The Cruise around the Bay.—A quaint and curious Town.—Sleepy Hollow.—A home-like Inn.—A genial and communicative Landlord.—A delicate Manipulation.—Aspotogon and Deep Cove.—Bart enters into an Argument.—The Landlord plunges into the Subject of Captain Kidd.—A wonderful Revelation.—The Treasure of the Seas at last.—The Island of golden Store.THE cruise around Mahone Bay had thus proved useless, as might have been expected. The search after one island out of hundreds, where the appearance, and even the name, of that island were unknown to them, was certainly an extraordinary piece of folly. Had they allowed themselves to make direct inquiries, they could have found the island without any trouble. But this was the very thing which they were unwilling to do; partly, as has been said, from the fear of drawing attention to their proceedings, and of being interrupted or interfered with in some way; but partly, no doubt, because they found a much greater charm in movements which were thus surrounded by mystery. It was appropriate for the members of the great secret society of the B. O. W. C. to enter upon this new undertaking in secrecy.
But now this had to be given up, and they concluded to go ashore at the chief settlement of the bay, and make inquiries. In these inquiries they resolved still to maintain their secret as far as possible, and not to divulge it unless it was absolutely necessary; they determined to hint, rather than ask, and obtain information indirectly, rather than directly.
The chief settlement of Mahone Bay is the town of Chester, one of the greatest curiosities in America. It is not a settlement. It is a town. It is situated on a peninsula, with a harbor on its front and on its rear. This peninsula is all laid out in streets, which cross one another at right angles, with perfect regularity. At the point where the peninsula terminates, is a spacious place, intended to serve as a promenade; and here there is a narrow shoal running off to another piece of land, which is a peninsula or an island by turns, as the shoal is covered or uncovered by the water.
There is a wonderful quaintness and quiet in Chester. It is the Nova Scotian representative of Sleepy Hollow. The streets, which are so nicely laid out, are all covered with turf, and are as green as the town lots on either side. The houses are all old; the people are all quiet and leisurely, taking the world in the easiest manner possible. The very dogs, affected by the peace and calm around, seem unwilling to bark, except under the strongest possible provocation.
The scenery around this quaint little town may safely be classed among the most beautiful in the world. The wide bay, with its hundreds of islands, forms an almost unequalled place for yachting. Many of the islands have curious names, associated with some curious legend. The waters abound with myriads of shell fish, and sometimes have a marvellous transparency. The winding shore of the bay forms one of the loveliest of drives, and affords perpetual variety of scenery; and the climate in summer time is so genial, that it forms the perfection of a watering-place for those who have to fly from the heat of southern latitudes. And this will one day be the destiny of Chester, when the world knows it; when the rush of parched travellers takes place; when great hotels face its promenade, and the streets, once laid out with so bold a design, are lined with houses and shops. Such changes will one day take place; but whether Chester will be then so altogether lovely as it is now in its Sleepy Hollow epoch, is a matter about which there may well be doubt.
Such was the place, then, in which the boys found themselves; and they all agreed with one opinion, that Chester was, in every respect, worthy of standing here in this lovely bay, in the immediate vicinity of the mysterious Island of the Buccaneers, where lay stored up the treasure of the sea and the plunder of the Spanish Main.
On looking about the place, they came to an inn, which had such an air of comfort and tranquillity, and such a home-like appearance, that they determined to put up at it, and prosecute their investigations in a leisurely fashion. They arrived in time for dinner; and, if there had been any doubt in their minds as to the propriety of deserting the Antelope, it was dispelled at the appearance of the dinner which was served up. For there were salmon and green peas,—delicacies of which, like all good boys, they were particularly fond, and to which they had been strangers for a long time. There, too, were strawberries, the last of the season, with cream of the richest kind; and together with these were the mealiest of potatoes, the whitest of bread, the freshest of butter, and the most immaculate coffee. To all these things their late sea fare afforded a striking contrast, and Solomon’s star declined sadly.
The landlord they found most good-natured, and most genial, like all the inhabitants of this favored spot. He was communicative about himself, proud of his town, proud of the scenery around, and yet not at all inquisitive as to the purposes of his guests. This seemed to them to be the very man whom they might interrogate without endangering their secret; for, while his communicativeness would lead him to tell everything that there was to be told, his lack of curiosity would prevent him from asking any unpleasant questions.
Accordingly, as soon as they could get a convenient chance, they button-holed the landlord, and began a series of questions of a very non-committal character, referring chiefly to the scenery of Mahone Bay, and the places most worthy of a visit. They did not make the remotest reference to the buccaneers or to Captain Kidd, but seemed to have their thoughts occupied with scenery only.
