. By nine o’clock we were out of the creek and under way, and soon reached the place where we intended to land. We moored the boat in safety under shelter of the rocks to the west of the point, where she would be safe except in case of a severe storm; then we put up the sail that we had brought for a tent, and landed such things as were wanted there, putting Alice as usual in control as housekeeper.
The long spar which we had used to connect the two triangles of our lifting-frame, we found beached to the west of the rocks, and torn loose from the triangles, which had washed away and disappeared. It was Mr. Millward’s suggestion that we could utilize this piece of timber to good advantage by cutting it to the rightlength, and wedging it across the mouth of the chasm at about the height of low water, for the butts of the trees forming the abattis to rest upon. To get this spar into the water and tow it around to the mouth of the chasm was the first job we undertook. For this purpose we used my boat, the “Mohawk,” as being the lightest to row. By dinner time (about one o’clock) we had the spar sawed off and dropped down between the rocks, where it wedged itself, as the wall was slanting at each side. To secure it more firmly in place we resorted to the expedient of tying a great stone on the end of a line and dropping it down on the spar several times at each end, standing for this purpose on the rocks above. We kept up this pile-driving operation until the spar began to splinter slightly. It now lay across the mouth of the chasm at about a foot above low water, so firmly wedged in place that no wave could displace it, unless it should be powerful enough to break the great, tough beam in twain, which was not very likely.
After dinner we took my boat into the small lagoon on the west coast near the north point, and began the other branch of our work by cutting down a couple of trees which stood near deep water, and grew in the water itself on branching roots uprising in a complicated maze. These trees, one at a time and by dint of hard work, we towed out into the sea and brought round to the mouth of the chasm. Here we manœuvred until we got the butt end pointed at the spar, and then let go at the right moment so that the swell as it entered the chasm swept the tree bodily into the exact place we wanted it to go, the butt lying on the wedged-in spar, and the top presented to the waves. To weight the top down and make it sink we threw into the branches several heavy rocks. When in place the tree lay at anangle of about forty-five degrees with the horizon, the butt resting on the spar, and the branches on the bottom.
I had some fear that the shock of the tree striking against the spar might dislodge the latter; but it had no effect of that kind, the spar being much too tightly wedged. Moreover the chasm, as I have already stated, narrowed gradually from the mouth inward as well as from the top downward. So the blows of the waves only served still further to tighten the spar in place. We managed to get the two trees in place and weighted with rocks before we were called to supper at sunset. We had made a fair start, and accomplished a good day’s work. The supper, spread on the ground and eaten by firelight, was a merry meal, though we were very tired and glad to get to sleep. We needed a strong rope that had been left at Home Creek, and I concluded to walk there along the beach after supper, and sleeping at home to return at early dawn with the rope before breakfast. So I bade my companions good-night and started down the beach. The way was easy, and I reached the house in little over an hour and turned in immediately to secure a much needed rest.
When I returned with the rope in the morning, as I came near the tent and while it was still hidden from view by the intervening foliage, I heard the voices of father and daughter joined in a hymn,—the clear, rich soprano of the girl, flute-like and full, mingling in harmony with the noble baritone of the old man, whose voice was still unbroken by age. I paused a moment to listen to the wonderful song of praise, in which were mingled the deep booming bass of the surf, the myriad voices of the birds trilling an accompaniment, and the interwoven notes of the hymn, rising and falling together in sweet accord,—and my own heart was lifted up tothe great Creator to whom such praise, I thought, might prove quite as acceptable as though sung by a full-voiced choir beneath cathedral arches to the accompaniment of the majestic chords of an organ.
When the strains of the hymn had ceased I came up, and the hearty greeting which I received was very pleasant. Indeed, the friendly sense of comradeship had become very strong among us all; and I have no doubt they were as glad to see me after this short absence as I truly was to see them.
After breakfast Mr. Millward and I began again at an early hour the work of filling, towing, placing, and weighting the trees. This day we placed five in position. The next day we brought and placed five more, by which time the entire mouth of the chasm was so full of the trunks, branches, and twigs that we could get no more in place. The fourth day of our labors we spent in casting loose rocks in among the branches. The fifth day we passed in watching thischevaux de friseand noting the effect of the waves, as they came frothing through the mass of twigs and branches. The structure—if such it may be called—held firmly and broke the swell completely.
We could do no more. The remainder of the work must be accomplished by the waves themselves in their own time and way. For this we must wait their pleasure. There was still quite a strong current through the chasm, and I wished very much that this could be lessened, as its tendency was of course to carry through a large portion of the sand which might otherwise be retained. When I spoke of this to Mr. Millward he immediately proposed that we should partly fill the narrow exit passage with rocks and limbs to check this current, and on the sixth day we began this job. Instead of floating whole trees, which we could not havemanaged to get into place without the aid of an ingoing swell, we cut and carried limbs and branches, which, together with rocks, were thrown down from above, until the end of the exit passage was a frothing mass of water struggling through the tangle. This very much lessened the current, and we were well satisfied with the work. That evening we sailed the two boats back to Home Creek and moored them in their former haven. The next day, which was the Sabbath, we spent in rest at home, leaving the waves now to do their work, and confident that no harm could come to the hulk if the fair weather would continue for a few days longer.
In the morning, while we were seated beneath the shed, Mr. Millward read selections from the Psalms, in his deep, sonorous voice and impressive manner. We joined afterward in prayer and hymn, and when this simple service was over I started with Alice for a walk on the beach to the south, while Mr. Millward composed himself for a comfortable smoke in the shade. The walking on the sand just above the reach of the waves, and yet where it was wet by an occasional toppling roller that came spuming up the slope farther than its fellows, was excellent, for the wetted sand was hard and firm and cool to the feet. Everywhere lay fragments of sea-weed, shells, and the curious forms of sea life cast up by the waves. We amused ourselves by collecting specimens of the many-tinted weeds, mosses, and fragile structures, whether vegetable or animal I know not, nor could any save a naturalist draw the dividing line. Alice explained how these delicate forms could be spread out and dried, by first floating them in water until they were untangled, and then lifting them out by a plate of glass and drying them on paper.
