THE PEARL-FISHERS.
For two days longer the rain continued, and then with a gentle southerly
breeze the sky cleared and the sun came out again, lighting up once more
the land and sea and releasing us from the confinement indoors, which
had begun to grow irksome. Of course the first thing to be done was for
all three of us to be ferried over the creek and to walk up the beach to
the galleon. The two sand-banks were now dry and the water in the basin
was quite clear and transparent, so that the hull was plainly visible,
the raised poop and forecastle being only about three or four feet under
the surface. All her masts and spars had fallen and disappeared long
ago. A cluster of corals seemed to indicate where the foremast once had
stood. A curious thing was the appearance of a single pane of glass
which was visible in the side of the cabin. This pane had changed its
transparent quality to a milky condition of pearly irridescence, and
shone under water like a gem as it caught and reflected the light from
above.
This vessel never could have been noted for speed, I thought, as the
hull appeared to be a regular tub, with high bows and stern, a great
breadth of beam, and a low mid-deck or waist where lay the green remains
of what had once been four brass carronades. When sailing close-hauled
she probably went to leeward faster than she drew ahead. Doubtless such
was the ancient fashion of ships, and it accounts for the fact that the
old voyagers were sometime wind-bound, until the green moss and weeds
grew plentiful on their hulls, and the water and provisions gave out,
and the dreadful scurvy came to sweep away half the crew. I could
picture this lumping old craft as she might have looked when the old
admiral commanded her beneath the broad flag of Spain,--her crowded
decks, her tall masts, the gorgeous array of bright-colored garments
worn by the dusky grandees who were on board, the images of the saints,
the crucifix at the wheel, the shaven priest, and all the pomp and
ceremony that attended her clumsy progress to strange ports.
I knew the history of her last voyage well. I knew how she had twice
rounded Cape Horn and stanchly buffeted the storms of two oceans; of the
troops she had landed, the treasure she had taken up, and the final
scene when with sails set and colors flying she sank beneath the waves.
Long ago every soul who then lived had gone to the other world; the
admiral, his officers and his crew, the king and queen and all their
court were now returned to dust. Yet here lay the fabric of teak and
oak, still strong and stanch and enduring, and the store of gold that I
hoped to get. Were the shades of these departed ones aware that a
heretic was planning and contriving to get the long sunken treasure, so
much of which had been once designed for the coffers of the holy mother
Church?
We made a careful survey of the basin, and selected the lesser bank of
sand, that forming the breakwater at the narrow end of the chasm, as a
suitable site for the pumping-apparatus. Mr. Millward pointed out to me
the fact that the water stood higher in the basin than the then level of
the sea,--a proof, he insisted, that the water did not percolate to any
considerable extent through the firmly packed sand. This was a highly
important fact to us. Had it been otherwise we never could have hoped to
pump the basin dry, or below the sea level.
With a line we took some measurements which we expected to need, and
then set out on our return to the house.
As a matter of convenience we decided to build the water-raising machine
complete and set it up and test it at the creek near the house, where we
could be near such domestic comforts as we possessed; after which we
could load it on the boat and convey it to the chasm. And this work we
set about at once. As I have already indicated what this machine was to
be I need not here again detail minutely its construction. The wheel we
made chiefly of stout bamboo, the water-troughs of hollowed logs; the
bearings, in deference to Mr. Millward’s recollection of the uncouth
screeching of the machine’s Indian predecessors, we supplied liberally
with grease. In ten days the thing was complete and set up at the creek
for trial,--troughs, platform, and all. I had arranged that the water
might flow from the troughs into a ditch leading to our garden to
irrigate the growing crops.