The landlord grew eloquent upon the theme of the scenery of Mahone Bay. He told them about the islands, and mentioned the number very particularly, insisting upon it that their number was exactly three hundred and sixty-five. He spoke of the drive along the shore, of a place called Gold River, where there was excellent fishing, and finally mentioned a place which he called Aspot-ogon. Upon this theme he grew more enthusiastic than ever. Aspotogon, he said, was the highest mountain on the Atlantic coast of Nova Scotia, and the approach to it afforded a view of the most remarkable scenery in the whole bay. This approach lay through a narrow inlet which ran to the base of the mountain, and was called Deep Cove. It was bordered by precipices, for a long way, on either side, and was a wild and romantic spot. It terminated in a circular basin, on one side of which was a deep declivity, by which they could find the shortest ascent to the summit of Aspotogon; and, in addition to this, they could find fishing and bathing to their hearts’ content.
In all this, however, there was no mention made of any island like the one which they wished to find. He mentioned, indeed, the names of several islands, in a casual sort of way, but made no allusion to any legends of the buccaneers. The only reference which he made to treasure, was on the name of that fishing stream which he had described to them. This was Gold River; and the name excited their attention. Bart asked what the name had reference to; and the landlord replied, that it arose from the color of its water. This commonplace derivation of such a name disgusted and disappointed them all, for they hoped to hear of a different origin, and one more in accordance with their present purpose.
The landlord dwelt to a great extent on Aspotogon and Deep Cove, and finally offered to go there with them, if they felt inclined to make a visit to the place. Though the boys were still as eager as ever about the Island of the Buccaneers, yet they were by no means indifferent to the charms of a romantic place like this, nor at all disinclined to roam about the bay farther. The offer of the landlord was also an additional inducement, and they thought that in the intimacy of shipboard they might manage to get something more direct out of him, and learn from him all that there was to be learnt about any existing legends current among the people, such as the governor of Sable Island had mentioned. It was arranged, therefore, that they should go on the following day.
After dinner the boys started off in different directions. Bruce in a boat, Arthur along the shore, Tom and Phil over the hills, while Bart and Pat sauntered about the wharves, catching star-fish, sea-urchins, and jelly-fish, of which there were myriads. Towards evening they returned to the inn, and found the landlord seated on the steps. They seated themselves too, and gradually fell into a conversation.
“This bay must have been a great place in old times,” said Bart, trying to feel his way as easily as possible towards the subject of the buccaneers.
The landlord shook his head with solemn emphasis.
“Tre—mendous!” he slowly ejaculated.
“Such a capital place for hiding from any ship that might be chasing!” said Bart; “so many islands! Why, if a ship once got in here, she could never be found.”
“Best dodging-place in the world,” said the landlord. “Lots of islands, lots of harbors, and deep water too, everywhere.”
“The old French day’s must have been pretty exciting hereabouts,” continued Bart, making a fresh advance. “The English and French used to have it hot and heavy; and I dare say this bay had its share of the fun.”
“Of course, of course,” said the landlord; “and before that too, long before; and worse goings on than fair, stand-up fights. There’s been queer doings in these waters.”
To these words the landlord gave emphasis by a significant shake of his head, which spoke unutterable things, and drove Bart and Pat wild with curiosity.
“What do you mean?” asked Bart.
The landlord looked at him solemnly for a few moments, and then asked,—
“Did you ever happen to hear of Captain Kidd?”
“Captain Kidd?” repeated Bart, in innocent wonder, “Captain Kidd? Hear of him? Of course I’ve heard of him. Everybody knows about him.”
“Well, if that man’s ghost don’t haunt this bay, then I’m a nigger.”
“Haunt this bay? What do you mean? What had Captain Kidd to do with this bay? He was hanged at London.”
“He had a precious lot to do with this bay,” said the landlord, positively.
“Why, I don’t see how that could be,” said Bart, trying to get the landlord excited by contradiction. “I don’t see how he ever could have been here. His story’s a simple enough one; soon told. I’ve heard it often. How he went from New York to London well recommended, and got a commission from the British government to command a ship, for the purpose of putting down pirates in India and the East. But this didn’t suit him quite; so he turned pirate himself. Most of his piracies took place in the East, though. It’s true he returned to America, and made a great panic; but he was captured and sent to England, where he was tried and executed. That was in 1699. I remember the date very well. So I don’t see how he could have done much about here.”
Bart spoke very volubly, and seemed to have the Life of Captain Kidd at his tongue’s end. The landlord listened very attentively. But Bart’s words, instead of shaking his own convictions, only served, as Bart had hoped and intended, to strengthen and confirm them. As Bart spoke, he raised himself up out of the lounging attitude in which he had been sitting, looked full in Bart’s face, and as he ceased,—
“Very well. Grant all that,” said the landlord, with a comprehensive sweep of his hand, which seemed to concede every single statement that Bart had made, in the fullest and frankest manner. “Grant—all—that—every word of it. I don’t doubt it at all—not me. Very well. Now mark me. Captain Kidd did really, and truly, and actually, flourish about here, in this here bay—for he’s left behind him the most—un—mis—tak—able in—di—ca—tions. I’ve seen ’em myself, with my own eyes. I’ve handled ‘em myself, and with my own hands. And besides, that there pirate must have been about over the coast of America a good deal more than you give him credit for, or he wouldn’t have left a name behind, from one end of America to the other; and, at any rate, he must have been here, or else he wouldn’t have left behind what he has left, and what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”
“I didn’t know,” said Bart, “that he had left any traces of himself here. What are they? What kind of traces?”