“I look forward now,” said she, “to the time when we shall be sailing away from our island home, and Iwould like to carry with me something by which to remember this beautiful beach.”
“Are you getting tired of the life, Miss Millward?”
“Ah, no,” she quickly answered, “not tired of it; far from that. It seems now quite like a home to me. You must remember that it is many years since father and I have remained so long in one place as we have been here. I have grown quite to love this beautiful island. And the work and the life is a real pleasure to me. But yet I fear that father is pining to be back to his work, or to civilization, though he has not yet said so in my hearing. It is hard, you know, for an old man to change his habits.”
“I suppose you would find it pleasanter if you had some one of your own sex as a companion,” said I.
“Perhaps so,” thoughtfully, “but I have never had any girl friends, you know, in all my life; for we have been here in this region, among the islands, since I was quite a child, and have gone about from place to place so much that I have had no chance to meet such friends as I might feel like making my companions. The people are mostly of quite another religion from ours,—those who are white I mean,—and though I have many friends among the colored people, the Hindoos and others, the friendship has not made me any comrades. Father has often said that he feared it was his duty to send me north among people of my own kind, that I might learn better what life in this world really means. But I think I do know, for it must be much the same everywhere; and I should not like to leave father here alone.”
The thought of the wandering life which this motherless girl had led, among poor, half-heathen people, touched me, and I had it on my tongue to contrast such an existence with the very different sort of surroundingsshe might have had elsewhere. But why should I do this? Even if she could understand it, which was doubtful, no good could come of creating in her mind longing and discontent; though I honestly believe discontent never could have found entrance to such a candid and happy mind, no matter what might be held up for her imagination to consider.
The sun soon beat down with fiery rays, and I cut for her a leaf of fan palm to form a sort of parasol. The picture she made in her light dress, against the blue sea all filled with glowing brightness, the shade of the graceful leaf falling upon her, will live long in my memory. It seemed to me that her pure soul shone out from the beautiful eyes that now and again met mine. Rare combination of something that seemed straight from heaven with what was sweetly human and of our earth; the clear, pure spirit, and the beautiful woman glowing with health and filled with life and color and made for human love—was there ever before, whispered my tortured heart, such an incomparable being? Dare I speak to her of what fills my mind and soul? No; most certainly not.
Now in point of fact I was making love to this girl with all my might, and did not know it. I wooed her all unconsciously, and had not dared to woo her at all. The divine passion, I have since been told, needs no word or sign; and this girl, divinely pure and yet sweetly human, inexperienced as she was, must have felt that I adored her. If she had never heard of the love of man for woman—and most likely she had never given it a thought—still she must have known my devotion to her quite as well as though the burning words that ever kept throbbing up from my heart for utterance had passed my lips. But I could not know. And so I alternated between the medium plane of faint hopeand the cold depths of despair. I conclude, as I now look back, that I was not doing so badly as I then thought.
We sat down on a rock together to watch the little hermit crabs, each with a stolen shell that it had converted into a house, now peering out, now drawing itself in, now dragging its house along the sand in search of food or a better location,—funny little creatures, that seem to link the spider family to the crabs. Her hand was on my arm; we sat close together; the curved, flat edges of the spent waves nearly reached our feet as they stole up the sand; the solemn sound of the sea was in our ears, and the enchanting song of a first love filled my heart.
And then we wandered slowly on along the beach, now and then compelled by a higher flow to step aside; we examined the lovely shells that lay in numbers and great variety bleaching on the margin of the dry sand, or wetted by the rising water; the little skipping sand borers; now and again a gaping clam or hideous sea slug; dry shells of the great horse-shoe crabs; bladder-weed and ocean tangle; and all the wonderful débris that the sea casts up. Then turning in toward the land we came among the tall, graceful stems of the cocoa-palm, their feathery heads trembling and rustling in the gently stirring air. Here we found in a low shrub the little nest of one of those diminutive wagtail wrens, and while the anxious mother fluttered near, feigning a wound or inability to fly in order to draw us away from her precious little ones, we looked at the four tiny, gaping-mouthed children clad in down and naked helplessness, until the distress of the comical little matron induced us to move away from the nest in pity.
We found too the purple passion-flower and gaudycactus blossoms bursting out in showy splendor from thorn-armed, fleshy leaves, bright-feathered parrots and parroquets, a little humming-bird that bore a flashing jewel in his breast and made a misty halo round about him with his rapid wing, beating the air so fast that it seemed to the eye a faint sphere of cloud.
And so we wandered on side by side, talking of what we saw. I parted the thorny bushes for her path, lifted her over the rocks and logs, and hand in hand we crossed the grassy open where I had gathered seeds, now ripe again, and thus came finally home, as the sun stood in the zenith.
We found the old man sleeping peacefully in my hammock under the shed, with Bible in hand lying open on his breast. Duke lay on the ground below him, furtively opening an eye now and then, though without stirring when we came up. On the fire, now burned nearly out, slowly steamed and simmered the dinner stew, whose appetizing odors floating to us apprised us of the fact that we were very hungry, just as the cool shade told us we were very warm, and the inviting armchairs suggested that we were really tired.
WHEN I arose shortly after dawn the next morning, it was with no small degree of satisfaction that I found the sun brightly shining, and every indication present of a continuance of the fair weather and gentle breezes which had now held continuously for ten days. Very anxious to know the condition of the breakwater, Mr. Millward and I, shortly after a hearty breakfast of fish freshly caught, started for a walk up the beach to the resting-place of the galleon. We found no apparent change in the condition of the larger breakwater,—the one across the mouth of the chasm,—but strangely enough the smaller one, across the exit passage, had so far silted up with sand as to form an almost complete obstruction to the flow of a current through the chasm at low water. Indeed, the sand had almost buried the branches we had cast in, and was risen so far as to be plainly visible just below the surface of the water. This was an altogether unexpected result, and it now looked very much as though the silting and filling was to take place from the exit backward to the mouth, instead of from the mouth as we had calculated. However, it mattered not to us how the capricious waves chose to do their work, if only it were done.