When all was ready I mounted the wheel, and like a horse in a treadmill
(perhaps a better simile would be like a hod-carrier climbing an endless
ladder) began to turn it. Up came the full gourds, splashing the water
at quick intervals alternately into the two troughs, whence it flowed
down to the ditch in tinkling rills, steadily and continuously, as long
as I chose to keep up the ladder-climbing action. It was going to prove
rather hard work, I fancied; but nevertheless it was a perfect success,
as I was continually lifting more than half my own weight in water with
as little exertion as could have been required to accomplish that
result. Then Mr. Millward tried his footing on the machine; and finally
we had to help up Alice to try it in turn. Altogether it was unanimously
pronounced a grand success, and we only waited for a fair wind that we
might take it down and embark it for the chasm. Unfortunately for our
patience, the wind veered around into the northeast again, and was quite
too heavy to allow us to make the voyage with safety, as the rollers
came tumbling in over the bar at the mouth of the creek at such rate
that there would be great danger of swamping the boat in any endeavor we
might make to get outside.
I was so impatient at this delay that I had half a mind to take the
machine apart and attempt to carry it piecemeal overland. But it was
useless to repine over the inevitable. It was not probable that I should
gain an hour of time by undertaking to lug the machine overland, and I
should simply have a great labor for naught. There was therefore nothing
to do but to possess our souls with patience and await the issue.
Aside from the wind, which blew half a gale, the weather was pleasant,
and the sun shone warm and bright. As we had nothing better to do, it
was agreed that we should make an overland excursion to the old
plantation for the purpose of getting some fresh fruit. One morning
early, after a good breakfast, we ferried over the creek and started
with light hearts and in holiday spirits up the beach, the wind blowing
stiffly and the breakers crashing in beside us. I assisted Alice
Millward with my arm, for the breeze was strong enough to make walking
against it difficult for a woman. With bowed heads we beat slowly along
until we reached the hog path, and were glad to turn into it and get
under shelter of the vegetation, which broke the wind and made progress
comfortable. Neither of my companions had ever been over this road
before, and I explained what might be expected from moment to moment as
we advanced. When we came to the cleft in the rocks where the stream
came through, Alice and her father were delighted with the romantic and
picturesque beauty of the place; the bold, precipitous rocks, the
stream, the overarching trees growing far above, the dense beds of fern,
tall and feathery, were all duly admired.
When we emerged into the north valley, we found a great herd of pigs
that scattered and ran wildly at our approach. I managed to lasso a
little porker, just old enough to roast, which we proposed to have for
dinner. The orange grove was as before plentifully laden with oranges in
all stages of growth, many of them quite ripe, a delicious refreshment.
We soon reached the house, and building a fire in the broad fireplace of
the kitchen, spitted the porker in front of it, and leaving him to twirl
slowly before the fire on a twisting cord, we wandered over the old
garden and plantation, Alice and I often hand in hand. I felt sure that
she was pleased at my undisguised attention to her comfort, and that it
gave her pleasure to be with me; and this in turn gave me unspeakable
delight.
We were among the bananas and plantains seeking some of the latter to
bake as an accompaniment for our dinner of roast pig, when I heard what
sounded like the distant report of a gun. The sound was so faint and
distant that I could not be entirely sure of my impressions, until I had
asked Alice,--
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” she replied, “it sounded as though somebody had fired a pistol
far away over yonder on the high land.”
We listened intently several minutes for a repetition of the sound, but
as we heard nothing the impression soon passed away; for our
conversation, however uninteresting it would seem if written down, was,
I assure you, of most absorbing interest, at least to me, though we
talked of nothing in particular, and like children laughed at everything
out of mere high spirits. We went now with our plantains to the house,
where Mr. Millward was gone to look after the roast. He came out to meet
us, smiling at our evident enjoyment as he heard the merry ringing
laughter of his daughter, over some nonsense or other I had been putting
into words. As we all three stood in the shadow of the great veranda,
upon its brick pavement, between the joints of which the rank vegetation
was sprouting, I heard again, and this time borne on the wind quite
distinctly, two shots in quick succession. There was no mistaking the
sound this time. I saw instantly in the faces of both my companions that
each had heard the unusual sound. Mr. Millward cried quickly: “A gun!
who can be firing a gun on the island?”