“What kind of traces?” said the landlord. “Traces that beat everything in the way of traces that any pirate ever made. What do you say, for instance, to a pit so deep that nobody’s ever been able to get to the bottom of it?”
“A pit? What sort of a pit?” asked Bart, full of excitement.
“What do you say to his filling that pit with oaken chests, crammed full of gold and silver ingots, and gold candlesticks, plundered from Catholic churches, and precious stones, such as diamonds, rubies, and emeralds—beyond all counting?”
“Gold! silver! precious stones!” repeated Bart, who was so overcome by this astounding information, that he could only utter these words.
“What do you say to his taking the prisoners that had dug his hole, and filled it, and killing them all, to keep his secret?”
“Killing his prisoners!”
“What do you say,” continued the landlord, enjoying with keenest relish the evident excitement of Bart,—“what do you say to his contriving the most extraordinary plans ever heard of to prevent anybody ever getting at that treasure,—by making the hole, in the first place, far down under the level of the sea,—by building a drain, so as to let in the sea water; and then, after killing the prisoners, filling up the hole to the very top? What do you say to all that?”.
“Why, I never heard of this in all my life! How do you know it? Tell me, now. Tell me all about it. Where is the place? Is it here—in this bay?”
“Of course it is. I’ve said as much,” replied the landlord.
“But you didn’t mention it this morning.”
“No, because you only wanted to hear about fine scenery. This place isn’t particularly remarkable for that. It’s a little island, not more than three miles from here, up that way to the right. It’s called Oak Island, because Captain Kidd planted it with acorns, so as to know it when he came back. Well, since his day, the acorns have grown to be oaks—some of them pretty big—though being near the sea, they haven’t grown so big as they would have done if they had been planted farther inland.”
“Oak Island!” repeated Bart, in a tone which expressed the most profound interest,—“Oak Island!”
“That’s the place,” said the landlord. “I wonder you ain’t heard of Oak Island before.”
“Never,” said Bart; “that is, I’ve heard the name mentioned; but never knew that Captain Kidd had anything to do with it.”
“That’s just what he had,” said the landlord. “Everybody in these parts can tell you all about it. People have been full of it ever since Chester was settled. I’ve heard it all my life.”
“But if there’s money there, why don’t they get it?” asked Bart.
“Because they can’t!”
“Can’t?”
“No, can’t. Captain Kidd knowed what he was about, and he made his arrangements so that, from that day to this, nobody’s ever been able to get down to the bottom of that money-hole, and, in my humble opinion, never will.”
“Why not? I don’t understand.”
“Well,” said the landlord, “it’s a long story; but as I’ve got nothing to do just now, I don’t mind telling you about it.”
So saying, the landlord settled himself into an easy, lounging attitude, and began the story of Oak Island.
The wonderful Story of Oak Island.—The Circle in the Forest.—Digging for Gold.—Exciting Discoveries.—Far down in the Depths of the Earth.—The Treasure touched at last.—The Treasure snatched away.—A new Search, and its Results.—Boring through the Chest of Gold.—A Company.—A new Pit made.—The Drain.—New Efforts.—The Coffer Dam.—New Companies.—Captain Kidd too much for them.
||I BELIEVE.” said the landlord, “there’s always been a talk, among the people around here, that Captain Kidd used this place as a kind of headquarters; and this idea seems to me to have come down from old settlers who might have been here in his own day,—French and others,—though Chester wasn’t actually settled till long after his time. At any rate, there it was, and everybody used always to believe that Captain Kidd hid his money somewhere in this bay. Well, nothing very particular happened till some sixty years ago, when a man, on visiting Oak Island, just by chance saw something which seemed to him very curious.
“The island was overgrown with oaks and other trees intermixed. Now, right in the midst of these trees, he came to a queer-looking place. It was circular, and about fifteen feet in diameter. Trees grew all around it. Just on this circular spot, however, nothing grew at all, not even moss or ferns. It looked as if it had been cursed, or blasted. The trees were all around it—some oak and some maple; but among them was one,—pine or spruce, I don’t know which,—and this one looked a good deal older than the others. One of the boughs of this old pine tree projected right over the blasted circular spot in a very singular fashion, and on this the man noticed something that looked like very queer growth for a pine tree. He climbed up, and found that it was a pulley, which was so rotten that it might have been hanging there a hundred years. It was fastened to the bough by a chain, and this was so rusty that it broke in his hands. This pulley and rusty chain the man removed and took with him.
