This morning, having grown very tired of fish, of which I get
plenty every time I go out in the boat by dragging a line behind, I
decided to stay ashore and hunt pig. I set out across the base of
the point, nearly due south--whereas I had been working along the
coast to the north of the cove. On my right the slope of the
mountain rose steeply, and as I approached the south shore the rise
of the peak became more abrupt, and great jutting crags leaned out
over the tree-tops below.
I reached the edge of the cliffs and found that on my right hand
the mountain dropped in a sheer precipice from hundreds of feet
above me straight into the sea. I considered, and made up my mind
that by striking back some distance one might by a very rough climb
gain the top of the precipice, and so swing around the shoulder of
the mountain. I did not feel inclined to attempt it. The cliffs
at this point offered no means of descent, and the few yards of
sand which the receding tide had left bare at their foot led
nowhere.
So far I had seen no pig, and I began to think they must all be
feeding on the other side of the island. I turned to go back, and
at that moment I heard an outcry in the bushes and Benjy came
tearing out at the heels of a fine young porker. I threw up my gun
to fire, but the evolutions of Benjy and the pig were such that I
was as likely to hit one as the other. The pig, of course, made
desperate efforts to escape from the cul-de-sac in which he found
himself. His only hope was to get back into the woods on the
point. Benjy kept him headed off successfully, and I began to edge
up, watching my chance for a shot. Suddenly the pig came dashing
straight toward me--oblivious, I suppose, to everything but the
white snapping terror at his heels. Taken by surprise, I
fired--and missed. The pig shot between my knees, Benjy after him.
I withstood the shock of the pig, but not of Benjy. I fell,
clawing wildly, into a matted mass of creepers that covered the
ground beside me.
I got to my feet quickly, dragging the whole mass of vines up with
me. Then I saw that they had covered a curiously regular little
patch of ground, outlined at intervals with small stones. At one
end was a larger stone.
The patch was narrow, about six feet long--instantly suggestive of
a grave. But swift beyond all process of reason was the certainty
that flashed into my mind. I fell on my knees beside the stone at
the head and pulled away the torn vine-tendrils. I saw the letters
B. H. and an attempt at cross-bones rudely cut into the surface of
the stone.
I closed my eyes and tried to steady myself. I thought, I am
seeing things. _This is the mere projection of the vision which
has been in my mind so long_.
I opened my eyes, and lo, the fantasy, if fantasy it were,
remained. I smote with my fist upon the stone. The stone was
solid--it bruised the flesh. And as I saw the blood run, I
screamed aloud like a madman, "_It's real, real, real_!"
Under the stone lay the guardian of the treasure of the _Bonny
Lass_--And his secret was within my grasp.
I don't know how long I crouched beside the stone, as drunk with
joy as any hasheesh toper with his drug. I roused at last to find
Benjy at my shoulder, thrusting his cool nose against my feverish
cheek. I suppose he didn't understand my ignoring him so, or
thought I scorned him for losing out in his race with the pig. Yet
when I think of what I owe that pig I could swear never to taste
pork again.
Brought back to earth and sanity, I rose and began to consider my
surroundings. Somewhere close at hand was the mouth of the
cave--but where? The cliffs, as I have already said, were too
steep for descent. Nothing but a fly could have crawled down them.
I turned to the craggy face of the mountain. There, surely, must
be the entrance to the cave! For hours I clambered among the
rocks, risking mangled limbs and sunstroke--and found no cave. I
came back at last, wearily, to the grave. There lay the dust of
the brain that had known all--and a wild impulse came to me to tear
away the earth with my bare hands, to dig deep, deep--and then with
listening ear wait for a whispered word.
I put the delirious fancy from me and moved away to the edge of the
cliffs. Looking down, I saw a narrow sloping shelf which dropped
from the brink to a distance of ten or twelve feet below, where it
met a slight projection of the rock. I had seen it before, of
course, but it had carried no significance for my mind. Now I
stepped down upon the ledge and followed it to its end in the angle
of the rock.
Snugly hidden in the angle was a low doorway leading into blackness.