“What can this mean?” thought I. And again we listened, but there was no
repetition of the report.
“Somebody besides ourselves is on the island,” said Mr. Millward.
We stood now looking at each other in silence for several minutes. My
mind reverted at once to the pearl-fishers. They had doubtless returned,
and the shots we had heard indicated that they were pig-hunting. The
same thought had occurred to Mr. Millward, and he immediately expressed
his fear that the pearl-fishers had come back. Indeed, it did not need
any great power of divination to determine this, because the chances
were as a hundred to one against any other visitors. All the picnic and
holiday hilarity of our excursion was over. We were full of anxiety and
care at once. The probability was that we had neighbors, of a most
undesirable character,--lawless adventurers who would have small respect
and consideration for us if we stood in their way, or even if they
thought so. If they discovered that we had surprised their secret it was
impossible to say what they might do. I had often thought of the
contingency which now apparently presented itself, and had cogitated
much and to no purpose as to what I should do when it arose. And now the
thing so long feared as a possibility was actually upon us. Unexpectedly
at the last it came like a skeleton to mar our happy feast. We hurried
through our dinner in anxious mood and immediately started back home,
laden with the fruit we had collected.
When we reached home everything was as we had left it. There had been,
so far as we could tell, no visitor in our absence. We arrived about
three o’clock in the afternoon. I was restive with the uncertainty and
anxiety that the sound of those three gunshots had occasioned. I felt
that I must know speedily the exact truth. Our own personal safety, to
say nothing of the treasure ship, was possibly involved, and I
determined to go at once to Farm Cove, where they would probably be
encamped, and reconnoitre the enemy secretly. Of course there would be
danger of encountering the pig-hunter, or party of pig-hunters on the
way, but I must endeavor by caution to avoid this. When I announced my
intention both Mr. Millward and Alice opposed my going; but I was able
very soon to convince them that it was necessary.
About four o’clock I started alone, not permitting the dog to accompany
me. I took the small axe from Mr. Millward’s boat, my lasso, some food,
and a small gourd of water slung as a canteen over my shoulder. I told
them I might not return until the next day; but that if I did not get
back before the next night they might conclude I had been captured; and
in that event it would be wise for them to embark in their boat and make
the best of their way to Martinique. But Mr. Millward proposed a better
plan, which was that if I did not return by the next night, he and
Alice, provided the weather was such as to permit it, would take both
boats out of the creek and anchor just beyond the breakers, and wait
there another day. This was such an excellent idea that I at once agreed
to it.
Bidding them farewell I plunged into the forest and made my way
cautiously to the central elevated plateau, climbing the rocks by the
path which I had first ascended. Here the open nature of the growth made
the utmost caution indispensable, for I might at any moment now come
upon the visitors, if they were still out pig-hunting. It was necessary
that I should see them before they saw me. This made my progress very
slow. Looking carefully about in every direction, and listening for
every sound, I advanced a hundred yards or so and repeated the
observation, concealing myself as thoroughly as the nature of the ground
permitted. On the connecting ridge between the central plateau and the
shore cliffs I came upon convincing evidence of the presence of visitors
on the island. Here a pig had been killed and disembowelled. The viscera
still fresh lay upon the ground, and a broad mark where the carcass had
been dragged along led away toward the shore cliffs in the direction of
Farm Cove. I had now little doubt that I should find the visitors at
that place. It was fully an hour before sunset, and I thought it best to
conceal myself and wait until dark before advancing further. I secreted
myself therefore amid a thick clump of ferns, and patiently waited for
the friendly shelter of the night.
