Black and high, the islands of the Aland Archipelago rise out of the
Baltic. All winter long they lie bound about with ice. With the spring,
the ice, borne southward by the waking streams of the north, grinds
past them, scraping and tearing, rending all that lies in its path. The
short summer follows, when the great bowl of the Baltic rocks to the
horizon like molten gold; when the black rocks take on a coat of living
green; and the sea birds scream as they flash through the surf that
breaks against them or tears through the narrow channels between.
On the eastern edge of the archipelago rise two islands, Burndo and
Ivono, Siamese twins whose tie has not been wholly severed. The channel
between them lies almost east and west and not north and south, and
so has been spared the full scour of the annual ice-flood. Cut deep
at each seaward end, in the middle it is interrupted by a dike of
harder rock that as yet persists against the inevitable and at low tide
changes it into two inlets that nearly touch each other.
Into the western inlet, driven by her slowing engines, and urged by
waves and tide, the _Orkney_ had sped two years before; had impaled
herself upon a sunken rock; and, shuddering backward, had sunk with her
crew and her passengers and her million pounds sterling of gold.
No eye had seen her sink. The little fishing village of Burndo,
scattered along the western inlet, close to the central neck, had slept
soundly, lulled by the roar of the wind. The watchman at the beacon
tower on the heights of Ivono Island had dozed, not watching. If cries
arose from the sinking ship; if men battled for life in the surf; if
the waves hammered and the wind tore, it passed unnoticed. When morning
dawned the _Orkney_ lay ten fathoms deep, and the wreckage and bodies
belonging to her, caught in the tide, had been swept away toward
Copenhagen and the vast Atlantic. Two succeeding winters had torn her
masts away and ravished her upper decks of all their superstructure.
But the hull lay intact, buried far beneath the green water.
For five days the _Sea Spume_ had lain moored close to the head of the
channel, within sight of the village, while the divers searched the
bottom hour after hour until the last ray of daylight vanished. One of
them was really a scientific assistant, and to him was allotted the
task of making such observations and collecting such specimens as would
naturally have been desired by Professor Shishkin, had the object of
the expedition actually been that which it purported to be. Indeed, so
far as the Professor was concerned, the work was conducted in good
faith, the researches planned really being in exact line with his
long-cherished ambitions.
The other two divers, under direction of Captain Wilson, commander of
the _Sea Spume_, who had necessarily been taken into confidence some
time before, lost no time in setting about their search for the wreck.
In less than half an hour after the _Sea Spume_ was in position, they
were hard at work at the bottom of the inlet.
It was not to be expected that the search would be brief. The inlet (or
high-tide channel), though comparatively small, was large as compared
with the _Orkney_. Its bottom was rocky, with irregular humps and
unexpected holes, making search slow and difficult. Even if the unlucky
steamer had run upon the beach itself, it must have slipped back and
been carried by the current to a greater or less distance--just how
far no one could predict. The divers might chance on it at their first
descent, or might not discover it for a week or more. And after it was
found would come the toilsome task of salvaging the gold. Five million
dollars would weigh about ten tons, and, even lightened as it would be
by being in the water, it would not be the work of a day to move it,
even if it could be readily come at, which was improbable.
The adventurers had laid their plans with a full knowledge of these
facts. Had there been any chance of speedy work, they might have tried
to conceal their presence, but under the circumstances this would be
impossible. Therefore they had resolved to proclaim their presence and
even to welcome visitors if any should appear, up to the moment before
the gold began to be brought aboard.
Besides the advisability of making their presence known to the
authorities, there was always the off-chance that careful watch as the
launch sped to and fro in the inlet might disclose the _Orkney_ lying
like a dark shadow beneath the water. The fisher boats, of course, had
not discovered it, but this argued little, because the boats generally
used the other, or eastern, outlet, rather than the western; and
further, perhaps, because the fishermen were not looking for anything
of the kind.
So soon as possible after the divers had gone below the water, Caruth
ordered out a steam launch to make the quarter-mile trip to the head
of the inlet and visit the village which he knew lay there, though
screened from view of the yacht by a turn in the channel.
Caruth had intended to go to the village alone on the first trip,
leaving Marie Fitzhugh (who thought it best not to show herself) and
Captain Wilson to superintend affairs on board the yacht and deal with
any emergencies that might arise. It was no part of his plan to take
Wilkins along, but when that individual joined him, evidently intending
to go, he did not quite know how to refuse.
So far, he had no reason to question the plainsman’s good faith.
Wilkins had produced his brother’s letter at the time promised, and it
had proved to be all that he had claimed for it. Caruth could not risk
exciting any animosity by showing unwillingness to trust the man on
shore.
Suddenly, in the midst of his hesitation, he recalled the westerner’s
marked liking for the pretended Olga Shishkin, and at once sought out
that young woman and invited her to go on the trip to the village.
“You’ll be doing us all a favor if you’ll come, Miss Shishkin,” he
urged. “Of course we are all loyal and all that, but”--he dropped his
voice--“none of us know very much about Wilkins, and it would make
things a good deal safer for your father and the rest of us if you’d go
along and keep an eye on him. He’s all right, you know, but----”
“But you’re on the anxious bench all the same. I know how it is myself.
