the countenance of his master wore an air of extreme disappointment. He
urged us, however, to continue our exertions, and the words were hardly
uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught the toe of my
boot in a large ring of iron that lay half buried in the loose earth.
We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more
intense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed
an oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and
wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing
process—perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was three
feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half feet deep.
It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted, and forming a
kind of trellis-work over the whole. On each side of the chest, near
the top, were three rings of iron—six in all—by means of which a firm
hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost united endeavors
served only to disturb the coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once
saw the impossibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole
fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we drew
back—trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of
incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of the lanterns
fell within the pit, there flashed upwards, from a confused heap of
gold and of jewels, a glow and a glare that absolutely dazzled our eyes.
I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed.
Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted
with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter’s countenance
wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in
the nature of things, for any negro’s visage to assume. He seemed
stupefied—thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in the
pit, and, burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let them
there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, with a
deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy:
“And dis all cum ob de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! de poor little
goole-bug, what I boosed in dat sabage kind ob style! Aint you shamed
ob yourself, nigger?—answer me dat!”
It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and
valet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing late,
and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get everything
housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what should be done,
and much time was spent in deliberation—so confused were the ideas
of all. We finally lightened the box by removing two-thirds of its
contents, when we were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it from
the hole. The articles taken out were deposited among the brambles, and
the dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither,
upon any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth until
our return. We then hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching
the hut in safety, but after excessive toil, at one o’clock in the
morning. Worn out as we were, it was not in human nature to do more
just now. We rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills
immediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which by good
luck were upon the premises. A little before four we arrived at the
pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as might be, among
us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, at
which, for the second time, we deposited our golden burdens, just as
the first streaks of the dawn gleamed from over the tree-tops in the
East.
We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of the
time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three or four
hours’ duration, we arose, as if by pre-concert, to make examination of
our treasure.
The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, and
the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its contents.
There had been nothing like order or arrangement. Everything had
been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with care, we
found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at first
supposed. In coin there was rather more than four hundred and fifty
thousand dollars: estimating the value of the pieces, as accurately
as we could, by the tables of the period. There was not a particle
of silver. All was gold of antique date and of great variety:
French, Spanish, and German money, with a few English guineas, and
some counters, of which we had never seen specimens before. There
were several very large and heavy coins, so worn that we could make
nothing of their inscriptions. There was no American money. The value
of the jewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There were
diamonds—some of them exceedingly large and fine—a hundred and ten
in all, and not one of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable
brilliancy; three hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and
twenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken
from their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings
themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, appeared
to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent identification.
Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments:
nearly two hundred massive finger and ear rings; rich chains—thirty
of these, if I remember; eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes;
five gold censers of great value; a prodigious golden punch-bowl,
ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures;
with two sword handles exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller
articles which I cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables
exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in this
estimate I have not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb gold
watches; three of the number being worth each five hundred dollars, if
one. Many of them were very old, and as time-keepers valueless, the
works having suffered more or less from corrosion; but all were richly
jewelled and in cases of great worth. We estimated the entire contents
of the chest, that night, at a million and a half of dollars; and,
upon the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being
retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly undervalued
the treasure.
When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense
excitement of the time had in some measure subsided, Legrand,
who saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this
most extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the
circumstances connected with it.
“You remember,” said he, “the night when I handed you the rough sketch
I had made of the _scarabæus_. You recollect also, that I became quite
vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled a death’s-head.
When you first made this assertion I thought you were jesting; but
afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back of the
insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had some little
foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic powers irritated
me—for I am considered a good artist—and, therefore, when you handed
me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw it
angrily into the fire.”
“The scrap of paper, you mean,” said I.
“No: it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I supposed
it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it,
at once, to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was quite dirty,
you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my
glance fell upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you
may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, in fact, the figure of
a death’s-head just where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing of
the beetle. For a moment I was too much amazed to think with accuracy.
I knew that my design was very different in detail from this—although
there was a certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took
a candle and, seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded
to scrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I
saw my own sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first
idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity
of outline—at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that,
unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon the other side
of the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the _scarabæus_,
and that this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should so
closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidence
absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual effect of such
coincidences. The mind struggles to establish a connection—a sequence
of cause and effect—and, being unable to do so, suffers a species of
temporary paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, there
dawned upon me gradually a conviction which startled me even far more
than the coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remember that
there had been _no_ drawing on the parchment when I made my sketch of
the _scarabæus_. I became perfectly certain of this; for I recollected
turning up first one side and then the other, in search of the cleanest
spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I could not have failed
to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible
to explain; but, even at that early moment, there seemed to glimmer,
faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers of my intellect,
a glowworm-like conception of that truth which last night’s adventure
brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I arose at once, and,
putting the parchment securely away, dismissed all farther reflection
until I should be alone.