As I sat thus buried in the ferns among the moss-grown rocks, looking
out through a break in the forest toward the southern sky, where lay a
battlemented mass of sun-dyed cloud, heavy and fantastic in outline,
there passed through my mind thoughts of the life and curious adventures
of that Henry Morgan, my ancestor’s brother, who two hundred years ago
had roamed these seas and besieged the Spanish strongholds. Fancy
pictured in the tinted clouds the fortified city of Porto Bello, the
seaport of Panama on the Atlantic side of the isthmus, which the
intrepid Morgan attacked with four hundred and sixty of his men, having
resolved to reduce this strongly fortified place as a preliminary to the
capture of the rich city of Panama itself. There was in my mind the
vision of the gray walls, the gorgeous banners, the smoke and roar of
guns, the white-faced priest and pale nuns looking from the convent
walls, the scaling-ladders, the grim, determined Anglo-Saxon sailors,
mingled with the equally determined Dutch and the black-bearded
Frenchmen, constituting Morgan’s little band. I could see in fancy the
flashing, blood-stained blades, and hear the hoarse battle-cry. I could
even fancy my ancestral uncle himself, broad-shouldered and commanding
in appearance as he needs must have been, standing, fire-balls in hand,
on the scaling-ladder, grimy with powder, and with his face set toward
the doomed city. There must have been something more than mere brute
force in this great leather-clad ancestral uncle of mine with his
flashing eyes and sturdy figure; for did he not control absolutely at
one time all this region; conquer the all-conquering Spaniard; quell
mutinies among his reckless followers with ease; lead them without food
across the fever-stricken isthmus, travelling amid inconceivable
obstacles ever onward until they were actually reduced to eating their
leathern doublets; then with this starved crew did he not besiege and
capture the rich city of Panama? When a mutiny rose and some of his
desperate followers threatened to desert him for a piratical cruise in
one of the captured ships, Morgan, like Hernando Cortez, but with his
own hand, chopped down the masts and rigging. Ah, there must have been a
spirit in this man greater than a mere piratical thirst for blood. Then
too, did not his sovereign, Charles II., bestow upon him subsequently
the order of knighthood, make him Sir Henry Morgan, and place him as
governor over the island of Jamaica? He died without descendants of his
own, the honors bestowed upon him in the later days of his career are no
longer remembered, and in the region he once dominated his name is used
to frighten children with. He is now remembered only as a buccaneer, a
name almost synonymous with “pirate;” a dauntless, reckless,
blood-thirsty, unconquerable embodiment of energy and will, brooking no
power near him save his own,--truly a leader of men, but exercising his
leadership to no good purpose. Though he once controlled the Spanish
main, we fail to see it recorded that he ever did good to any man.
Here was I now, two hundred years later, perhaps the sole surviving
representative of his family, his sole heir, seeking to recover a
treasure that he conquered, a treasure which I had already brought up
from the depths of the sea, and which only waited to be possessed. I
felt the old spirit of the dead Morgans fire my heart at the thought of
the possible intervention of a crew of lawless pearl-fishers to snatch
the prize from my grasp. The treasure was mine, doubly mine,--first by
conquest of one to whom I was heir; and secondly by right of discovery
and recovery from the sea. “No! by the Eternal, they shall not have it!”
I cried, half aloud. “By the bones of my all-conquering ancestor, they
shall never have an ounce of it, not so much as a glimpse of it!”
When it grew dark I resumed my progress toward Farm Cove, stealing along
as cautiously as I could over the somewhat broken way. Every few steps I
would pause and listen. It was dark as a pocket, and the cloudy sky was
scarcely discernible. But still, by keeping the wind on my right cheek
it was not difficult to preserve the proper direction, and I knew that
however dark the night, the sea would be visible when I reached the
cliffs, just as the sky was faintly distinguishable now through the
black foliage above me.
It took me fully an hour to cover the comparatively short distance that
remained, and it was not done without several falls on the way; but
fortunately I made no great noise, though an occasional dry branch would
break under foot with a sharp crack, which in the stillness sounded
alarmingly loud to my tense senses. In due course, groping along, I came
to the cliffs and could see the faint glimmer of the water through the
foliage. Then as I parted some branches I caught sight of the red
reflection of a fire on the leaves below, then the bright blaze of the
fire itself, and a canvas tent which was lighted by it. Increased
caution was now demanded. It would not do to step on a dry branch now,
so at each step I felt cautiously with my foot that nothing might
intervene between it and the ground. Fortunately I came out upon the
path which led down the rocks into the little vale that lay, as I have
previously described, like a bowl open on one side to the sea and nearly
surrounded by the cliffs. Down this path I stole cautiously, and was
half-way down before the intervening foliage would permit a fair view of
the encampment.