We had brought the axe along, and without delay we began to cut and pile into the exit passage more limbs and branches and rocks, until the place was full to alevel somewhat above high-tide mark. To facilitate further the formation of this bank, we cast many branches into the waters of the chasm just back of the newly formed sand-bar, that it might be caused if possible to rise high enough to prevent any through current and consequent scouring action even at high tide.
We tried hard to ascertain whether the sand had begun to accumulate at the breakwater across the mouth; but were unable to do so because of the lack of transparency of the water, which held in suspension a large percentage of sand and foreign matter stirred up by the swell. We both expressed our confidence that as soon as the current through the chasm was stopped, the sand would begin to silt in and fill up the main breakwater.
It was two hours after noon when we returned to the house again. After dinner we all three turned to the work of digging sweet potatoes in my old garden, and storing them under the shed. All the crops were doing finely and we found some green Indian corn just ripe enough to boil. In the cool of the evening we sat under the shed to watch for the new moon to rise, discussing the theory and probable action of sand deposit by waves.
Mr. Millward’s theory—and I believe it to be the correct one—was that the sand was held in suspension only while the water was in very considerable motion; and that it fell to the bottom almost instantly when the motion of the water ceased. He likened it to stirring sugar, not yet dissolved, in a glass of water. As soon as the stirring stopped the sugar fell to the bottom. “Thus, for example,” he explained, “when a wave comes up on the beach in front of us, it is more or less charged with sand; the sand is deposited just when the wave has spent its force and paused before the return flow. But, of course, the sand so deposited on thenaked beach would be picked up again and carried back, to be again brought up, and so on in ceaseless round.” And the reason, he insisted, why the sand gathered at the last breakwater in the chasm instead of at the first one, was simply because at that place the current and consequent motion were least.
Each morning I walked up the beach to the chasm, sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by Mr. Millward. In two days the breakwater at the exit was completely covered with sand, which rose above the level of high tide, and the sand had already begun to silt into the chasm back of the exit. On the third day we found a great shark embayed in the chasm and dashing around the old hull every little while, as though in a flurry of excitement. Each time a wave would break in he would endeavor to swim out, following the retreating water,—for now there was no longer a current through,—but the trees and limbs prevented him. Mr. Millward said he seemed like an evil spirit set to guard the galleon and its treasure; and indeed it would have been a dangerous thing for any one to attempt exploration of the wreck while this man-eating sentinel patrolled the narrow water where she lay.
The sight of this voracious fish reminded me very forcibly of the great danger which would have attended any attempt to reach the hull by diving when the galleon lay out in the sea. Had I brought my diving-apparatus safely to the island, as I originally intended to do, it is quite possible, and even probable, that I should have found a grave among the gastric fluids of some such shark. Strangely enough, in all the many times I had looked at the wreck through the water-glass while it lay out in the sea, I had never seen a single shark, though other fish had been visible in considerable numbers and variety. But doubtless, as is the treacherous nature of this tiger of the sea, he was lying there concealed and instinctively watching the boat in expectation of prey. It made me shudder involuntarily to think of the possible encounter that I might have had. As the shark imprisoned in the chasm was no present inconvenience to us, we allowed him to remain undisturbed where he was.
As we stood on the rock which adjoined the shore, watching the frothing of the surges through the breakwater at the mouth of the chasm, I pointed out to Mr. Millward that every few minutes, at intervals of about every third wave, the water rushing back met the incoming wave exactly at the breakwater and the resulting interference produced there a temporary quiet in the waters.
“Now,” said I, in reference to this fact, “if your theory is right we ought to be getting a discharge of sand at the breakwater every time there is such a meeting of the waters there.”
“Of course,” said he, “there is no doubt of it; and we shall soon be having a bar at this point. Whether this bar will rise high enough to stop the water materially from coming in before the whole chasm has silted full of sand is something we cannot determine except by waiting to find out by actual test.”
“Nor does it greatly matter,” I added, “for in either event the galleon would be safely housed.”
The weather held fair for a week longer, and at the end of that time it had become quite evident that a bank of sand was steadily forming at the mouth of the chasm. It was already nearly up to the surface at low water, so that the inrush of water was very small compared with what it had been. We had gone up to the chasm in the morning as usual, and then again in theevening of the same day, as the weather was very threatening and the heat intense, and a glassy calm was on the sea, which, almost devoid even of a swell, spread out in a flat, metallic-looking plain with scarcely a wrinkle. A storm was surely brewing, and we might expect it that night or the following day at latest. But as there was nothing to do, except to wait its arrival and abide the result, I only went to the chasm to satisfy my curiosity. When I arrived, an hour or two before sunset, and examined the place carefully, I thought the galleon would probably be safe, unless the surge became so heavy as to sweep the breakwater out on its return flow. Mr. Millward was of the same opinion.
About midnight that night I was wakened by a tremendous crash of thunder. The sky was black with heavy clouds, lit up at short intervals by the lightning, and it had already begun to rain. Owing to the heat, I had been sleeping in my hammock at the shed. I immediately got up, partly dressed myself, and carried my hammock to the house, where I found my companions both wakened by the thunder. I called Duke in and secured the door, expecting a heavy rain, which speedily came down with a rush and steady roar upon the thatched roof. The wind followed from the old quarter, the northeast, and soon became almost a gale, beating and driving the rain against the walls in angry gusts.
Mr. Millward and I, talking through the darkness, speculated on the probable result to the galleon; but being unable, of course, to reach any satisfactory conclusion, we dropped finally to sleep, thus forgetting our worry and anxiety.