“When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook myself
to a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the first place
I considered the manner in which the parchment had come into my
possession. The spot where we discovered the _scarabæus_ was on the
coast of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the island, and but a
short distance above high-water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, it
gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupiter, with his
accustomed caution, before seizing the insect, which had flown towards
him, looked about him for a leaf, or something of that nature, by which
to take hold of it. It was at this moment that his eyes, and mine also,
fell upon the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to be paper.
It was lying half buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the
spot where we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what
appeared to have been a ship’s long boat. The wreck seemed to have been
there for a very great while; for the resemblance to boat timbers could
scarcely be traced.
“Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, and
gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on the way met
Lieutenant G——. I showed him the insect, and he begged me to let him
take it to the fort. On my consenting, he thrust it forthwith into his
waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which it had been wrapped,
and which I had continued to hold in my hand during his inspection.
Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and thought it best to make
sure of the prize at once—you know how enthusiastic he is on all
subjects connected with Natural History. At the same time, without
being conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own
pocket.
“You remember that when I went to the table, for the purpose of
making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper where it was usually
kept. I looked in the drawer, and found none there. I searched my
pockets, hoping to find an old letter, and then my hand fell upon the
parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which it came into my
possession; for the circumstances impressed me with peculiar force.
“No doubt you will think me fanciful—but I had already established a
kind of _connection_. I had put together two links of a great chain.
There was a boat lying on a seacoast, and not far from the boat was
a parchment—_not a paper_—with a skull depicted on it. You will,
of course, ask ’where is the connection?’ I reply that the skull, or
death’s-head, is the well-known emblem of the pirate. The flag of the
death’s-head is hoisted in all engagements.
“I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. Parchment
is durable—almost imperishable. Matters of little moment are rarely
consigned to parchment; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of
drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper. This
reflection suggested some meaning—some relevancy—in the death’s-head.
I did not fail to observe, also, the _form_ of the parchment. Although
one of its corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it could
be seen that the original form was oblong. It was just such a slip,
indeed, as might have been chosen for a memorandum—for a record of
something to be long remembered and carefully preserved.”
“But,” I interposed, “you say that the skull was _not_ upon the
parchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you
trace any connection between the boat and the skull—since this latter,
according to your own admission, must have been designed (God only
knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your sketching the
_scarabæus_?”
“Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at this
point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps were
sure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, for example,
thus: When I drew the _scarabæus_, there was no skull apparent on the
parchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave it to you, and
observed you narrowly until you returned it. _You_, therefore, did not
design the skull, and no one else was present to do it. Then it was not
done by human agency. And nevertheless it was done.
“At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and _did_
remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred
about the period in question. The weather was chilly (O rare and happy
accident!), and a fire was blazing on the hearth. I was heated with
exercise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn a chair close
to the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment in your hand, and as you
were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and
leaped upon your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed him and
kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment, was permitted
to fall listlessly between your knees, and in close proximity to the
fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to
caution you, but, before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were
engaged in its examination. When I considered all these particulars, I
doubted not for a moment that _heat_ had been the agent in bringing to
light, on the parchment, the skull which I saw designed on it. You are
well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have existed time out
of mind, by means of which it is possible to write on either paper or
vellum, so that the characters shall become visible only when subjected
to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in _aqua regia_, and diluted
with four times its weight of water, is sometimes employed; a green
tint results. The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre,
gives a red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter intervals
after the material written upon cools, but again become apparent upon
the re-application of heat.
“I now scrutinized the death’s-head with care. Its outer edges—the
edges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum—were far more
_distinct_ than the others. It was clear that the action of the
caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire,
and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At
first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint lines in the
skull; but, on persevering in the experiment, there became visible at
the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which the
death’s-head was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed
to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was
intended for a kid.”
“Ha! ha!” said I, “to be sure I have no right to laugh at you—a
million and a half of money is too serious a matter for mirth—but you
are not about to establish a third link in your chain: you will not
find any especial connection between your pirates and a goat; pirates,
you know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to the farming
interest.”
“But I have just said that the figure was _not_ that of a goat.”