“Of course, as you may imagine, he was a good deal struck by the appearance of things. He had always heard that Captain Kidd had once frequented Mahone Bay, and had buried treasure somewhere about; and here he had discovered this blasted spot with a pulley over it, in the very midst of the woods on a lonely island—a place that looked as though no one had ever been there but himself since that pulley was last used. Of course he asked himself what the meaning of all this was; and to him it seemed most likely that the circular space marked some pit in the ground, and that the pulley had been used to lower things down into this pit.
“Well, he went home, and didn’t say anything about it to a living soul, except his son, a young man, whom he wanted to help him. He determined to examine deeper, and after talking it over with his son, he was more determined than ever. So the very next day they began their preparations, taking over picks, and spades, and ropes, and provisions, and everything that could be needed for their purpose.
“They went to work and dug away for a little distance, when they came to something hard. It was a stone hewn,—not very smooth,—a kind of sandstone, and on this they saw some marks that looked like strange letters. They were ignorant men, but they knew the alphabet, and they knew that this was no kind of English letters at all; but it seemed to them that they might be letters of some strange alphabet. They took this stone away, and it’s been preserved ever since, and it’s there yet on the island, built into the wall of a cottage there for safe keeping. I’ve seen it myself dozens of times. That’s what I mean when I say I’ve seen the traces of Captain Kidd, for it’s my solemn conviction that he cut that inscription on the stone in some foreign letters, or perhaps in some secret cipher.
“After taking out that stone, they went on digging harder than ever, and about two feet down they came to a sort of wooden flooring. The wood was in good preservation, and consisted of large logs, a dozen feet long, laid across side by side, and rough-hewed about six inches square. They thought that they had come to the money-hole now, for sure, and pulled up the logs quick enough, you’d better believe; but they didn’t know what was before them. After taking up the beams, they found they had to dig deeper; and so they went on digging away deeper and deeper. It took a long time, for they had to stay up the earth as they dug down, to prevent it from falling in, and they soon found that the job was a bigger one than they had bargained for; but what they had already found excited them, and cheered them on day after day.
“Of course they couldn’t do this all in one day. One day’s work couldn’t take them far into that hole, though they worked like beavers. Well, they dug on this way, and at last, about five or six feet farther down,—some say ten; but it don’t make any difference,—they found another flooring just like the first, only the logs were smaller. These they took up, and then went on digging as before, day after day. They now found bits of things that looked favorable; they found cocoa husks, and West India grass, and bits of cane, all of which showed that the people who worked here must have had something to do with the West Indies and the Spanish Main. These things never grew in Nova Scotia. They had been brought here by the men that made the hole, and had got mixed up with the earth that they shovelled in. They also found shavings or chips made with tools. Well, about the same distance down that the second flooring had been from the first, they found a third flooring, which was just like the second.
“At this third flooring there was a fresh disappointment, just as there had been at the other two; but the very fact that there was this flooring encouraged them to go on, and so they continued to dig. After a time they came to another flooring, and continuing on, they came to another, and yet another; and at every place they had the same disappointment and encouragement. All the way they found the same signs, that the soil had once been turned up by people who had dealings with the Spanish Main, for the cocoa-nut husks and the West India grasses were mixed with the soil all the way. All the time they had to keep staying up the sides, and the deeper they went, the more careful they had to be, for the soil seemed loose and dangerous just here.
“Well, they worked this way for about three months, and at last had got ever so far down—I have heard some say that they got down as much as a hundred feet, and that would be about seventy feet below the level of the sea at low tide, for the island is only a small one, and doesn’t rise more than twenty-five feet at the highest point. All the way down they had found the signs continuing, showing that diggers had been here before, and that the soil had been turned up. This it was that led them on to such a depth.
“Well, now it was down at this depth that they touched the treasure. It was evening, and quite dark down there. They had been digging all day, and were about to just knock off. The son, before going, took his crowbar, and drove it with all his might into the ground. It was soft, loose, and gravelly just here, and the iron sank for about a foot into the soil, and struck something hard. Their attention was attracted by this at once, and they tried it again and again. Each time it struck something hard. It seemed like wood. At one or two places it seemed like metal. They tried this a good many times, until at length they became convinced that this was a wooden box with iron hoops or fastenings, and that this box contained the treasure for which they were searching. But by this time it was too late to do any more. To get at that chest would require a good day’s work. To hoist it up would not be possible. They saw that they would have to break or cut into it as it lay, and empty it of its contents. They were also worn out with their long day’s work, and in addition to this, they did not feel comfortable down in that particular place after dark. So, for all these reasons, they concluded to postpone the completion of their work till the following day. After all, there was no reason why they shouldn’t. No one could come and take it. It would be there unmoved till they might want to remove it themselves. And so the long and the short of it is, they went up, and went off to sleep in the hut where they lived.