Sure! I’ll go with pleasure, Mr. Caruth.”
The run up to the village was brief, and soon the launch grated against
a little wooden pier and disembarked her passengers, who started toward
the cluster of buildings that seemed to constitute the village.
“There’s the church and the store and the post-office and the mayor’s
house,” explained Caruth, pointing out the several edifices. “There’s
no mistaking any of them, once you know the type. I’ll have to go to
the mayor first, to report my arrival, and give him a chance to inform
St. Petersburg. You needn’t come in unless you like. It will take only
a few minutes, and then we can see the town.”
By the time the party had reached the village, quite a little crowd had
collected. Visitors are few on Burndo Island, and the news of their
coming spread apace. Curious faces appeared at doors and windows, and
gaping children lined the way.
Caruth vanished into the house of the mayor, where he found that his
business would take a much longer time than he had expected. The mayor,
a stupid and suspicious peasant, spoke no English, and Caruth spoke no
Russian, and there was a delay until an interpreter could be found.
This interpreter proved to be a slim fellow, whose appearance, despite
the fact that his features were hidden by a profusion of beard,
nevertheless impressed Caruth with a vague sense of familiarity. For
an instant, indeed, the young fellow was sure that he had seen the man
before; the next moment, however, he dismissed the idea as preposterous.
But he quickly adverted to his former feeling when the interpreter
addressed him in very good American.
“Mornin’, Cap’n,” he said, with a nod. “This old son of a gun wants to
know who you are and what you want here, anyhow.”
Caruth gave his name and explained the object of his trip; then added:
“Who are you? You talk like an American.”
“American! Well, I guess yes! Me for the starry banner every time. I’m
from little old Noo York; I am. But wait a minute till I tell his
pie-face what you say.”
He turned and translated what Caruth had said into halting Russian, and
then appeared to render into English something that the Mayor said in
return.
“He says you are a liar or crazy,” he translated cheerfully. “He puts
it kinder easier, but that’s what it means all right. Say, that yarn
you told me about hunting things at the bottom of the bay is straight,
I suppose.”
“Of course it’s straight.”
“Well, I’ll try to sneeze it to him again, though I ain’t much on the
Russian. It tastes too much like it sounds, and that’s enough. Say!
I suppose you belong to the safety vault crowd and have barrels of
simoleons at home!”
Caruth flushed; then laughed. The man’s impudence was refreshing.
“Well,” he admitted, “I’ve got enough to keep me going.”
“I guessed so. Wait a minute. I must keep the old geezer satisfied.”
He turned and for a moment the language of the Czar held the floor.
Finally the man resumed.
“It’s that touch of yours about rising sea bottoms that gets him,” he
explained. “He says he’s lived here all his life and never saw the
sea-bottom rise yet, ’cept when the tide goes out. It’s a tough sort
of a gag to spring on one of these two-by-four government officers
what rank somewhere between jack high and a bobtail flush and is
intelligenced according. Not but what I reckon it’s true enough. But
about this here question of wealth. If you’ve got it to burn, I don’t
reckon you’d care to pyramid it a million or so, would you?”
Caruth was startled, his unquiet conscience making him suspect that
everything any one said to him had reference to his true errand.
“I don’t know,” he answered cautiously. “What have you got? A gold
mine?”
The man laughed shortly. “A gold mine!” he echoed. “A gold mine! Well,
I guess you might call it that. What I want to know is, do you care to
go in on it? Or if you don’t, will you help out an American marooned on
this durned holeski?”
Caruth nodded uneasily. “Oh, I suppose so,” he answered slowly.
“I’m always willing to help a fellow countryman. But you’ll have to
explain.” The man nodded. “I’ll explain all right,” he promised. “But
you’ve got to answer all the questions on this sheet of paper first or
you’ll have the Czarski in your hairski.”
The questions were long and tedious, and when they were finished Caruth
rose with a sigh of relief.
The interpreter rose also. “I’ve told his joblots that you want me to
show you round the mud puddle,” he explained. “That’ll give me a chance
to spiel. Come along.”
The two walked to the door. As they walked out, Wilkins met them. “Miss
Shishkin’s looking at the church,” he explained. “She’s----”
He broke off and his face grew red, then white, as his eyes fell on
the interpreter. Once or twice he swallowed; then coughed. “D---- that
Russian tobacco!” he exclaimed. “It’s been strangling me ever since I
sniffed it half an hour ago.”
Caruth, who had waited smilingly till the plainsman recovered, glanced
toward the church. “Shall we go over and join Miss Shishkin?” he
suggested. “I’ve got an interpreter here who can---- Hello! what’s
become of the fellow?”
The interpreter had vanished. In the few instants that Caruth’s
attention was centred on Wilkins, he had slipped away, probably around
one of the houses that stood close by. At first Caruth supposed that
the disappearance would be but temporary, but as the minutes went by
without sign, he was forced to conclude that it was both permanent and
intentional.
When at last doubt no longer remained, the young fellow laughed
angrily. “Let him go, confound him!” he exclaimed. “He was half crazy,
anyhow. Come! Let’s go to the church.”