In the morning, after a cold breakfast, without coffee,—for the fire was out, everything in the way of fuel waswet, and there was no sun visible,—I started for the chasm. Breasting the stiff gale, which was accompanied by spits and dashes of rain, I made my way along the beach, full of apprehension as I saw the huge rollers come crashing in, and the heavy swell that had been raised by the gale. When I came to the north cape, and the rocks forming the chasm were in sight, the scene was indeed one of grandeur, and my worst fears seemed to have good grounds. The tremendous swell running in against the rocks broke with a thunderous noise; the spray flew high in the air, and was blown apparently clear over the rocks.
I had hurried along thus far as rapidly as I could travel against the strong wind; but now I hesitated, dreading to go far enough to see what had happened to the galleon. However, no good could come of waiting, so I plunged ahead and soon came to the rock which joined the shore, and ascended it that I might have a fair view of the chasm. I found that the chasm no longer existed as we had known it. Instead of an open race-way through which the current rushed, or into which the rollers broke, there was now a peaceful little pool, in the midst of which the galleon was dimly visible, sunk some feet below the surface. The water in this pool was not very clear; for every few minutes a mighty shower of spray flung on high fell like rain upon its surface, and the rocks all about were drenched, and covered with little rivulets. Even the spot where I stood was not exempt, but I took the wetting with cheerful fortitude under the circumstances. Both breakwaters were completely covered with sand. The one at the mouth was almost like a sand-hill, and reached nearly to the stem of the galleon, but was so drenched by the falling spray that I did not care to go upon it. The one at the rear, or exit, was far enoughaway so that the spray did not fall upon it to any great extent, and I therefore climbed down upon it to see how firm it was. I was very certain no one seeing this bank of sand would have imagined how it had been made. There was no indication whatever that the hand of man had had anything to do with its construction. It looked quite as though the sand had lain there for ages. The waves had done their work most thoroughly, and the aged hulk now rested in a quiet, land-locked harbor, as safe and secure from the sea as though it were in a dry dock.
Wet through by rain and spray combined, but elated and in the highest of spirits at the condition of our work, I hastened back as fast as my feet would carry me, helped on by the wind now at my back, to convey the joyful intelligence to my companions. Duke, who had accompanied me, seemed to read my satisfaction in my face and actions, for he bounded along frisking and barking as though the whole thing were a grand frolic. When I came to the creek he had already run on ahead to the house, so that Mr. Millward and Alice were apprised of my return, and were at the door looking for me as I came up to the house.
“What news do you bring?” asked the old man, anxiously.
“The best of good news,” cried I, “the very best of good news! The galleon is safely and snugly at rest in a basin where a tornado could not reach it.”
“Well, that is good!” said the old man, fervently.
“Excellent!” echoed the daughter, and added, solicitously, “but you are very wet, Mr. Morgan, and you must change your garments at once. It will never do to have the courier who brings such good tidings take harm by his journey.”
After I had gone into my little sleeping-place and puton dry clothing, we sat down, and I had to describe minutely what I had seen. We then went into general committee to discuss ways and means for getting at the cargo of the sunken hull. Mr. Millward was for setting sail at the first favorable wind for Martinique to get divers and return with them. But I could not bring myself to agree to leaving the galleon to chance for so long a time as that might require. We had already successfully overcome so many difficulties that those remaining seemed trifling in comparison; though I am free to confess that just how we were to get at the contents of the hull was not at all clear to my mind at that time.
We had discussed the situation a long time, and as I had nothing to offer but mere resistance and unwillingness to leave, I felt that the old gentleman was gradually getting the better of the discussion, and had fairly driven me to the last ditch, when Alice came to my assistance with a suggestion that supplied a new stock of ammunition to my retreating forces.
The dear girl’s suggestion was in these words, “Why don’t you pump the water out of the basin and leave the galleon dry?”
Why, indeed? What was to hinder? It would be difficult to make an air-pump, but not at all difficult to contrive some sort of water-raising device.
“Thanks, fair Alice, for the idea. It rehabilitates me,” thought I; and meeting her eyes I added aloud, “You have hit upon the very idea, Miss Alice. We can get the water out of that basin with far less trouble than a voyage to Martinique and return would cost.”
The old man was silent.
Turning to him I said, “Your daughter deserves our warmest thanks, Mr. Millward, for this suggestion. Now we have only to contrive some water-lifting device,and we can set to work on the final task. What do you say?”
“I say that if it is feasible I will stay of course.”
We discussed all the water-raising contrivances we had ever heard of, from the primitive Egyptian shadoof—a bucket on a balanced pole—to the rotary steam-pump. But steam-pumps were not to be had, and it was aggravating to think about them. However, I went conscientiously through the entire list, and was listened to most patiently. It chanced that among other devices there was one I had heard of as being used in India by the natives to raise water for irrigation. It consisted of a wheel to which were suspended a number of gourds. Mr. Millward at once remembered seeing these very machines in use, and told how he had witnessed the breech-clouted coolies toiling with them on the banks of the rivers. He immediately agreed that we could easily build such a machine, and that it would accomplish the work.
“The amount of water raised in a day from the river with one of these rude machines and poured into the irrigating canal by the efforts of a single native workman is truly astonishing,” said he. After thinking a moment he added, “But you overlook one thing, Mr. Morgan. These machines are only adapted to lifting water from a river or other source of supply which remains at or near a constant level. Now, here the water to be lifted will be getting constantly lower, and as it falls the wheel also must be lowered and would soon be so low that it would no longer bring the gourds high enough to discharge their contents above the breakwater. You see that, do you not?”
In truth, I had not seen it at all. But when the difficulty was thus suggested it was plain enough that such a wheel would never do for what we wanted. Idid not answer this most pertinent suggestion, for the very good reason that it could not be controverted. The wheel idea was quite out of the question.
After a little while he resumed by saying, “But I have also seen a modification of the same sort of machine, in which the gourds were attached to an endless rope instead of to the wheel itself. This device is used by the same people where the water is to be raised to a greater height than can conveniently be done with the wheel. I think we might possibly make such a modification work successfully.”