Now of course I ought in prudence to have gone back to the hut and
got matches and a lantern and a rope before I set foot in the
darkness of that unknown place. But what had I to do to-day with
prudence--Fortune had me by the hand! In I went boldly, Benjy at
my heels. The passage turned sharply, and for a little way we
walked in blackness. Then it veered again, and a faint and far-off
light seemed to filter its way to us through a web woven of the
very stuff of night. The floor sloped a little downward. I felt
my way with my feet, and came to a step--another. I was going
along a descending passage, cut at its steepest into rough,
irregular stairs. With either hand I could touch the walls. All
the while the light grew clearer. Presently, by another sharp
turn, I found myself in a cave, some thirty feet in depth by
eighteen across, with an opening on the narrow strip of beach I had
seen from the top of the cliffs.
The roof is high, with an effect of Gothic arches. Near the mouth
is a tiny spring of ice-cold water, which has worn a clean
rock-channel for itself to the sea. Otherwise the cave is
perfectly dry. The shining white sand of its floor is above the
highest watermark on the cliffs outside. There is no doubt in my
mind that in the great buccaneering days of the seventeenth
century, and probably much later, the place was the haunt of
pirates. One fancies that Captain Sampson of the _Bonny Lass_ may
have known of it before he brought the treasure to the island.
There were queer folk to be met with in those days in the Western
Ocean! The cave is cool at blazing midday, and secret, I fancy,
even from the sea, because of the droop of great rock-eaves above
its mouth. Either for the keeping of stores or as a hiding-place
for men or treasure it would be admirable. Yes, the cave has seen
many a fierce, sea-tanned face and tarry pigtail, and echoed to
strange oaths and wild sea-songs. Men had carved those steps in
the passage--thirty-two of them. In the sand of the floor, as I
kicked it up with my feet, hoping rather childishly to strike the
corner of the chest, I found the hilt and part of the blade of a
rusty cutlass, and a chased silver shoe-buckle. I shall take the
buckle home to Helen--and yet how trivial it will seem, with all
else that I have to offer her! Nevertheless she will prize it as
my gift, and because it comes from the place to which some kind
angel led me for her sake.
I left the cave and hurried back to the cabin for a spade, walking
on air, breaking with snatches of song the terrible stillness of
the woods, where one hears only the high fitful sighing of the
wind, or the eternal mutter of the sea. As I came out of the hut
with the spade over my shoulder I waved my hand to the _Island
Queen_ riding at anchor.
"You'll soon be showing a clean pair of heels to Leeward, old
girl!" I cried. Back in the cave, I set to work feverishly, making
the light sand fly. I began at the rear of the cavern, reasoning
that there the sand would lie at greater depth, also that it would
be above the wash of the heaviest storms. At the end of half an
hour, at a point close to the angle of the wall my spade struck a
hard surface. It lay, I should judge, under about two feet of
sand. Soon I had laid bare a patch of dark wood which rang under
my knuckles almost like iron. A little more, and I had cleared
away the sand from the top of a large chest with a convex lid,
heavily bound in brass.
Furiously I flung the sand aside until the chest stood free for
half its depth--which is roughly three feet. It has handles at the
ends, great hand-wrought loops of metal. I tugged my hardest, but
the chest seemed fast in its place as the native rock. I laughed
exultantly. The weight meant gold--gold! I had hammer and chisel
with me, and with these I forced the massive ancient locks. There
were three of them, one for each strip of brass which bound the
chest. Then I flung up the lid.
No glittering treasure dazzled me. I saw only a surface of stained
canvas, tucked in carefully around the edges. This I tore off and
flung aside--eclipsing poor Benjy, who was a most interested
spectator of my strange proceedings. Still no gleam of gold,
merely demure rows of plump brown bags. With both hands I reached
for them. Oh, to grasp them all! I had to be content with two,
because they were so heavy, so blessedly heavy!
I spread the square of canvas on the sand, cut the strings from the
bags, and poured out--gold, gold! All fair shining golden coins
they were, not a paltry silver piece among them! And they made a
soft golden music as they fell in a glorious yellow heap.
I don't know how long I sat there, playing with my gold, running it
through my fingers, clinking the coins together in my palm. Benjy
came and sniffed at them indifferently, unable to understand his
master's preoccupation. He thrust his nose into my face and
barked, and said as clearly as with words, _Come, hunt pig_!
