I loafed below and forward considerably. I found a lot to interest me,
particularly a job that the Russian Finn was on in his spare time. He
was making a new tail for his monkey. He explained to me half tearfully
that the monkey would never be safe or happy otherwise. I had pretty
hard work to understand the man’s broken lingo, but I gathered that this
especial kind of monkey needed to spend a portion of his time hanging
head downward from his tail in order to be well and contented. Once
or twice since the tail had been amputated the monkey had run up the
foremast or the derrick, and had confidently tried to throw an imaginary
tail over a rope, and had tumbled to the deck, where he had squatted
and moaned and examined the stump with confused and pitiful attempt to
understand the phenomenon. I could sympathize with the Finn’s fears when
he said that “some day he fall over the board or break him damn neck.”
The cook’s random blow had left some inches of the stump, and to this
with marline and glue the Finn deftly fastened by an “end-seizing” a
wire covered with furred skin. I wondered where he secured this skin. He
owned up to me. He had captured and killed one of the cook’s pet cats,
and the cook had never opened his eyes wide enough to detect the crime,
or to behold where the skin of the defunct was performing vicarious
atonement.
This catskin-covered wire was hooked at the end. Edison, I reckon, never
watched the testing of an invention with greater raptness than the
Finn displayed as the monkey, after a thorough inspection of the new
appendage, clambered aloft to where a rope swayed invitingly. I confess
that I shared in that interest. It proved a surprising success. The
monkey swung from the hook, chattered, and grinned, and came down and
sat for long minutes scrutinizing the thing, running busy little fingers
along the furred wire.
“I may need an inventor with brains when I get at my job down below
here,” I told the Finn. “I will remember what you have done to your
monkey.”
But when the time did come, it was the monkey instead of the master who
served.
As day followed day, and we finally raised the loom of the southern
California mountains in the blue distance on our port, Ingot Ike came
out of the lethargy in which limitless supplies of soft gingerbread
seemed to involve him. He talked to me with the brown crumbs sticking
in the comers of his mouth, and his spirits rose higher each day. He was
like a thermometer which was being brought nearer and nearer to heat.
His talk became more eager, his demeanor more alert, joy more intense.
“After all I’ve talked about it, and told ’em about it, and argued,
it’s coming true at last,” he kept repeating to me. He had fastened
himself to me with especial insistence during the voyage. “You’re the
one who is going to get it, who is going off this boat right down to
where it is, where you can lay your hands right on it, sir. Won’t it be
a grand feeling when you lay your hands on the first box?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “it will--when I lay my hands on it.”
I did not say that with any great enthusiasm. If Ingot Ike had not been
so full of gingerbread and glee he would have seen that I was pretty
much down. That San Francisco cocktail had got well worked out of me.
I’d had plenty of time to think the whole thing over during that wallow
down the coast. A man could be hopeful, in on shore, with Mr. Keedy
rolling the word “gold” over his tongue like a luscious morsel. I had
been hopeful--and desperate. But after days at sea in that rickety old
tub, with her rotten equipment, her bargain-sale fittings, her makeshift
crew, with her whole grouchy, suspicious, and reckless atmosphere, I
decided that I was a fool and would have been better off if I had
gone out and hunted for a legitimate job. I had ahead of me the fact,
according to old Ike, that other good men had tried and failed. I had
behind me just then the sure feeling that Mr. Keedy proposed to do me up
as soon as I made good, provided I did so by some lucky chance.
The last stage of the voyage south was made with old Ike posted in the
crow’s-nest, his beak thrust out, and his mat of hair fluttering in the
wind. He was so excited that he forgot to wallop gingerbread between his
toothless jaws.
Number-two Jones, who wasn’t a bad sort, gave me some information about
the coast which was in sight of us since we had crossed the mouth of the
Gulf of California. He had sailed those waters before. He had a somewhat
misty remembrance of where the steamer _Golden Gate_ had gone ashore,
but he had never been in the vicinity of the spot, for the sand-bars
obliged craft to keep well offshore.
According to his recollection, the wreck had occurred along the Guerrero
coast, somewhere between Orilla and Acapulco. The doomed steamer, after
she had caught fire, was headed for the harbor of Acapulco, almost the
only haven on the coast, but an outlying sand-bar tripped her many miles
north of her destination and she went to her grave. Mr. Jones confessed
that he did not know just where; he would be obliged to hunt fifty miles
of coast for her if it were up to him.
