OPENING THE TREASURE CHEST
The dawn came slowly, and with but little increase of light. The
breeze had almost entirely died away, leaving the canvas aloft
motionless, the schooner barely moving through a slightly heaving sea,
in the midst of a dull-gray mist. It was a dismal outlook, the decks
wet, the sails dripping moisture, and nothing to look about upon but
wreaths of fog. Even as the sun rose, its rays failed to penetrate
this cloud bank, or yield slightest color to the scene. It was all
gray, gloomy, mysterious--a narrow stretch of water, disappearing so
suddenly the eye could not determine ocean from sky. The upper masts
vanished into the vapor, and, from where I stood aft, I could but
dimly perceive the open deck amidships. The light yet burning in the
binnacle was hazy and dull.
There was to my mind a threat in the weather, expressed in the silence
overhead, as well as in the sullen swell underfoot. We could not be
far from the coast--a coast line of which I knew next to nothing--and,
at any instant, the blinding fog encircling us might be swept aside by
some sudden atmospheric change, catching us aback, and leaving us
helpless upon the waters. Again and again I had witnessed storms burst
from just such conditions, and we were far too short-handed to take
any unnecessary risk. I talked with Harwood at the wheel, and waited,
occasionally walking over to the rail, and peering out into the mist
uneasily. It seemed to me the heave of water beneath our keel grew
heavier, the fog more dense, the mystery more profound. Safety was
better than progress, particularly as there was no real object any
longer in our clinging to a westerly course. The sensible thing was to
lay too until the enveloping fog blew away, explore that room below,
and explain my plans to the men.
This determined upon I called all hands, and with Watkins in command
forward, preceded to strip the vessel of canvas, leaving exposed only
a jib sheet, with closely reefed foresail, barely enough to give the
wheelsman control. This required some time and compelled me to lay
hold with the others, and, when the last gasket had been secured, and
the men aloft returned to the deck, Sam had the galley fire burning,
and breakfast nearly ready. The lads, saturated with moisture, and in
anything but good humor, were soon restored to cheerfulness, and I
left them, sitting about on deck and returned aft, where Dorothy,
aroused by the noise, stood, well wrapped up, near the rail.
Sleep had refreshed her greatly, her eyes welcoming me, a red flush on
either cheek.
"Have you been up all night?"
"Yes, but I would hardly know it--a sleepless night means nothing to a
sailor."
"But it was so selfish of me to sleep all those hours."
"I had you to think about; all we have said to each other, and our
plans."
"What are they? You have determined?"
"To do as you suggested. It is the braver, and, I believe, the better
way. The difficulty is going to lie in convincing the crew of their
safety. I shall explore below before having a talk with them."
"In hope of discovering treasure to be divided?"
"Yes, that will have greater weight with those fellows than any
argument, or promise. Here comes Sam with our breakfast; we will eat
here from the flag locker."
The negro served us with some skill, and, discovering we were hungry,
both did full justice to the well-cooked fare. The denseness of the
fog hid the men from us, but we could hear their voices, and
occasionally a burst of laughter. We were talking quietly together,
and had nearly finished, when Watkins emerged through the mist, and
approached respectfully.
"You did not like the look o' things, sir?" he asked, staring out into
the smother astern.
"I've seen storms born from such fogs," I answered, "and know nothing
of this coast."
"You think then it's not far away--out yonder?"
"It is all a guess; we made good progress most of the night, and I
have no confidence in the chart. There are headlands hereabout, and we
might be within hail of one at this minute. It is safer to lie quiet
until the mist lifts. By the way, Watkins--"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Miss Fairfax tells me that was a storeroom in which I fought the ape
last night."
"It was, sir." "And she reports having seen a chest, iron-bound,
among the other stuff. Did you notice it?"
He walked across to the rail, spat overboard, and came back, politely
wiping his lips on his sleeve.
