WHAT GUY FOUND IN THE BLUE CHEST
Mr. Fenwick was only forty-eight years old, but his sedate and scholarly
manner gave him an appearance of being several years older.
It came to Guy as a shock that his father should be considered too old
by his parish, and that there should be any movement in favor of a
younger minister. He knew that his father was dependent on his salary,
having very little property. A change would be disastrous to him.
“I wish I were rich,” he thought, “so that I could relieve father from
any anxiety about money matters. It is lucky I don’t want to go to
college, for if I did, it would be a good many years before I could even
support myself.”
The next morning, after breakfast, Guy thought of his sailor uncle, and
the curiosity again seized him to find out the contents of the chest up
in the attic.
He went up the narrow stairs leading to the garret, and found himself
in a large room covering the entire extent of the house, for the attic
had never been finished off or divided into chambers. There were piles
of old papers and magazines in one corner, old mildewed garments hanging
from nails in the rafters, and two or three old rusty trunks.
But none of them attracted Guy’s attention. He was looking for his
uncle’s chest.
At last he found it--a typical sailor’s chest, painted blue, showing
signs of wear, for it had accompanied his uncle for years.
Guy’s face lighted up, and he hurried toward it.
He thought it might be locked, but he was glad to find that the lock
seemed to have been broken, so that he had no difficulty in lifting the
lid and examining the contents.
There was nothing unusual about these. They consisted of the plain
outfit of a sailor.
There were one or two books. One of them was a Bible, which had been
presented to his uncle George by his mother at the time he left home on
his first voyage.
Guy lifted it carefully, for he had been taught to reverence the Bible.
Then he saw underneath, an envelope of large size, unmarked on the
outside.
Opening this, he found a large sheet of paper, folded lengthwise, with
writing upon it. Lying inside was a smaller piece of paper, also written
over, the handwriting being that of his uncle George.
This Guy read first. The contents interested him exceedingly.
The paper is subjoined.
* * * * *
What I am writing here may or may not be of interest or value, yet it
may prove of importance to those who may read it, though it is possible
this will not be till after my death. Last year (from the date Guy saw
that it was the year before his death) among my mates on the good ship
Cyprus was a dark, thin man, the darkest in complexion, I think, that I
ever met outside the negro race.
No one on board knew him, nor did any of us get well acquainted with
him, for he was very silent and reserved, and did not care to make
friends or confidants. Yet he did his duty well. No fault could be found
with him. He did not become a favorite, as he did not care to talk or be
sociable with the rest of the sailors. We could not help respecting him,
however, as one who strictly minded his own business, and never in any
way interfered with others.
This man’s name was Antonio Smith, or Tony, as we should have called him
if we had been sufficiently intimate. The two names did not go well
together, and one day I asked him why it was that he had two such names.
“It is easily explained,” he said. “My father was an Englishman, named
Smith, but my mother was an Italian woman.”
“That explains your being so dark,” I said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” he answered.
He did not confide in me to any further extent. As far as I could
observe, he seemed moody and morbid. It seemed as if he had something on
his mind--something of a disagreeable nature.
Well, toward the end of the voyage he had a bad fall. He was helping to
furl sails when another sailor above him lost his hold, and fell on him.
This made Antonio lose his hold also, and he dropped to the deck,
striking his head.
It is a wonder he was not immediately killed. As it was he was fatally
injured, as it proved, and was removed to his bunk in a dying condition.
I pitied the poor fellow, and as much time as my duties would permit I
spent at his side, trying to make him comfortable.
One evening he looked at me earnestly, and asked: “Do you think that I
can live, George?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to deceive you,” I answered, “and I will
tell you the truth.”
“It is what I want to hear,” he said.
“The doctor says you can’t live.”
He showed no agitation, but said, thoughtfully: “That is what I
thought.”
After a pause he continued: “Before I die there is something I want to
confide to someone. You have been a friend to me, and you are the one I
choose, if you don’t mind, to listen to what I have to say.”