But Ingot Ike had the memory of a monomaniac on the subject of the
_Golden Gate_. He peered under his palm at the hazy sky-line; he threw
back his head and snuffed into the east like a dog treeing game.
Captain Holstrom started the lead going as soon as Ike had asked to
have the _Zizania_ hug the coast more closely. He knew the reputation
of those hummocks and submarine plateaus of sand, and the howl of the
leadsman rather astonished me when he reported, for on the Atlantic
coast, to which I had been accustomed, we would be in deep water with a
coast-line so far away in the hazy blue of the east. At a distance which
I judged to be at least two miles offshore we were getting a report of
only fifteen or twenty fathoms.
At last Ike began to swish his thin arm. “Ye’d better down killick,
Captain!” he screamed from the crow’s-nest. “We’re laying off of her.
This is the place.” He scrambled down and ran to the wheel-house. “If
you put her in closer than this she’ll roll her blamed old smokestack
out.”
Captain Holstrom accepted that advice promptly, though the shore-line
was at least a mile away.
He yelled shrilly, and splash! went the port anchor. When she had swung
wide he sent down the starboard mud-hook, and she headed the rolling
Pacific, riding easily to the heave of the giant sweepers.
A little thrill tingled in me as she came to a halt. We were on the
ground at last.
It was now up to me!
There were plenty of other men on that boat, but there was only one
man who could reach out and put his hand on that treasure, and that was
myself. The thought did not help to cheer my despondency.
Captain Holstrom was immediately busy with a huge telescope which he
lifted from its rack and leveled across the sill of the wheel-house
window. Old Ike was excitedly counseling him, jabbing a digit toward the
shore.
“Follow down from that second nick in that hossback mount’in,” the guide
suggested. “Them is my bearings. You ought to see them ribs fairly plain
against the white where that surf is breaking inshore.”
There was silence after that while the captain squinted through the
glass, twisting a section now and then to sharpen the focus. His
daughter was in the wheel-house at his side, her face tense. She had
never intimated to me, of course, what her ideas were in regard to this
treasure quest. She may have held the whole project in the same contempt
in which she seemed to hold Keedy, its chief instigator, or old Ike, its
prophet. But I stole a look at her, and decided that she was interested
now.
Well, anything with intellect above that of a steer would have had to be
interested at that moment.
We were hoping that yonder under those rollers lay three or four million
dollars’ worth of gold--gold enough to buy everything that man or woman
could desire.
Even the blockheads of the checker-board crew, who could hope for no
more than their wages from the quest, were staring over the rail from
the main deck forward, their mouths open. Marcena Keedy was eating a
cigar instead of smoking it.
“Them ribs ought to be there, Captain,” insisted the old man, wistfully.
“The rest has been buried, but them ribs have stood all the swash for
years. They ought to be there.”
There was another long silence.
Then Captain Holstrom straightened up. “They’re there!” said he. He
beckoned to me. I was at the rail. “Come in here,” he directed. “It’s
your next peek--for yonder is laid out your job.”
I had good eyes and I spotted the objects right off. There were three
curved ribs of a ship outlined against the white of the breaking rollers
beyond. The telescope gave the view relief and perspective, and I saw
that the ribs were well outshore. Many yards of tossing water, so I
judged, were between them and land.
“Well, what do you think?” he inquired, when I passed the glass back.
“I’ll tell you after I’ve been down, sir. A diver can’t afford to waste
guesswork on the top side of water.”
The girl shook her head when her father offered her the telescope, and
Keedy came in and took his look.
“Away in there, is it? Well, what are we waiting for out here?”
Captain Holstrom looked his partner up and down.
This sudden exhibition of a lack of a practical knowledge took his
breath away for a moment.
“We’re waiting out here because we have got to stay here, Marcena. This
is as far as it’s safe to go.”
“We might as well sit on the Cliff House piazza and boss the job as be
out here,” grumbled the gambler.
“I don’t know what sort of an idea you had about getting this treasure,”
retorted the captain. “But if you had paid attention to Ike when, he
was telling about the lay of the land you ought to have realized that we
wasn’t going to tie up to that wreck and have Sidney hook bags of gold
on to a fish-line for you to pull up.”