"Benjy," I said, "we'll leave the pork alone just now. We have
work enough to count our money. We're rich, old boy, rich, rich!"
Of course, I don't yet know exactly what the value of the treasure
is. I have counted the bags in the chest; there are one hundred
and forty-eight. Each, so far as I have determined, contains one
thousand doubloons, which makes a total of one hundred and
forty-eight thousand. Estimating each coin, for the sake of even
figures, at a value of seven dollars--a safe minimum--you get one
million, thirty-six thousand dollars. And as many of the coins are
ancient, I ought to reap a harvest from collectors.
Besides the coin, I found, rather surprisingly, laid between the
upper layers of bags, a silver crucifix about nine inches long. It
is of very quaint old workmanship, and badly tarnished. Its money
value must be very trifling, compared to the same bulk of golden
coins. I think it must have had some special character of
sacredness which led to its preservation here. It is strange to
find such a relic among a treasure so stained by blood and crime.
And now I have to think about moving the gold. First of all I must
get the chest itself aboard the _Island Queen_. This means that I
shall have to empty it and leave the gold in the cave, while I get
the chest out by sea. When the chest is safely in the cabin of the
sloop--where it won't leave much room for Benjy and his master, I'm
afraid--I will take the bags of coin out by the land entrance. I
can't think of risking my precious doubloons in the voyage around
the point.
Of course I should have liked to get to the task to-day, but after
the first mad thrill of the great event was over, I found myself as
weak and unnerved as a woman. So by a great effort I came away and
left my glorious golden hoard. Now I dream and gloat, playing with
the idea that to-morrow I shall find it all a fantasy. The
pleasure of this is, of course, that all the while I _know_ this
wildest of all Arabian fairy tales to be as real as the most drab
and sober fact of my hitherto colorless life.
After all, on the way back from the cave Benjy brought down a pig.
So he is as well pleased with the day as I am. Now I am sitting in
the doorway of my cabin, writing up my journal, and trying to calm
down enough to go to bed. If it were not for the swift fading of
daylight, I would go back to the cave for another peep into the
chest. But all round the island the sea is moaning with that
peculiarly melancholy note that comes with the falling of night.
The sea-birds have risen from the cove and gone wheeling off in
troops to their nests on the cliffs. Somehow a curious dislike,
almost fear, of this wild, sea-girt, solitary place has come over
me. I long for the sound of human voices, the touch of human
hands. I think of the dead man lying there at the door of the
cave, its silent guardian for so long. I suppose he brooded once
on the thought of the gold as I do--perhaps he has been brooding so
these ninety years! I wonder if he is pleased that I, a stranger,
have come into possession of his secret hoard at last?
Oh, Helen, turn your heavenly face on me--be my refuge from these
shuddering unwholesome thoughts! The gold is for you--for you!
Surely that must cleanse it of its stains, must loose the clutch of
the dead hands that strive to hold it!
February 11. This morning I was early at the cave. Yes, there it
was, the same wonder-chest that I had dreamed of all night long.
It was absurd how the tightness in my breast relaxed.
I began at once the work of removing the bags from the chest and
stacking them in the corner of the cave. It was a fatiguing job, I
had to stoop so. At the bottom of the chest I found a small
portfolio of very fine leather containing documents in Spanish.
They bear an official seal. Although I should be interested to
know their meaning, I think I shall destroy them. They weaken my
feeling of ownership; I suppose there is a slight flavor of
lawlessness in my carrying off the gold from the island like this.
Very likely the little Spanish-American state which has some claim
to overlordship here would dispute my right to the treasure-trove.
I spent so much time unloading the chest and poring over the
papers, trying, by means of my ill-remembered Latin, to make out
the sense of the kindred Spanish, that before I was ready to go for
my boat the tide was up and pounding on the rocks below the cave.
I find that only at certain stages of the tide is the cave
approachable by sea. At the turn after high water, for instance,
there is such a terrific undertow that it sets up a small maelstrom
among the reefs lying off the island. At low tide is the time to
come.