“I will hear it,” I said, “and if it is a message to anyone in whom you
are interested I will engage to deliver it, if possible.”
“No, there is no one in whom I am interested,” he answered. “All who
once knew me are dead, or at all events are dead to me. But I have a
secret which I once thought would be of value to me, and may be of value
to you, whom I constitute my heir.”
All this seemed very queer to me, and I half thought that the sick man
might be wandering in mind. He went on: “You must know, George, and this
is my first secret, that for five years I sailed under the black flag,
and was a pirate!”
I looked astounded, as well I might, and he continued:
“I see you look surprised, but you are not more surprised than I was
when I found myself enrolled as a member of a piratical crew. I shipped
on board the Vulture, supposing it to be an ordinary merchantman. It was
not till I got well out to sea that I learned the true character of the
vessel. Then I was asked to sign as a member of the crew, and knowing
well it would be dangerous to refuse, I agreed.
“After a while I got reconciled, in a measure, to my position. I found
it more profitable than the post of an ordinary seaman, and yet not so
much so as might be supposed. While the booty taken was very large, it
was not all divided between the officers and men. There was a
considerable portion that was set aside as a fund to be divided some
time between us when we disbanded. For not one of the officers or men
expected always to continue pirates. Some day we hoped to give up this
outlaw’s life and become respectable citizens, living in ease and luxury
on our share of the booty. No one would be the wiser.
“I was an Englishman, and I looked forward to returning to my native
village in Devonshire, marrying, and settling down. There was a farm on
which I had my eye, and an old schoolmate--a farmer’s daughter--whom I
thought I could induce to marry me when I returned rich.”
“But where was this booty, as you call it, concealed?” I asked.
“That is what I was coming to. It was concealed on a small island east
by north from the great island of Madagascar, which, as you know, lies
southeast of the African continent. There is a group of islands there.
None of us, that is, none of the ordinary sailors, knew the name of the
island, if it had any. But I have thought it over, and consulted maps,
and to the best of my reckoning it is one of the Agalegas Islands in
about 57 degrees east longitude, and a little more than 10 degrees south
latitude. I estimate that it may be a few hundred miles from Cape Amber,
the northern extremity of Madagascar.”
“Did you often go there--that is, did the ship often touch there?”
“Every few months, when we had a good supply of money and articles to
leave there.”
“I suppose there was quite a valuable collection of articles stored
there?”
“I can’t tell the value, but there were chests full of gold and silver
coins, boxes of bankbills, and merchandise of the rarest and most
valuable description.”
“Is it there now, or has it been divided?”
“It is there yet.”
“How came you to leave the pirate ship?”
“I did not leave it till I was compelled to do so.”
“How is that? Were you discharged? I should hardly think the officers
would have dared to let you go, considering your knowledge as to the
character of the ship.”
“You are right there. They would not have dared to do so, but the
Almighty, whose laws had been so flagrantly defied, interfered. There
came on a terrible storm when we were cruising in the Indian Ocean. It
was so violent and unexpected that we were by no means prepared to meet
it.
“In the course of three hours the staunch ship Vulture became a wreck,
and the crew who manned it were forced to take to the boats. There were
three of these. The captain was in one, the first mate in the second,
and the boatswain in the third. The sea was so rough that the first and
second boats were swamped before our eyes. I was in the third. When the
storm abated it was still afloat. I was one of the men on board.
“For a week we drifted about, suffering everything from hunger and
thirst, for we were able to carry but scanty stores of food and water.
One by one I saw my comrades die, but having, perhaps, the best
constitution, unimpaired by excesses of any kind, I survived--the last
of eight men. I was very near death when I was picked up by an American
ship. Of course, I did not say a word as to the character of the vessel
to which I belonged, and those who rescued me were not too inquisitive,
so I reached New York without divulging any secrets. But my great secret
was that, as the last survivor of the piratical crew, I was the heir and
sole possessor of the treasure stored on the island!”