“I’m down here to have a general oversight in this business,” said
Keedy, “and I propose to be near enough to the job to oversee it.”
Captain Holstrom looked a bit disgusted. “We might rig a bos’n’s chair
for you on one of them ribs, and cut a hole in the water for you to look
down through. But see here, Marcena, don’t get foolish about this thing.
All you’ve been thinking about, so I judge, is of them boxes of gold,
and you haven’t stopped to figure on the way of getting ’em. I have
figured. I’ve talked a lot with old Ike when you wasn’t listening, but
was dreaming about them ingots. Now you listen to me. Let’s start in
without a row and a general misunderstanding.” He began to dot off his
points with a stubby forefinger.
“We can’t anchor the _Zizania_ any nearer. There isn’t holding-ground on
that sand, and we’ve got to have plenty of water under this steamer in
case of a blow. See those lighters forward? I bought ’em after I got a
general understanding of the lay of the land here from Ike.”
“You bought a lot of things without consulting me,” said Keedy, showing
his grouch. “What _am_ I in this thing--a passenger or a partner? Seeing
that my money is in it, I propose to have my brains in, too.”
The man acted and talked in a way to indicate that he was starting
out hunting for trouble. It began to look to me as if there were worse
shoals ahead for our partnership than the shoals of San Apusa Bar. Mr.
Jones had given me that as the name of the place where the wreck lay.
Capt. Rask Holstrom did not have the steadiest temper in the world. His
eyes narrowed.
“Every man for his own line, Keedy. I’m not presuming to tell you how to
deal from the box, nor how to size the buried card in stud poker. Nor I
don’t need any advice from you when it comes to handling a job of work
in tidewater. I’ve waited till I got here to tell you my plans. When
I can talk and you can see the layout at the same time, I’ll not be
wasting so much breath; even those faro-game brains of yours can take
in what I’m getting at. Now, hold right on! This is going to be a square
deal, and you can sit close to the jack-pot. Those four lighters are
going overboard, and we’ll moor them in a chain between here and the
shore. We can splice the cables so as to allow a hundred fathoms between
each one. That will make each lighter a sort of a bridle anchor for the
others, and we ought to get the inshore lighter mighty nigh the wreck.
You can stay on that lighter and have your meals brought if you hanker
to.”
He snapped out that last remark while he was backing down the ladder
from the bridge to the main deck. The sneer that went with it did not
improve the state of Keedy’s feelings.
“I’ll show this aggregation whether I can boss a job or not,” he
growled.
I decided right then that if Keedy tried to boss me from that inshore
lighter the partnership of Holstrom, Keedy & Sidney would get a fracture
in the second joint much wider than the one which was already widening
there. I looked after him when he strolled away, and I reckon if he had
turned around and given me one of those nasty looks of his just then
I would have run after him and hoisted him a good one under the
coat-tail--gladly taking the consequences. I had never hated Anson C.
Doughty any worse. Keedy had grafted himself on to the project with
stolen money--and now he was insulting the rest of us by placing us in
the rogue class with himself and in need of watching.
I suppose I looked very blue and ugly and disgusted as I stood there at
the rail, scowling first at Keedy and then at the streaming white of the
surf which played beyond the ribs of the wreck.
The girl spoke to me. She leaned from the window of the wheel-house,
and there was a note in her voice I had never heard before. All her
brusqueness was gone. She was sort of confidential and wistful.
“You don’t think much of this scheme, do you, Mr. Sidney?”
I was in the mood to agree with her. “There must be an almighty good
reason why those other fellows did not recover the treasure, Miss
Holstrom, providing old Ike is right in what he says and that they
didn’t get it. I can tell better after I have been down.”
“I have never seen a diver at work. It is very dangerous, isn’t it?”
“That depends on the job. I have been as deep as one hundred and seventy
feet, Miss Holstrom, and I felt perfectly safe, though the pressure made
my nose bleed. Another time I was down in only four fathoms in the wash
of a lee shore, and they couldn’t keep my lines and my air-hose dear,
and they pulled me up near dead. That’s a lee shore yonder, and I’m
afraid I’m going to find some very good reasons why the other divers
didn’t succeed. Sometimes I am tempted to believe that they did get the
gold and that old Ike’s talk is simply a dream.”