“Can you recall how this modification was constructed?” said I, anxiously.
“Perhaps I can recall enough to enable you to get the idea,” he replied, throwing back his head and closing his eyes in the effort to remember. “Yes,” said he, after a little reflection, “I think I can. I remember the general features very well indeed. However, the most vivid recollection I have, connected with these machines, is the hideous, creaking screech of their ungreased axles as they were turned hour after hour all through the hot summer nights, the natives ‘spelling’ one another at the work. How well I remember the dry, hot nights when I lay listening to these sounds from far and near. You could easily tell when the laboring coolie was tired by the gradual slowing of his machine and the lengthening of the interval between screeches. Then a fresh man mounted the treadmill and the screeches quickened; and so these monotonous alternations continued through the still night.”
After a few reminiscences of his old life in India the old man proceeded to give a description of the machine as nearly as he could recall it. It consisted of a drum, or skeleton wheel, about six feet in diameter, mounted ona platform over the water; each end of the drum overhung the platform and carried an endless rope, to which open-mouthed gourds were tied at regular intervals. The drum was revolved by stepping on its bars as in a treadmill. The gourds were carried down into the water empty and brought up full by the endless rope. Troughs at each side received the water as the gourds tipped to return. In short, it was a sort of chain-pump, or modification of that well-known device. From his description, aided by my own imagination and a full knowledge of the result sought, I was able to reconstruct in my mind this machine, or at least to see how one could be built that I conceived would answer the purpose. We agreed that we would start at this work as soon as the weather was pleasant enough to be out of doors with reasonable comfort.
It was very tedious to be without any fire or means of obtaining one during the rain. The house was getting damp; we missed our hot coffee; cold victuals were not pleasant, and our supply of cooked food was about gone, so that if the rain continued we should speedily be reduced to raw bacon and cocoanuts. As the leaden sky gave no immediate promise of sunshine, Mr. Millward and I concluded to try our hand at producing fire by friction. For this purpose we attached a piece of hard wood to the final shaft of the old fanning-mill, and setting it in rapid motion held a piece of soft wood against it as it revolved. I turned the crank while he held the wood. It presently began to char and smoke, but no fire came, though I ground away until the sweat poured off my body. We were about to give it up as a bad job, when Mr. Millward hit upon the idea of rasping off a quantity of fine wood-dust by grinding a piece of wood on the end of the iron shaft itself. When he had collected some of thisand sprinkled it into the hot, smoking cavity of the softwood stick the motion soon caused the light material to catch fire, and we were speedily rewarded with a glowing coal from which we were able to start the fire, which you may be certain was not permitted to go out again. I very quickly had a hot fire in the oven, one near the shed out of doors, and a third in the fireplace of the house. With fire, life became speedily more endurable.
The comforting and cheering influence of an open fire, the sight of the blaze or the glowing coals, is a mysterious thing, and is not to be explained by the mere personal comfort due to the warmth, for a close stove or a steam coil will give that as well and perhaps better and more equably. There is an instinctive something deep down in the heart of man that responds to the open fire, and makes it act like a tonic on the disposition. This feeling is common apparently to all mankind. Everybody alike, old or young, rich or poor, is cheered by the glow and blaze of the fireside, the crackle of the burning, the sight of the flames on the hearth. Men who have been brought up from childhood to live in houses heated by the modern steam, hot-water, or hot-air apparatus, or have lived in the tropics where fires for warmth are rarely if ever needed, no sooner approach the blazing hearth than they feel its cheering influence. I have thought sometimes that the explanation might be found in heredity,—in a deep-seated habit of the human mind descending from parent to child through countless ages and generations. Far back of history, in the dim twilight of primitive life, we may imagine our ancestors living in such wildness as can scarcely be found on earth to-day even among the lowest savages; and we can picture the primitive hunter returning exhausted from the chase to seek his rest and comfort by the openfireside. By the fireside he rests, by the fireside he eats, here he meets his family, here in his nakedness he is warm, here are all his joys and loves and comforts. Every pleasure and every comfort are directly associated with the sight of the glowing embers and the bright, leaping blaze. And this has been going on through thousands and thousands of years. When Nature so impresses their habits upon her creatures that the dog, ages after it has become domesticated, will yet run round and round before lying down on a carpet, because its wild ancestors did so in order to flatten the tall grass in which they slept, is it too much to believe that man should have kept the habit of associating comfort with the sight of an open fireside?
Whatever may be the true explanation, the fact was that the glowing fire in the chimney cheered our hearts, and made us merry, as we sat laughing and talking and joking, and listening to the old man’s tales that night; and this pure delight was not in any wise lessened by the moaning of the wind and the intermittent dash of the rain upon the walls and roof. We three and Duke, in a sociable semi-circle lighted only by the flickering rays of the fire, enjoyed the shelter, the homelike sense of comfort, and the quiet of perfect content that night, and it seemed to all, I doubt not, as it did to me, a pity that the hour of bedtime should come around to break up so pleasant a party.
FOR two days longer the rain continued, and then with a gentle southerly breeze the sky cleared and the sun came out again, lighting up once more the land and sea and releasing us from the confinement indoors, which had begun to grow irksome. Of course the first thing to be done was for all three of us to be ferried over the creek and to walk up the beach to the galleon. The two sand-banks were now dry and the water in the basin was quite clear and transparent, so that the hull was plainly visible, the raised poop and forecastle being only about three or four feet under the surface. All her masts and spars had fallen and disappeared long ago. A cluster of corals seemed to indicate where the foremast once had stood. A curious thing was the appearance of a single pane of glass which was visible in the side of the cabin. This pane had changed its transparent quality to a milky condition of pearly irridescence, and shone under water like a gem as it caught and reflected the light from above.