“That night they slept soundly, and waked a little later than usual on the following day. They at once rushed to the money-hole; they did this the moment they waked, without waiting for breakfast, or taking anything to eat. They both felt anxious, for everything was at stake, and the sleep of both, though sound, had been marked by unpleasant and harassing dreams.
“Well, they reached the place, and there an awful sight met them—a sight that meant ruination to their hopes, and to all the hard work that they’d put forth in that place. The hole was gone; the earth had all fallen in; the stays had all given way: and there was nothing there now but a basin-shaped hollow, and bits of board projecting. What was worse, it was all mixed with water, and so soft, that in attempting to walk into it, they sank up to their knees in the mud. And that was the end of this first digging after Kidd’s treasure; for though they tried to dig again, they found it impossible on account of the water. It seemed to come straight from the sea, and they couldn’t do anything at all. So they had to give up at last, and go home.
“Now, some people think that the staying wasn’t strong enough, and the sides caved in on that account; others, again, talk about Kidd’s ghost baffling these diggers; but, from what was discovered afterwards, I feel perfectly sure that they themselves somehow let in the water of the sea into the hole by a drain or channel underground that Kidd himself had made. I think those knocks on the chest with the crowbar loosened some stopper, and the water poured in at once. It was this rush of sea water that destroyed everything, and made the hole cave in altogether. As to the drain, that was a contrivance of Kidd’s to prevent the treasure from being dug up by outsiders. He had it made underground from the shore of the island at low-water mark to the bottom of the money-hole. He himself, or any one in the secret, would know how to dig and get the treasure; but any one who didn’t know the secret would be sure to do something that would let in the sea water. And that’s just what these first diggers did.
“Well, after this nothing was done for a long time. These two, father and son, went home, and for a while they kept the whole business a secret; but after some years the old man died, and the son married, and so the whole story leaked out, till everybody knew all about it. Everybody went then to see the place, and the story soon got to be as well known as the alphabet all over the bay; and I won’t swear but that some additions were made to the story as it passed from mouth to mouth, for that would only be natural, after all; but at any rate, that story lived, and people didn’t forget the treasure on Oak Island. And so time passed, and the son died at last, and the grandson grew up, and this one thought that he would make a dash at the treasure. This was as much as forty years after the first digging. He went with a few friends, and they tried to dig, but couldn’t. The money-hole remained as it had been left by the first diggers,—all sand, and gravel, and water,—more like a quicksand than anything else. They put a pump in it, and set it to work, but couldn’t do anything that way. So they gave it up.
“Well, these operations got known everywhere, and the whole story came up again. A lot of men formed themselves into a company, the grandson was one of them. They bought the island, and resolved to go to work on a grand scale. They rigged a pump which was worked by a horse in a very peculiar fashion, and had a hoisting apparatus worked by another horse to lift up the dirt. They got a lot of wood on the place for stayings to the hole, and went to work. Before they began, they bored down for a hundred and twenty feet. On taking out the auger, they saw on the lowest part scraps of wood, then bright scrapings that looked like gold, then wood again. And this showed that the auger had gone clean through the chest, and had brought back signs of the chest itself, and of the treasure inside. This created the greatest excitement, and the company went to work as eagerly and as industriously as the original diggers. Well, they kept at it, and dug, and hoisted, and pumped for a whole summer; but it was no go. As fast as they pumped, the water poured in, and faster too; and in fact, they couldn’t make the slightest impression on the water in the money-hole, do what they would. So they gave up.
“Well, after this, another company started. The new company bought out from the old all its rights, and started on a new plan. Many of the old company belonged to the new one, and these had learned by experience the impossibility of doing anything by digging in the money-hole itself. The new plan consisted in digging a new hole altogether. In the operations of the old company they had discovered that though the money-hole was all sand and gravel, yet all around it the soil was a hard blue clay, quite impervious to water, and very easy to work in. They thought by digging alongside the money-hole, as near as the clay would allow, they might go down to the same depth, and then tunnel along at the bottom till they reached the treasure chest. So they went to work about thirty feet away from the money-hole, digging in the clay. They had no trouble in digging. The soil was free from stones, firm clay, impervious to water, and they made first-rate progress to a certain extent. They got down about a hundred feet, and then ventured to tunnel towards the money-hole. They worked very carefully, for it was rather dangerous, as they were under the level of the sea, and were therefore exposed to a rush of water at any false movement that they might make. But in spite of all their care, they failed at last; for one day they went up to dinner, and on going back again, they found the new hole filled with water to within thirty feet or so of the top. It was a sore disappointment, and they could only console themselves by the thought that they had been so fortunate as to have left the hole at that particular time. They tried to pump out the water, and made some faint efforts to continue their work, but it was no use. The failure had been too great, and this attempt broke down.