"Yes, sir, I did; it was stored ter starboard, an ol'fashioned sea
chest, padlocked, an' looked like a relic, but a damned strong box.
You think maybe there's gold in it?"
"Likely enough. I found about five hundred pounds in the Captain's
room; but there must be more aboard, unless it was left behind in
Cuba. My idea is that was why the monkey was locked up in there--to
guard the treasure. Does that sound reasonable?"
He scratched his head, his eyes wandering from her face to mine.
"Yes, sir, it does. I've heard o' such things afore. A chimpanzee is
better'n a big dog on such a job; thar ain't no sailor who would
tackle the beast."
"That was my way of looking at it. So while we are lying here, and the
lads are in good humor--hear that laugh--I am going to find out what's
in the chest. After I know, I'll talk to the men. Do you agree?"
He nodded, but without speaking.
"Are you willing to go below with me?"
"I ain't overly anxious 'bout it, Mister Carlyle," he replied gruffly,
plucking awkwardly at the peak of his cap. "I'm a seaman, sir, an'
know my duty, an' so I'll go 'long if yer wus ter order me to. Yer
know that; but I ain't fergot yet this yere is a cholera ship, an'
it's goin' ter be as black as night down thar in thet cabin--"
"Don't urge him Geoffry," the girl interrupted, her hand on my
sleeve. "Leave him here on deck, I am not in the least afraid, and
all you need is someone to hold the light. Please let me do that."
I looked down into her eyes, and smiled.
"Suppose we should encounter another ape?"
"Then I would want to be with you," she responded quickly. "You are
going to consent?"
"I suppose I am, although if there was the slightest danger my answer
would be otherwise. Keep the men busy, Watkins, while we are
gone--don't give them time to ask questions. You brought the lantern
on deck?"
"Yes, sir; it's over there against the grating."
"Very well; we'll light up in the companion, so the flame will not be
seen by the crew. Coming, Dorothy?"
She accompanied me cheerfully, but her hand grasped mine as we groped
our way down the stairs into the dark cabin. A faint glimmer of gray
daylight filtered through the glass from above, and found entrance at
the open ports, but the place was nevertheless gloomy enough, and we
needed what little help the candle afforded to find our way about. The
memories haunted us both, and hurried us to our special mission. The
door of the storeroom stood wide open, but the after ports were
closed, the air within heated and foul. Dorothy held the lantern, her
hands trembling slightly, as I stepped across and unscrewed both
ports. The moist fog blew in upon me but was welcome, although I
stared forth into a bank of impenetrable mist.
The dead ape lay just as he had fallen, with his hideous face
upturned, and a great gash in the head. The hatchet with which I had
dealt the blow, rested on the deck, disfigured with blood. The
hugeness of the creature, its repulsive aspect in death, with savage
teeth gleaming in the rays of the lantern, and long, hairy arms
outspread, gave me such a shock, I felt my limbs tremble. For a moment
I could not remove my eyes from the spectacle, or regain control of my
nerves. Then I some way saw the horror, reflected in her face, and
realized the requirements of leadership.
"He was certainly a big brute," I said quietly, "and it was a lucky
stroke which finished him. Now to complete our work in here and get
out."
I picked up the hatchet, and my glance sought the whereabouts of the
chest. The light was confusing, and she stepped forward, throwing the
dim yellow flame directly upon the object.
"This is what I saw--see; does it look like a treasure chest to you?"
"If it be not, I never saw one--and a hundred years old, if it is a
day. What a story of the sea it might tell if it had a tongue. There
is no way to find its secrets but to break it open. Place the lantern
on this cask of wine; now, if I can gain purchase with the blade, it
will be easily accomplished."
It proved harder than I had believed, the staple of the lock clinging
to the hard teak wood of which the chest was made. I must have been
ten minutes at it, compelled to use a wooden bar as lever, before it
yielded, groaning as it finally released its grip, like a soul in
agony. I felt the girl clutch me in terror at the sound, her
frightened eyes searching the shadows, but I was interested by then to
learn what was within, and gave all my effort to lifting the lid.