“I think the whole affair is a nightmare--I mean this trip,” she
declared. “I don’t believe the good Lord is going to allow a man like
Marcena Keedy to succeed in any decent enterprise.”
I rubbed my ear and looked at her for a few minutes. I had been turning
over a thought about this expedition in my mind for some days. I did not
know whether to say anything to her about it or not. It would be giving
Captain Holstrom a pretty hard dig. But I blurted it, for she knew I had
something on my mind and bluntly demanded to know what I was thinking
about.
“Perhaps this is the kind of a scheme where the devil will help his own,
Miss Holstrom--and therefore Keedy belongs in the thick of it as chief
manager. He’ll win on that basis. I don’t know much about admiralty
law or maritime justice. But it may be that this treasure has not been
officially abandoned. Perhaps taking it is stealing it. I know that the
_Zizania_ got away from port with papers as a trawl fisher. I know I
have no business talking like this about your father’s affair. But if
it’s to be real stealing, perhaps we’ll succeed with Keedy in the game,”
I said--and it was a pretty clumsy joke. It fell flat.
“I hope my father will wake up,” she said, curtly, looking down on
him where he was giving off orders about clearing the big derrick.
“Sometimes I almost believe in evil spirits and in control of a man’s
mind by another man--in a wicked way, I mean. But I thank God there’s
one of the Holstrom family who can’t be hypnotized by Marcena Keedy.
That is why I have come on this voyage--my father needs a guardian.”
She came down the steps from the wheel-house, and went into her
state-room. I walked aft, for the _Zizania_ had swung with the surges,
and was tailing toward shore, and I wanted to look at the place where my
work had been cut out for me.
Keedy met me amidship. He came out from behind a lashed life-boat, and
it struck me at once that he had been in ambush, spying on me. That was
before he had opened his mouth. He did not leave me in any doubt when he
began to talk.
“Let’s get to an understanding about Miss Holstrom, Sidney,” he rasped,
leveling his finger at me. “You let her alone. No more buzzing her
behind my back or her father’s.”
“Keedy, you have started running after trouble to-day. In my case,
you’ll catch up with it mighty soon.”
“Then let’s make believe I have caught up. I’m going to marry that
young lady. And no cheap Yankee masher is going to stand around and make
sheep’s eyes at her. That’s business and you keep your hands down. You
slap me again, Sidney, and I’ll drop you in your tracks--even if the
gold stays there till we can get another diver.” He had his hand on his
hip, and his eyes were fairly green.
I started to tell him what I thought of him and his chances with that
girl, proposing to throw in a few remarks about what I should do if I
wanted to. But I shut my mouth suddenly. I had no right to stand out
there and insult a girl by quarreling about her with a fellow of that
stripe.
Vastly different were the circumstances and the relations of the persons
concerned--but I felt the same rankling of resentment which hurt my
pride and my feelings when Jeff Dawlin growled his warning in my ear.
I hated to leave any false impressions with Keedy. I did not propose
to have him think I envied him anything he possessed or thought he
possessed. Pride and the spirit of brag--that was it--prompted my
answer.
“Look here,” I shot out at him, “I have a girl East who is worth more
than all the gold you expect to find in that wreck over there. What do
you think I’m out in this God-forsaken country for? What do you think
I’m gambling along with you for? It’s so I can grab off enough money to
make a showing when I carry it back home and pour it into her lap! Don’t
you worry, Keedy. I don’t want any of your girls. There’s one who is
waiting for me back East!” How a man will lie when he gets to talking
about girls! I snapped my fingers under Keedy’s nose and walked on aft.
I felt considerably relieved because I figured I had taken some of the
conceit out of him. I had a lot taken out of myself when I returned.
Miss Kama Holstrom met me. She gave me one of those up-and-down glances
which seem to sting like the flick of a long lash.
“I have no objection to your discussing your love affairs with Mr.
Keedy, my dear sir--though I question your good taste. But I must ask
you not to discuss me with him.”
“I assure you I did not!”
“I stepped into my state-room only to get my cap. I was walking on the
other side of the life-boat when you were talking.”
“But I--”
“I’m sure you understand my request, sir.” She walked on.
A fine partnership--that of Holstrom, Keedy, and Sidney,
treasure-seekers! And there was a silent partner whose silence just
then, along with her disgust, sent a crimson flame into my cheeks.