“Well, they now concluded that there was a drain, the same one I spoke of a while ago,—reaching from the shore of the island at low-water mark, or beneath it, down to the bottom of the money-hole, and that they had somehow broken into this drain, the waters of which had poured into the new hole, and flooded it. This discovery created fresh excitement: and as this company gave up, a new one was formed, which bought out all previous rights, and on the following summer proceeded to make a fresh attempt. Each one of these companies which had been bought out still retained, however, a claim on the profits that might be made; sometimes twenty per cent, and sometimes ten per cent, of the treasure. The new company, even if it had succeeded, could only have received about one fifth, or perhaps one fourth, of the treasure, the rest being all forfeited, or mortgaged, so to speak, to the old companies. Still the new company had many members who belonged to the old companies, and who still stuck to the enterprise through thick and thin, so that their undertaking, under such circumstances, is not so surprising, after all.
“This new company, using the experience and discoveries of the preceding ones, went on a new principle. The idea now was, that, first of all, the drain should be discovered, and the supply of water intercepted. If this were done, they would be able to get to the bottom of the original money-hole itself without any trouble. So they set to work, and explored the whole shore of the island. They found one place where at low tide there was a great bubbling in the water, and this they took for the place where the drain began. Here they built a coffer dam, and then tried to find the drain itself. On the shore they met with no success; so they dug pits at intervals along a line stretching from the coffer dam to the money-hole. The soil in all these places consisted of that same tenacious blue clay which I have already mentioned. I don’t know how many of these were dug, but there were several, at any rate. Now, whenever they attempted to strike the drain, the water was invariably too much for them, and rushed in, giving them nothing to do but to fly as fast as they could. In other places they were afraid to venture too near the drain. The end of it was, that this last company was as unsuccessful as the others, though it had spent ten times as much as any of them.”
The Toilers of the Sea.—New Efforts to find the Plunder of the Spanish Main.—Modern Science versus Captain Kidd.—The Landlord’s Faith.—Scoffers and Mockers at the Money-hole.—Objections considered.—The Timber Floorings.—The Stone, with its mysterious Inscription.—The Gravel pit, with its Surroundings of blue Clay.—The Drain from the Sea to the Money-hole.
||SO, you see,” said the landlord, “how all these efforts to get at the treasure have failed; and it is not difficult to see the reason, either. For, you see, as I have already said, the money-hole has been all filled in with sand and gravel, and there is a drain, or channel, connecting with the sea, which lets in the sea water; so, the moment any one undertakes to touch the money-hole, he has to contend with the sea itself, and there hasn’t, thus far, been force enough put forth there to do that. The money-hole is something peculiar. All around it the soil is this blue clay. No doubt the soil where this was first dug was blue clay also; but, after burying the treasure, Kidd, for his own crafty purposes, filled it up with this gravel. No doubt his idea was, that the sea water should affect it the more thoroughly, and make it like a great quicksand. The pumps they set up there did no more good than if they were so many toys.
“Well, the failure of the last company has been followed by a pause, partly on account of discouragement, but still more from the determination, on the part of a few, to begin again on a grand scale; on a scale, indeed, so grand, that it will take some time to make all the preparations. Some of the leaders in the previous undertakings are at the head of this new movement, and have already done very much towards putting it into life and action. This new plan is to get up a regular joint stock company, with a thousand shares, each worth a hundred dollars, or thereabouts. It will be a regular company; the shares will be sold in the market, and the stockholdors will stand in the same relation to this business as they would to a coal mine, or any other ordinary undertaking. They’ll have a president, a board of directors, and a superintendent of the mining works. It is proposed to employ a regular engineer to survey the ground, and design the best mode of going to work; to put up a steam engine of sufficient power to pump out the money-hole, and keep a large force of men at work, night and day, in separate detachments. The idea is, to do it up as fast as possible, and get at it once for all, or fail utterly.
“Now, this company is already started, and about a quarter of the stock has been taken up. I shouldn’t be surprised to see them set to work next year, or the year after, at the farthest. The thing is bound to go on. Besides those who believe that the treasure is here, there are ever so many who wish to see the mystery cleared op, irrespective of any treasure. These men are going into the new company almost as extensively as those who believe in the money. Then, again, there are ever so many people about the country who have heard about it for the first time, and are taking shares just as they would buy tickets in a lottery; not because they expect to make anything, exactly, but because they are willing to run the risk, and take their chance.
“This sort of thing, of course, has a far different prospect from what the old companies had. It puts the whole plan on a different footing. It makes it, in fact, a thoroughly legitimate business, and sets on as sound a basis as if it was an iron or coal mining company. A real, practical engineer—a man who is a practical geologist also—could tell more about Oak Island in one walk round it, than the other workers found out in years. He could find out the real place where the sea water enters; whether there is one only, or more than one. When once that is found out, and stopped, the rest is easy. But, if they can’t stop it, why, then, let the steam pump go to work, and I don’t think the money-hole would be flooded much longer. Then, again, the plan of having two gangs to work night and day, so as to have no stoppage in the operations, will be a most important thing. And so, what with modern science, and steam, and continuous work of large gangs, oven old Kidd himself ’ll find his match.