This vessel never could have been noted for speed, I thought, as the hull appeared to be a regular tub, with high bows and stern, a great breadth of beam, and a low mid-deck or waist where lay the green remains of what had once been four brass carronades. When sailing close-hauled she probably went to leeward faster than she drew ahead. Doubtless such was the ancient fashion of ships, and it accounts for the fact that the old voyagers were sometime wind-bound, until the green moss and weeds grew plentiful on their hulls, and the water and provisions gave out, and the dreadful scurvy came to sweep away half the crew. I could picture this lumping old craft as she might have looked when the old admiral commanded her beneath the broad flag of Spain,—her crowded decks, her tall masts, the gorgeous array of bright-colored garments worn by the dusky grandees who were on board, the images of the saints, the crucifix at the wheel, the shaven priest, and all the pomp and ceremony that attended her clumsy progress to strange ports.
I knew the history of her last voyage well. I knew how she had twice rounded Cape Horn and stanchly buffeted the storms of two oceans; of the troops she had landed, the treasure she had taken up, and the final scene when with sails set and colors flying she sank beneath the waves. Long ago every soul who then lived had gone to the other world; the admiral, his officers and his crew, the king and queen and all their court were now returned to dust. Yet here lay the fabric of teak and oak, still strong and stanch and enduring, and the store of gold that I hoped to get. Were the shades of these departed ones aware that a heretic was planning and contriving to get the long sunken treasure, so much of which had been once designed for the coffers of the holy mother Church?
We made a careful survey of the basin, and selected the lesser bank of sand, that forming the breakwater at the narrow end of the chasm, as a suitable site for the pumping-apparatus. Mr. Millward pointed out to me the fact that the water stood higher in the basin than the then level of the sea,—a proof, he insisted, that the water did not percolate to any considerable extentthrough the firmly packed sand. This was a highly important fact to us. Had it been otherwise we never could have hoped to pump the basin dry, or below the sea level.
With a line we took some measurements which we expected to need, and then set out on our return to the house.
As a matter of convenience we decided to build the water-raising machine complete and set it up and test it at the creek near the house, where we could be near such domestic comforts as we possessed; after which we could load it on the boat and convey it to the chasm. And this work we set about at once. As I have already indicated what this machine was to be I need not here again detail minutely its construction. The wheel we made chiefly of stout bamboo, the water-troughs of hollowed logs; the bearings, in deference to Mr. Millward’s recollection of the uncouth screeching of the machine’s Indian predecessors, we supplied liberally with grease. In ten days the thing was complete and set up at the creek for trial,—troughs, platform, and all. I had arranged that the water might flow from the troughs into a ditch leading to our garden to irrigate the growing crops.
When all was ready I mounted the wheel, and like a horse in a treadmill (perhaps a better simile would be like a hod-carrier climbing an endless ladder) began to turn it. Up came the full gourds, splashing the water at quick intervals alternately into the two troughs, whence it flowed down to the ditch in tinkling rills, steadily and continuously, as long as I chose to keep up the ladder-climbing action. It was going to prove rather hard work, I fancied; but nevertheless it was a perfect success, as I was continually lifting more than half my own weight in water with as little exertion ascould have been required to accomplish that result. Then Mr. Millward tried his footing on the machine; and finally we had to help up Alice to try it in turn. Altogether it was unanimously pronounced a grand success, and we only waited for a fair wind that we might take it down and embark it for the chasm. Unfortunately for our patience, the wind veered around into the northeast again, and was quite too heavy to allow us to make the voyage with safety, as the rollers came tumbling in over the bar at the mouth of the creek at such rate that there would be great danger of swamping the boat in any endeavor we might make to get outside.
I was so impatient at this delay that I had half a mind to take the machine apart and attempt to carry it piecemeal overland. But it was useless to repine over the inevitable. It was not probable that I should gain an hour of time by undertaking to lug the machine overland, and I should simply have a great labor for naught. There was therefore nothing to do but to possess our souls with patience and await the issue.
Aside from the wind, which blew half a gale, the weather was pleasant, and the sun shone warm and bright. As we had nothing better to do, it was agreed that we should make an overland excursion to the old plantation for the purpose of getting some fresh fruit. One morning early, after a good breakfast, we ferried over the creek and started with light hearts and in holiday spirits up the beach, the wind blowing stiffly and the breakers crashing in beside us. I assisted Alice Millward with my arm, for the breeze was strong enough to make walking against it difficult for a woman. With bowed heads we beat slowly along until we reached the hog path, and were glad to turn into it and get under shelter of the vegetation, which broke the wind and made progress comfortable. Neither of my companions had ever been over this road before, and I explained what might be expected from moment to moment as we advanced. When we came to the cleft in the rocks where the stream came through, Alice and her father were delighted with the romantic and picturesque beauty of the place; the bold, precipitous rocks, the stream, the overarching trees growing far above, the dense beds of fern, tall and feathery, were all duly admired.
When we emerged into the north valley, we found a great herd of pigs that scattered and ran wildly at our approach. I managed to lasso a little porker, just old enough to roast, which we proposed to have for dinner. The orange grove was as before plentifully laden with oranges in all stages of growth, many of them quite ripe, a delicious refreshment. We soon reached the house, and building a fire in the broad fireplace of the kitchen, spitted the porker in front of it, and leaving him to twirl slowly before the fire on a twisting cord, we wandered over the old garden and plantation, Alice and I often hand in hand. I felt sure that she was pleased at my undisguised attention to her comfort, and that it gave her pleasure to be with me; and this in turn gave me unspeakable delight.
We were among the bananas and plantains seeking some of the latter to bake as an accompaniment for our dinner of roast pig, when I heard what sounded like the distant report of a gun. The sound was so faint and distant that I could not be entirely sure of my impressions, until I had asked Alice,—
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” she replied, “it sounded as though somebody had fired a pistol far away over yonder on the high land.”