February 12. Got the chest out of the cave, though it was a
difficult job. I don't know of what wood the thing is built--some
South American hardwood, I fancy--but it weighs like metal. The
heavy brass clampings count for something, of course. Luckily
there was no sea, and I had a smooth passage around the point, I
laughed rather ruefully as I passed the Cave of the Two Arches. To
think of the toil I wasted there! I wish Benjy had encountered the
fateful pig a little sooner.
Got the chest aboard the _Island Queen_ and stowed in the cabin.
Not room left to swing a kitten. Contrived an elaborate
arrangement of ropes and spikes to keep it in place in a heavy sea.
In the afternoon began moving the gold. It's the deuce of a job.
February 15. Been hard at it for three days. Most of the gold
moved. Have to think too of provisions and water for the trip. I
am making rather a liberal allowance, in case of being blown out of
my course by a tropical gale.
February 16. On board the _Island Queen_. Have moved my traps
from the hut and am sleeping on the sloop. Want to be near the
gold. "Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also," and
in this case the body as well. To-morrow I have only to bring the
last of the gold aboard--a trifling matter--and then go out with
the ebb. I would have got all the bags on board to-day, but I
noticed a worn stretch in the cable holding the sloop and stopped
to repair it. I can't have the sloop going on the rocks in case a
blow comes up to-night. There are only about a load and a half of
bags left in the cave.
A queer notion seized me to-day about the crucifix, when I was
bringing it from the cave. It seemed to float into my brain--I
can't say from what quarter--_that I had better leave the crucifix
for Bill_. It wasn't more than he had a right to, really--and
there is no virtue in a cross-bones to make a man sleep well.
Of course I put the absurd idea from me, and brought the crucifix
aboard along with the rest of the gold. I shall be glad when I
know that the vines have again covered that lonely-looking
gravestone from sight. I can't help feeling my own glorious good
fortune to be somehow an affront to poor unlucky Bill.
To-morrow one last trip to the cave, and then hey, for home and
Helen!
The diary ended here.
I closed the book, and stared with unseeing eyes into the green
shadows of the encompassing woods. What happened to the writer of
the diary on that last trip to the cave? For he had never left the
island. Crusoe was here to prove it, as well as the wreck of the
Island Queen. And, in all human probability, under the sand which
choked the cabin of the derelict was the long-sought chest of
Spanish doubloons.
But what was the mysterious fate of Peter? Had he fallen,
overboard from the sloop and been drowned? Had he returned to the
cave--and was he there still? It was all a mystery--but a mystery
which I burned to solve.
Of course I might have solved it, very quickly, merely by
communicating the extraordinary knowledge which had come to me to
my companions. But for the present at least I meant to keep this
astounding secret for my own. Somehow or other, by guile or lucky
circumstance, I must bring it about that the document I had signed
at Miss Browne's behest was canceled. Was I, who all unaided had
discovered, or as good as discovered, the vainly-sought-for
treasure, to disclose its whereabouts to those who would deny me
the smallest claim upon its contents? Was I to see all those
"fair, shining golden coins," parceled out between Miss Browne, and
Mr. Tubbs, and Captain Magnus (the three who loomed large in my
indignant thoughts), and not possess a single one myself? Or
perhaps accept a little stingy present of a few? I really wasn't
very covetous about the money, taken just as money; but considered
as buried treasure it made my mouth water.
Then besides, while I kept my secret I had power; everybody's
destiny was in my hands. This was a sweet thought. I felt that I
should enjoy going about with a deceptive meekness, and taking the
severest snubs from Miss Browne, knowing that at any moment I could
blossom forth into the most exalted and thrilling importance.
Also, not only did I want a share in the treasure myself, but I
wanted, if possible, to divide it up on a different basis from the
present. I wanted Cuthbert Vane to have a lot of it--and I should
have been much better pleased not to let Mr. Tubbs or Captain
Magnus have any. I did not crave to enrich Violet, and I thought
Aunt Jane had already more money than was good for her. Give her
another half-million, and Mr. Tubbs would commit bigamy, if
necessary, for her sake.
And then there was Dugald Shaw, who had saved my life, and who
seemed to have forgotten it, and that I had ever had my arms about
his neck--and who was poor--and brave--
Yes, decidedly, I should keep my secret yet while, till I saw how
the cards were going to fall.