“The fact is the gold is there—the treasure of Captain Kidd—brought here by him, and buried in that hole. I no more doubt that than I doubt my own existence. If that hole had never been touched, and people went to work now at the fresh ground, I believe the treasure would be got at. Why, the first diggers almost got it, though there were only two of them. The gold is there—there’s not the slightest doubt of that—a treasure beyond all estimate—worth millions on millions, no doubt—gold and silver ingots—the plunder of Spanish cathedrals and Spanish galleons—diamonds and rubies—and all that. Millions? Why, it’s equal in value to the revenue of a great nation. There it is; and all it wants is for people to go to work in the right way; not in a pettifogging, mean, peddling fashion, but in a large-handed, bold, vigorous way. That’s the thing that ’ll fetch up the plunder of the Spanish Main! I’ve sometimes heard people say that there was once a great confederacy of pirates that made this buy their headquarters, and that Captain Kidd was the last and greatest of the brotherhood. Until his time the plunder had been kept in a safe place, but in a place where it could be got at; but that he, being the last of the brotherhood, determined to fix up some safer place, and so he arranged this place—the hole and the drain; and if that’s so, we have here not merely the plunder of Captain Kidd himself, but of all the pirates, for no one knows how long a time—centuries, I dare say.”
To all this extraordinary story the boys had listened with the deepest attention. The landlord’s announcement of his own belief in it was to them very impressive, and his extravagant conclusion did not seem at all extravagant to them. It jibed perfectly with what they had heard from the governor of Sable Island. They were most profoundly impressed, and the treasure island seemed to them more attractive than ever. The landlord’s mind seemed to be filled with a vision of inconceivable treasure, and by long familiarity with the thought, it seemed quite natural to him to speak so glibly about gold, and silver, and precious stones, and all the rest that went to make up the plunder of the Spanish Main.
Bart and Pat were not critical; none of the boys were. This remark has already been made in connection with the story of the governor of Sable Inland. Had they been critical, they could have picked various holes in this narrative, and asked questions to which it would have been difficult for the landlord, or any other believer in Kidd’s treasure, to give any sufficient answer. They might have asked how it was that the tradition about the early diggers had been so minute, and why it was that no competent scholar or archeologist had been found who might decipher the inscription on the stone. They might have asked how it was that the so-called “drain” had been discovered, and also how it was that Kidd’s so-called “place” was known so accurately. But they were not at all critically inclined, and the questions which they did ask were of a totally different kind.
They did ask questions, of course; and the questions referred to the chief points in the landlord’s story. They had much to ask about the first discovery, the size of the island, the appearance of the blasted circular spot, of the tree and the projecting bough; about the pulley and its chain; about the log floorings, their number, their distance apart, and their probable use in a money-hole; about the West Indian grass, the cocoa-nut husks, and the sugar-cane, which were the signs of some connection with the Spanish Main; about the shavings and chips of wood; about the gravelly soil, contrasting with the blue clay around it; about the eventful moment when the first diggers touched the money-box with the crowbar, and the destruction of their work during the night. They asked also, very minutely, about the stone with the inscription, its kind and its size, and why it should have been inserted into the chimney of a hut; about the drain, its size, and whether it was built of wood, or brick, or stone; and about the nature of the signs brought up by the anger when they bored through the money-box.
All these questions showed how close had been the attention with which they had listened. To every one of them, without exception, the land-lord responded in the most unhesitating and the most comprehensive manner. It was evident that he had turned over every point in his mind that they now suggested; that he was familiar with every objection, and was armed and equipped at all points with facts and arguments to sustain his theory.
That there were plenty of objections to that theory became evident from the landlord’s own very frequent allusions to them, and it seemed, by the way in which he spoke of them, as though he himself had often and often done battle with scornful or sceptical opponents.
“For my own part,” said the landlord, “I don’t think much of any of these objections. Objections are easy enough to make. You can make them to anything you like—or don’t like. The truest things in the world meet with lots of unbelievers, who offer objections. Now, I know this whole story to be true, and I don’t value the objections a rush.
“Ono objection, for instance, is, that the story of the first diggers had been exaggerated in every particular. In passing from mouth to mouth, they say, each one has added to it, and that all the little circumstances that I have mentioned have been either thrown in to make up a story, or colored so as to favor a belief in the money-hole. Now, as to that, all I can say is, that the two men always told a straight story, without any additions, and the younger one lived down to my time, and so could easily be referred to by any ono. He always made the same statement.