We listened intently several minutes for a repetition ofthe sound, but as we heard nothing the impression soon passed away; for our conversation, however uninteresting it would seem if written down, was, I assure you, of most absorbing interest, at least to me, though we talked of nothing in particular, and like children laughed at everything out of mere high spirits. We went now with our plantains to the house, where Mr. Millward was gone to look after the roast. He came out to meet us, smiling at our evident enjoyment as he heard the merry ringing laughter of his daughter, over some nonsense or other I had been putting into words. As we all three stood in the shadow of the great veranda, upon its brick pavement, between the joints of which the rank vegetation was sprouting, I heard again, and this time borne on the wind quite distinctly, two shots in quick succession. There was no mistaking the sound this time. I saw instantly in the faces of both my companions that each had heard the unusual sound. Mr. Millward cried quickly: “A gun! who can be firing a gun on the island?”
“What can this mean?” thought I. And again we listened, but there was no repetition of the report.
“Somebody besides ourselves is on the island,” said Mr. Millward.
We stood now looking at each other in silence for several minutes. My mind reverted at once to the pearl-fishers. They had doubtless returned, and the shots we had heard indicated that they were pig-hunting. The same thought had occurred to Mr. Millward, and he immediately expressed his fear that the pearl-fishers had come back. Indeed, it did not need any great power of divination to determine this, because the chances were as a hundred to one against any other visitors. All the picnic and holiday hilarity of our excursion was over. We were full of anxiety and care at once. The probability was that we had neighbors, of a most undesirable character,—lawless adventurers who would have small respect and consideration for us if we stood in their way, or even if they thought so. If they discovered that we had surprised their secret it was impossible to say what they might do. I had often thought of the contingency which now apparently presented itself, and had cogitated much and to no purpose as to what I should do when it arose. And now the thing so long feared as a possibility was actually upon us. Unexpectedly at the last it came like a skeleton to mar our happy feast. We hurried through our dinner in anxious mood and immediately started back home, laden with the fruit we had collected.
When we reached home everything was as we had left it. There had been, so far as we could tell, no visitor in our absence. We arrived about three o’clock in the afternoon. I was restive with the uncertainty and anxiety that the sound of those three gunshots had occasioned. I felt that I must know speedily the exact truth. Our own personal safety, to say nothing of the treasure ship, was possibly involved, and I determined to go at once to Farm Cove, where they would probably be encamped, and reconnoitre the enemy secretly. Of course there would be danger of encountering the pig-hunter, or party of pig-hunters on the way, but I must endeavor by caution to avoid this. When I announced my intention both Mr. Millward and Alice opposed my going; but I was able very soon to convince them that it was necessary.
About four o’clock I started alone, not permitting the dog to accompany me. I took the small axe from Mr. Millward’s boat, my lasso, some food, and a small gourd of water slung as a canteen over my shoulder. I told them I might not return until the next day; butthat if I did not get back before the next night they might conclude I had been captured; and in that event it would be wise for them to embark in their boat and make the best of their way to Martinique. But Mr. Millward proposed a better plan, which was that if I did not return by the next night, he and Alice, provided the weather was such as to permit it, would take both boats out of the creek and anchor just beyond the breakers, and wait there another day. This was such an excellent idea that I at once agreed to it.
Bidding them farewell I plunged into the forest and made my way cautiously to the central elevated plateau, climbing the rocks by the path which I had first ascended. Here the open nature of the growth made the utmost caution indispensable, for I might at any moment now come upon the visitors, if they were still out pig-hunting. It was necessary that I should see them before they saw me. This made my progress very slow. Looking carefully about in every direction, and listening for every sound, I advanced a hundred yards or so and repeated the observation, concealing myself as thoroughly as the nature of the ground permitted. On the connecting ridge between the central plateau and the shore cliffs I came upon convincing evidence of the presence of visitors on the island. Here a pig had been killed and disembowelled. The viscera still fresh lay upon the ground, and a broad mark where the carcass had been dragged along led away toward the shore cliffs in the direction of Farm Cove. I had now little doubt that I should find the visitors at that place. It was fully an hour before sunset, and I thought it best to conceal myself and wait until dark before advancing further. I secreted myself therefore amid a thick clump of ferns, and patiently waited for the friendly shelter of the night.
As I sat thus buried in the ferns among the moss-grown rocks, looking out through a break in the forest toward the southern sky, where lay a battlemented mass of sun-dyed cloud, heavy and fantastic in outline, there passed through my mind thoughts of the life and curious adventures of that Henry Morgan, my ancestor’s brother, who two hundred years ago had roamed these seas and besieged the Spanish strongholds. Fancy pictured in the tinted clouds the fortified city of Porto Bello, the seaport of Panama on the Atlantic side of the isthmus, which the intrepid Morgan attacked with four hundred and sixty of his men, having resolved to reduce this strongly fortified place as a preliminary to the capture of the rich city of Panama itself. There was in my mind the vision of the gray walls, the gorgeous banners, the smoke and roar of guns, the white-faced priest and pale nuns looking from the convent walls, the scaling-ladders, the grim, determined Anglo-Saxon sailors, mingled with the equally determined Dutch and the black-bearded Frenchmen, constituting Morgan’s little band. I could see in fancy the flashing, blood-stained blades, and hear the hoarse battle-cry. I could even fancy my ancestral uncle himself, broad-shouldered and commanding in appearance as he needs must have been, standing, fire-balls in hand, on the scaling-ladder, grimy with powder, and with his face set toward the doomed city. There must have been something more than mere brute force in this great leather-clad ancestral uncle of mine with his flashing eyes and sturdy figure; for did he not control absolutely at one time all this region; conquer the all-conquering Spaniard; quell mutinies among his reckless followers with ease; lead them without food across the fever-stricken isthmus, travelling amid inconceivable obstacles ever onward until they were actually reduced to eating their leatherndoublets; then with this starved crew did he not besiege and capture the rich city of Panama? When a mutiny rose and some of his desperate followers threatened to desert him for a piratical cruise in one of the captured ships, Morgan, like Hernando Cortez, but with his own hand, chopped down the masts and rigging. Ah, there must have been a spirit in this man greater than a mere piratical thirst for blood. Then too, did not his sovereign, Charles II., bestow upon him subsequently the order of knighthood, make him Sir Henry Morgan, and place him as governor over the island of Jamaica? He died without descendants of his own, the honors bestowed upon him in the later days of his career are no longer remembered, and in the region he once dominated his name is used to frighten children with. He is now remembered only as a buccaneer, a name almost synonymous with “pirate;” a dauntless, reckless, blood-thirsty, unconquerable embodiment of energy and will, brooking no power near him save his own,—truly a leader of men, but exercising his leadership to no good purpose. Though he once controlled the Spanish main, we fail to see it recorded that he ever did good to any man.