“Well, a kid, then—pretty much the same thing.”
“Pretty much, but not altogether,” said Legrand. “You may have heard of
one _Captain_ Kidd. I at once looked on the figure of the animal as a
kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature; because
its position on the vellum suggested this idea. The death’s-head at the
corner diagonally opposite had, in the same manner, the air of a stamp,
or seal. But I was sorely put out by the absence of all else—of the
body to my imagined instrument—of the text for my context.”
“I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the
signature.”
“Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly impressed
with a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. I can
scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire than an
actual belief;—but do you know that Jupiter’s silly words, about the
bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect on my fancy? And
then the series of accidents and coincidences—these were so _very_
extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it was that these
events should have occurred on the _sole_ day of all the year in which
it has been, or may be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that without
the fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the precise
moment in which he appeared, I should never have become aware of the
death’s-head, and so never the possessor of the treasure?”
“But proceed—I am all impatience.”
“Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current—the
thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere on the
Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must have had
some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so long and
so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me, only from the
circumstance of the buried treasure still _remaining_ entombed. Had
Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the
rumors would scarcely have reached us in their present unvarying form.
You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers,
not about money-finders. Had the pirate recovered his money, there the
affair would have dropped. It seemed to me that some accident—say the
loss of a memorandum indicating its locality—had deprived him of the
means of recovering it, and that this accident had become known to
his followers, who otherwise might never have heard that treasure had
been concealed at all, and, who, busying themselves in vain, because
unguided, attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and then
universal currency, to the reports which are now so common. Have you
ever heard of any important treasure being unearthed along the coast?”
“Never.”
“But that Kidd’s accumulations were immense is well known. I took
it for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you
will scarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly
amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found involved
a lost record of the place of deposit.”
“But how did you proceed?”
“I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, but
nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating of dirt
might have something to do with the failure; so I carefully rinsed
the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having done this, I
placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the pan upon
a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become
thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy,
found it spotted, in several places, with what appeared to be figures
arranged in lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to
remain another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as you
see it now.”
Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to my
inspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a red tint,
between the death’s-head and the goat:—
53‡‡†305))6*;4826)4‡.)4‡);806*;48†8¶60))85;;]8*;:
‡*8†83(88)5*†;46(;88*96*?;8)*‡(;485);5*†2:*‡(;4956
*2(5*—4)8¶8*;4069285);)6†8)4‡‡;1(‡9;48081;8:8‡1;48
†85;4)485†528806*81(‡9;48;(88;4(‡?34;48)4‡;161;:188 ;‡?;
“But,” said I, returning him the slip, “I am as much in the dark as
ever. “Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me on my solution of
this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn them.”
“And yet,” said Legrand, “the solution is by no means so difficult as
you might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of the
characters. These characters, as any one might readily guess, form a
cipher—that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then, from what is
known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of constructing any of
the more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my mind, at once, that this
was of a simple species—such, however, as would appear, to the crude
intellect of the sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key.”
“And you really solved it?”
“Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand times
greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to take
interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human
ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may
not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, having once established
connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a thought to the mere
difficulty of developing their import.
“In the present case—indeed in all cases of secret writing—the first
question regards the _language_ of the cipher; for the principles of
solution, so far, especially, as the more simple ciphers are concerned,
depend on, and are varied by, the genius of the particular idiom.
In general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed by
probabilities) of every tongue known to him who attempts the solution,
until the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now before us,
all difficulty is removed by the signature. The pun upon the word
’Kidd’ is appreciable in no other language than the English. But for
this consideration I should have begun my attempts with the Spanish
and French, as the tongues in which a secret of this kind would most
naturally have been written by a pirate of the Spanish main. As it was,
I assumed the cryptograph to be English.
“You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there been
divisions, the task would have been comparatively easy. In such case
I should have commenced with a collation and analysis of the shorter
words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as is most likely
(_a_ or _I_, for example), I should have considered the solution as
assured. But, there being no division, my first step was to ascertain
the predominant letters, as well as the least frequent. Counting all, I
constructed a table, thus:
“Of the character 8 there are 33
; “ 26
4 “ 19
‡) “ 16
* “ 13
5 “ 12
6 “ 11
†1 “ 8
0 “ 6
92 “ 5
:3 “ 4
? “ 3
¶ “ 2
]— “ 1
“Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is _e_.
Afterwards the succession runs thus: _a o i d h n r s t u y c f g l
m w b k p q x z_. _E_ predominates, however, so remarkably that an
individual sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not
the prevailing character.