“A great objection is, that two men could never have dug down so far, and stayed up the sides of the pit, as the story said they did. It has been asserted that they couldn’t have dug down more than twenty or thirty feet, and that they probably got down that far when they came to the water, which prevented them from going any farther. To which I answer, not only that two men could have dug a hundred feet, but that they have done so, over and over, on the same ground, for in the holes made since, it isn’t possible for more than two to work at the same time. The shafts are only about six feet long by three wide, and in that space there isn’t room for more than two, of course.
“When I find some who don’t believe in Kidd’s treasure, and ask them what could have been there, they make various answers; but the favorite one is, that it was some sort of a signal-station. But, unfortunately, Oak Inland it the last place about here that one could think of for such a purpose as that. Still, that is what they urge, and they say that the timber floorings were probably intended as a foundation. When I ask them why there were so many timber floorings, they quietly deny the fact They say that there might have been one or two such floorings, to the depth of perhaps ten feet, or so, but won’t believe any more. When I point to the testimony of the surviving one of the first diggers, they deny the value of it, and say that it is only the exaggeration of an old man, who has been telling the same tall story for years, till it has grown to its present dimensions. And when people choose to argue in that style, and reject the best sort of evidence that there can be, why, of course, thero’s no end of all discussion. They set out with a blind prejudice, deny plain facts, or explain them away in the most fanciful manner, and then turn round and ridicule those who believe in what is as plain as day.”
The landlord was silent for a moment, overcome by a kind of mild indignation at the sceptic of whom he spoke, after which he proceeded.
“Then there’s that stone with the mysterious inscription. It’s been seen by hundreds. No one has ever been found yet who can make out what it means. As I said before, it is either some foreign language, or else, as is quite probable, it is some secret cipher, known only to Kidd himself—perhaps used by the great pirate confederacy. It shows, more than anything else, that this hole was dug by Captain Kidd, and that his treasure is there. Now, how do you suppose they get over that?”
And with this question the landlord looked earnestly and solemnly at the two boys.
The two boys couldn’t imagine how anybody could get over it; though Bart could not help wondering a little how it came that, if the inscription could not be deciphered, the landlord should nevertheless know so well that it referred to Captain Kidd.
“I’ll tell you,” said the landlord, “the way they get over it. They have the impudence to say that it isn’t an inscription at all. Actually, because no one can decipher it, they say it ain’t an inscription. They say it’s only some accidental scratches! Now, I allow,” continued the landlord, “that the marks are rather faint, and irregular; but how any man can look at them, and say that they’re not an inscription—how any man can look at them and say that they’re accidental scratches—is a thing that makes me fairly dumb with amazement.”
“Well, then there are other things, too,” continued the landlord, “which they handle in the same manner. One of the strangest things about this whole story is the fact that the soil in the money-hole is different from that of the rest of the island, being sand and gravel; whereas the rest of the island, as I told you, is blue clay. It’s just as if a hole was dug in the blue clay, and then filled in with sand and gravel brought from somewhere else. Well, how do you think they got over this?”
Again the landlord looked inquiringly at the two buys.
Again the two hoys gave it up.
“Why,” said the landlord, “they get over it in the usual fashion. They say it isn’t a fact that the island is blue clay, but that there’s streaks and patches of gravel all over it, and the two men hit upon a place where the soil was sandy and gravelly. That’s the way they get over that point; and I’d like to ask any man if that’s fair; if that’s honest; if that’s decent. Yet that’s the way they talk—when they can go to the island, and see wherever fresh boles have been dug, the blue clay is turned up. But when I point out that, they say, ‘O, that’s because the holes are all dug on that one side of the island where the blue clay is.’
“Then, again, there’s the drain,” continued the landlord. “Now, if any one thing is an established foot, next to the buried money—it’s Kidd’s drain. It’s been broken into time after time. It’s flooded hole after hole. Yet, in the face of this, they say that there isn’t any drain at all; that there’s merely some loose soil on the island, or some subterranean passage, made by nature, through which the sea water passes, and that the bottom of the so-called money-hole has been connected with this. Some say, that as the island is small, the sea water trickles through the soil, in some places, all the way across. So, of course, these men, shutting their eyes obstinately to hard facts, laugh at the very idea of a drain. And that’s the sort of objections that we have to meet!” concluded the landlord, with a snort of contempt.
“Is any one working on Oak Island now,” asked Bart, after a pause.
“Well, no, not just now. There isn’t a soul on the island. Since the last company gave up, no one has touched the works—except, occasionally, some visitors. Everything is standing there—the pumps, the hoisting tackle, and all that. You’ll see the holes all about; and the money-hole can easily be known, for it is a hollow in the ground, shaped like a bowl, close by the largest pump, with a deep hole beside it, full of water; for, unfortunately, they struck the drain too soon, and of course the water rushed upon them.”
At this point the landlord recollected some business that he had to attend to, and rising to his feet, he slowly sauntered away.