A HAVEN OF PEACE.
The night passed; a night of happy contentment. In picturesque groups
on the deck the company slept, their eyes covered from the light of the
tropical night. The sentry tramped the deck, listened to the cries
from the forest and the salty pool, watched the fireflies as they
darted to and fro, and called out the hours and the state of the night
whenever the ship's bell sent its musical note echoing from bank to
bank of the creek, and rousing the denizens of the forest around. A
bird sang in the grove, tuning its lay to reproduce the notes of every
songster that had warbled during the daytime. The scents from the
masses of flowers, that clustered the banks and wound their tendrils
round the giant trees, floated fragrantly on the night air. There was
peace in the heavens above and the downward glances of the quiet-eyed
stars; there was peace in forest and pool, and sweet sounds and
fragrant odours; the ship rocked gently on the flowing tide in a haven
that might have been a harbour on the shores of a paradise. And the
sleeping men dreamed pleasant dreams, for the scents of the flowers
came insensibly into their nostrils, and the song of the bird beat
rhythmically on their resting brains. Here, a sailor laughed softly
and musically in his sleep; there, a gallant young gentleman murmured a
beloved name, as the face of the one beloved passed by in a sweet
vision of the night. In his sleep many a one was already at the home
where he would be; his hard-won treasures glittered on the familiar
table, and he gave this to one and that to another, hung a chain on a
fair young neck or pressed a ring on a dainty finger. Johnnie Morgan
stood by the river, exactly as he had stood on that bright March
morning when Dolly came up and begged for a reconciliation. She came
again; the gulls flew over the sands, and the sun shone warmly. Ah!
how long it was since that March morning.
The feathered singer in the tree ceased his singing, and hid his head
under his wing as his bright-plumaged fellows had done. The stars
paled; nature stirred in her sleep; the sailor on the deck felt the
tremor that quivered through the animate world, and rubbed his eyes
more vigorously. A breeze moved through the trees; the ripple of the
water was more distinct; there was a splash--another--another. A frog
croaked sleepily to his fellows, and got no answer for a while. A
yellow band stretched across the eastern horizon; it tinged the heaving
waters, it flecked the trees with gold. The whole forest rustled and
twittered. A bird flew down to the water. A parrot screamed noisily;
a sleeper started up from his hard couch. The sentinel cried the hour,
and announced a fine morning. The world heard him and woke up.
The day was to be a day of great things. Overnight nothing had been
done, and no man had gone ashore. The decks were cleaned, prayers
said, breakfast eaten, and the rough plan of Oxenham's hiding-place
nailed down on the compass-box, where all could see it. Then Captain
Drake and the gentlemen of the company went ashore with Nick and Ned
Johnson. Hearts beat excitedly in the ship's boat, and hearts throbbed
in unison amongst those who waited on the deck. The party landed.
They clambered up the bank and pushed aside the tangled undergrowth,
some of the men using their swords in order to make the quicker way.
Some one kicks against a mass of green creeper; his boot strikes
something wooden and hollow; he has not lighted upon an empty bush.
Quickly he tears aside the clinging mass; a beautifully striped snake
wriggles out, hissing angrily. The man scarcely heeds the dangerous
thing. He shouts aloud; the others come up. What has he found? The
ruins of one of Oxenham's boats. Nick recognizes it. "I worked to
help build it," he says softly. "The Dons came upon us before we could
finish." The rough fellow uncovered his head.
The adventurers gazed with a strange interest upon the relic of a
former bold adventure. They turned it over almost reverently. "Brave
John Oxenham!" murmured Captain Drake.
But sentimental recollections were soon swept away. The discovery of
the half-finished boat put aside all doubts as to the identity of their
anchorage with that of Oxenham's. "How far off was the treasure
buried?" was the next eager question.
"Just out of the tide-way in the heart of a cluster of mangroves; we
notched the biggest tree," answered Nick. He looked around. "Yonder's
the spot," he cried. All followed him.
The quick-growing vegetation had enwreathed the trees with gay
creepers, but Nick soon found the mark of the axe on the bark.
Undergrowths choked up the gaps between the trunks of the trees, but a
couple of axes cleared a path. The men thronged into the inner space.
The ground was hard and overgrown, and certainly had not been touched
for a long time. Hopes rose higher than ever. Apparently the ground
had never been disturbed since Oxenham's visit. Captain Drake decided
to get to work at once. He rowed back to the ship, ordered the
pickaxes and shovels to be brought up from below, and chose out a first
gang of sailors and soldiers to go ashore and commence digging. A
couple of hours ought to suffice for the securing of the treasure.
The men tumbled into the boat, eager enough to begin. They rowed
ashore, stripped themselves to the waist, and set to work with a will,
cheering one another on with boisterous jests. Captain Drake remained
aboard. Sir John Trelawny and some of the adventurers superintended
the digging. Timothy Jeffreys and Johnnie Morgan wandered off along
the stream, hoping to light upon some game for the replenishing of the
larder. Nick Johnson pointed out a spring, and others of the company
busied themselves filling the barrels with fresh water. All were
animated, and occupied in some useful way or other.