And now I was almost near enough to hear the conversation that was going
on among the people assembled there. Indeed, I could hear the hum of
voices, but was unable to distinguish words. In the light of the bright
fire I could see four men seated on the ground playing cards on a folded
blanket. They were evidently gambling. One of the four was a
yellow-skinned Chinaman, who sat facing me. Opposite him and with his
back toward me was a great, burly negro, while the other two players
were dark-skinned, black-haired native Indians or Caribbeans. The game
was an animated one, and the players were completely absorbed in it.
Near by the fire, seated on a fagot of wood, was a third Indian, his
head bent forward and resting on his hands as he looked steadily into
the fire. From where I was located I could not see into the tent, which
consisted of a square of canvas thrown over a pole and stretched
shed-fashion to the ground, with the opening toward the fire. But I
could plainly see on the canvas the shadow of a person seated within the
tent. On a limb near by hung distended the dressed carcass of a hog. I
could just make out that some sort of a craft was moored at the mouth of
the little stream.
I watched this scene for several minutes scarce daring to breathe. The
three Indians, each carrying a long knife in his belt, were, I
conjectured, the divers of the party; the Chinaman was doubtless the
cook; and as for the negro, I could not determine approximately his
place.
Suddenly the players fell to quarrelling, and one of the Indians, with
an angry cry, sprang up and drew his knife. Instantly the whole party
was on foot, and I fully expected from their excited manner and attitude
to see blood shed. Just at this juncture the person in the tent--a
man--came quickly out, with a drawn revolver in his hand, and sprang
into the mêlée, cursing and shouting in a loud, deep voice of command
for them to desist. He was a broad, compactly built fellow, of forty
years or thereabouts, evidently possessed of great muscular strength;
for he was able with his unoccupied hand to seize by the shoulder the
Indian who had drawn the knife, and with one effort send him reeling
backward almost to the ground.
“Caramba!” cried he, in guttural Spanish. “Dogs, stop this fighting, do
you hear? If I find you at it again there shall be no more card-playing.
Go to bed, or keep quiet, you quarrelsome scoundrels.”
The fight was over. All seemed alike to fear him, and when I saw his
countenance in the firelight I could not wonder. It was a dark,
powerful, and passionate face, framed in by a short black beard. Dark
enough for a Spaniard, there was yet something in the countenance that
made me think he was not of the Latin race; more likely a dark
Englishman or an American. Perhaps his dress and general appearance
contributed to this conclusion. He was the only white man in the party,
and that he was master, or chief, did not admit of a doubt.
Now that I had seen this cut-throat-looking gang and their chief, my
apprehension as to what they might attempt if they found us on the
island and in possession of their pearl-fishing secret was by no means
allayed. As to what would happen if they by any chance should discover
the galleon, I felt only too certain.
Crouched down among the dark leafage by the side of the path I remained,
a prey to many thoughts, for a quarter of an hour longer, and then stole
cautiously back up the path to the high ground above, and began my
return home through the darkness. When I had put a considerable
distance between me and the party I had left, I began to breathe more
freely. In the murky darkness I more than once missed the way, and
finally came out at a place where, though I could plainly hear the
murmur of the waters of the creek below me, it was impossible to
descend.
However, by travelling first in one direction and then in the other, I
at last came upon the little gulley which I had before descended, and
getting down was able to proceed with greater speed along the more
familiar route. It was midnight when I at last reached the house and
roused Mr. Millward and Alice to relate to them what I had seen.
As we were safe for that night at least, I proposed that we should go to
bed again and get our rest, and discuss our situation in the morning.