Here was I now, two hundred years later, perhaps the sole surviving representative of his family, his sole heir, seeking to recover a treasure that he conquered, a treasure which I had already brought up from the depths of the sea, and which only waited to be possessed. I felt the old spirit of the dead Morgans fire my heart at the thought of the possible intervention of a crew of lawless pearl-fishers to snatch the prize from my grasp. The treasure was mine, doubly mine,—first by conquest of one to whom I was heir; and secondly by right of discovery and recovery from the sea. “No! by the Eternal, they shall not have it!” I cried,half aloud. “By the bones of my all-conquering ancestor, they shall never have an ounce of it, not so much as a glimpse of it!”
When it grew dark I resumed my progress toward Farm Cove, stealing along as cautiously as I could over the somewhat broken way. Every few steps I would pause and listen. It was dark as a pocket, and the cloudy sky was scarcely discernible. But still, by keeping the wind on my right cheek it was not difficult to preserve the proper direction, and I knew that however dark the night, the sea would be visible when I reached the cliffs, just as the sky was faintly distinguishable now through the black foliage above me.
It took me fully an hour to cover the comparatively short distance that remained, and it was not done without several falls on the way; but fortunately I made no great noise, though an occasional dry branch would break under foot with a sharp crack, which in the stillness sounded alarmingly loud to my tense senses. In due course, groping along, I came to the cliffs and could see the faint glimmer of the water through the foliage. Then as I parted some branches I caught sight of the red reflection of a fire on the leaves below, then the bright blaze of the fire itself, and a canvas tent which was lighted by it. Increased caution was now demanded. It would not do to step on a dry branch now, so at each step I felt cautiously with my foot that nothing might intervene between it and the ground. Fortunately I came out upon the path which led down the rocks into the little vale that lay, as I have previously described, like a bowl open on one side to the sea and nearly surrounded by the cliffs. Down this path I stole cautiously, and was half-way down before the intervening foliage would permit a fair view of the encampment.
And now I was almost near enough to hear the conversation that was going on among the people assembled there. Indeed, I could hear the hum of voices, but was unable to distinguish words. In the light of the bright fire I could see four men seated on the ground playing cards on a folded blanket. They were evidently gambling. One of the four was a yellow-skinned Chinaman, who sat facing me. Opposite him and with his back toward me was a great, burly negro, while the other two players were dark-skinned, black-haired native Indians or Caribbeans. The game was an animated one, and the players were completely absorbed in it. Near by the fire, seated on a fagot of wood, was a third Indian, his head bent forward and resting on his hands as he looked steadily into the fire. From where I was located I could not see into the tent, which consisted of a square of canvas thrown over a pole and stretched shed-fashion to the ground, with the opening toward the fire. But I could plainly see on the canvas the shadow of a person seated within the tent. On a limb near by hung distended the dressed carcass of a hog. I could just make out that some sort of a craft was moored at the mouth of the little stream.
I watched this scene for several minutes scarce daring to breathe. The three Indians, each carrying a long knife in his belt, were, I conjectured, the divers of the party; the Chinaman was doubtless the cook; and as for the negro, I could not determine approximately his place.
Suddenly the players fell to quarrelling, and one of the Indians, with an angry cry, sprang up and drew his knife. Instantly the whole party was on foot, and I fully expected from their excited manner and attitude to see blood shed. Just at this juncture the person in the tent—a man—came quickly out, with a drawn revolver in his hand, and sprang into the mêlée, cursing and shouting in a loud, deep voice of command for them to desist. He was a broad, compactly built fellow, of forty years or thereabouts, evidently possessed of great muscular strength; for he was able with his unoccupied hand to seize by the shoulder the Indian who had drawn the knife, and with one effort send him reeling backward almost to the ground.
“Caramba!” cried he, in guttural Spanish. “Dogs, stop this fighting, do you hear? If I find you at it again there shall be no more card-playing. Go to bed, or keep quiet, you quarrelsome scoundrels.”
The fight was over. All seemed alike to fear him, and when I saw his countenance in the firelight I could not wonder. It was a dark, powerful, and passionate face, framed in by a short black beard. Dark enough for a Spaniard, there was yet something in the countenance that made me think he was not of the Latin race; more likely a dark Englishman or an American. Perhaps his dress and general appearance contributed to this conclusion. He was the only white man in the party, and that he was master, or chief, did not admit of a doubt.
Now that I had seen this cut-throat-looking gang and their chief, my apprehension as to what they might attempt if they found us on the island and in possession of their pearl-fishing secret was by no means allayed. As to what would happen if they by any chance should discover the galleon, I felt only too certain.
Crouched down among the dark leafage by the side of the path I remained, a prey to many thoughts, for a quarter of an hour longer, and then stole cautiously back up the path to the high ground above, and began my return home through the darkness. When I hadput a considerable distance between me and the party I had left, I began to breathe more freely. In the murky darkness I more than once missed the way, and finally came out at a place where, though I could plainly hear the murmur of the waters of the creek below me, it was impossible to descend.
However, by travelling first in one direction and then in the other, I at last came upon the little gulley which I had before descended, and getting down was able to proceed with greater speed along the more familiar route. It was midnight when I at last reached the house and roused Mr. Millward and Alice to relate to them what I had seen.
As we were safe for that night at least, I proposed that we should go to bed again and get our rest, and discuss our situation in the morning.