This was heavy, as though weighted with lead, but as I finally forced
it backward, a hinge snapped, and permitted it to drop crashing to the
deck. For an instant I could see nothing within--no more indeed than
some dimly revealed outline, the nature of which could not be
determined. Yet, somehow, it gave me an impression, horrible,
grotesque, of a human form. I gripped the side of the chest afraid to
reach downward.
"Lift up the lantern--Dorothy, please. No, higher than that. What in
God's name? Why, it is the corpse of a woman!"
I heard her cry out, and barely caught the lantern as it fell from her
hand. The hatchet struck the deck with a sharp clang, and I felt the
frightened clasp of the girl's fingers on my sleeve. Yet I scarcely
realized these things, my entire attention focussed on what was now
revealed writhin the chest. At first I doubted the evidence of my own
eyes, snatching the bit of flaring candle from its tin socket, and
holding it where the full glare of light fell across the grewsome
object. Ay, it was a woman, with lower limbs doubled back from lack of
space, but otherwise lying as though she slept, so perfect in
preservation her cheeks appeared flushed with health, her lips half
smiling. It was a face of real beauty--an English face, although her
eyes and hair were dark, and her mantilla, and long earrings were
unquestionably Spanish. A string of pearls encircled her throat, and
there were numerous rings upon her fingers. The very contrast added
immeasurably to the horror.
"She is alive! Surely she is alive?" the words were sobbed into my
ear, trembling from Dorothy's lips, as though she could barely utter
them. I stared into her face, the sight of her terror, arousing me
from stupor.
"Alive! No, that is impossible!" and conquering a repugnance, such as
I had never before experienced, I touched the figure with my hand,
"The flesh is like stone," I said, "thus held lifelike by some magic
of the Indies. I have heard of such skill but never before realized
its perfection. Good God! she actually seems to breathe. What can it
all mean? Who could the woman be? And why should her body be thus
carried about at sea. Is it love, or hate?"
"Not love, Geoffry. Love would never do this thing. It is hate, the
gloating of revenge; there can be no other answer--this is the end of
a tragedy."
"The truth of which will never be known."
"Are you sure? Is there nothing hidden with her in there to tell who
she was, or how she died?"
There was nothing, not a scrap of paper, not even the semblance of a
wound exposed. The smile on those parted lips had become one of
mockery; I could bear the sight no longer, and rose to my feet,
clasping Dorothy close to me, as she still gazed down in fascination
at the ghastly sight.
"We will never know. The man who could tell is dead."
"Captain Paradilla?"
"Who else could it be? This was his schooner, and here he alone could
hide such a secret. There is nothing more we can learn, and the horror
unnerves me. Hold the light, dear, while I replace the lid of the
chest."
It required my utmost effort to accomplish this, yet I succeeded in
sliding the heavy covering back inch by inch, until it fell finally
into place. I was glad to have the thing hidden, to escape the stare
of those fixed eyes, the death smile of those red lips. It was no
longer a reality, but a dream of delirium; I dare not think, or
speculate--my only desire being to get away, to get Dorothy away. My
eyes swept about through the confusing shadows, half expecting to be
confronted by other ghosts of the past, but all they encountered were
the indistinct outlines of casks and boxes, and the hideous hairy
figure of the ape, outstretched upon the deck. The candle fluttered in
the girl's shaking hand, the yellow glare forming weird reflections,
ugly shapes along the wall. God! what if it should go out, leaving us
lost and groping about in this chamber of horrors? In absolute terror
I drew her with me to the open door--then stopped, paralyzed; the half
revealed figure of a man appeared on the cabin stairs.
"Stop! who are you?"
"Watkins, sir. I came below to call you. There's sumthin' bloomin' odd
takin' place out there in the fog, Captain Carlyle. We want yer on
deck, sir, right away."