FOR the next few minutes after the discovery of the bar of gold I think
no one of the three of us was wholly sane. Van Dyck and I fell over
each other in our eagerness to find out if there were more of them, and
as we dug deep in the treasure grave Madeleine knelt at the edge of it
and was to the full as daft as either of us.
Digging and groping by turns, we flung out bar after bar of the
precious metal until there was a heap of forty of them piled up in the
little glade. Forty was the exact number. When it was complete we found
that we had penetrated to the under-layer of humus which told us that
we had come to the rotted bottom of the chest in which the treasure had
been buried.
I think Madeleine was the first to break the spell of breathless
silence that had fallen upon us while we were digging and
dog-scratching in the soft sand.
"It can't be true! I can't believe it!" she said, over and over again.
"We are dreaming; we _must_ be dreaming--all of us!"
Bonteck had hoisted himself out of the pit and was poising one of the
gold bars in his hands.
"It is a gloriously substantial dream, Madeleine, dear," he said
gravely, ignoring me as if I were deaf and dumb and blind, or
altogether of no account. "For a rough guess, I should say that these
bars will weigh thirty-five or forty pounds apiece, if not more--say
a quarter of a million, in round numbers, for the lot. It isn't a
fortune, dear, but it will serve to--to buy you----"
She broke in with a frantic little cry of protest.
"But it isn't mine, Bonteck! It's--it's----"
It was at this crisis that Van Dyck deigned to take notice of me as
being present and able to answer to my name.
"She says it isn't hers, Preble. Tell her; make her understand."
"It is most unquestionably yours, Madeleine," I assured her. "You
will remember that Bonteck told you there was one chance in a hundred
million. That chance has won out, and it has fallen to you, incredible
as it may seem. By all the laws of the treasure seekers, the find is
yours."
"But it must have belonged to some one, at some time!" she objected,
honest to the core.
I nodded. "It really belonged to the poor Peruvians from whom the
Spaniards looted it. We are three or four centuries too late to restore
it to the unfortunate Incas. I'm afraid you'll have to take it and keep
it for your own."
"Of course she will keep it!" Bonteck thrust in. "The only question is,
what shall be done with it now?"
At this we held a hurried consultation over the disposition of the
discovery, with Madeleine insisting that we two ought at least to share
the miraculous treasure with her.
"Dick hates money, and I have too much of it, as it is," was the manner
in which Bonteck disposed of the sharing suggestion; and then we
decided hastily upon two reasonable immediacies; we would rebury the
gold, replace the coral boulder, and leave things as nearly as might
be as we had found them. And for the second reasonable conclusion it
was agreed that we should say nothing to any of the other castaways
at present. It could do no good to tell them; and, as Bonteck sagely
argued, it might do a good bit of harm by stirring up things at a time
when we all needed to sit tight in the boat.
We were working by starlight by the time we got the hole filled up and
the chunk of coral rolled back into place, and we could hardly see
well enough to be certain that we had removed all traces of our late
activities. Hoping that we had, and promising ourselves that we would
return in daylight to make sure, we set out upon the shortest way back
to the camp, which was along the north beach.
Madeleine hadn't said anything more about the ownership of the treasure
while we were reinterring it, but now she began again.
"I hope you're not sweeping me off my feet--you two," she said. "I
still can't make myself believe that I have any better right to that
gold than you have--or as much."
"Of course you have," Bonteck insisted. "Didn't you point out the stone
to us, I'd like to know?"
"But I should never have been there to point it out if you hadn't shown
the way," she asserted.
"We needn't split hairs over that part of it," I put in. "And your
argument doesn't hold, at that. It was your suggestion that we follow
the trail, or the imaginary trail, from the old wreck to the--also
imaginary--place where the Spaniards would be likely to hide their
gold. Don't you remember?"
"Oh," she laughed; "if I'm to be held accountable for every silly thing
I say----"
Once more Bonteck went over the equities patiently and painstakingly.
We, he and I, were only bystanders. In no possible viewing of the
circumstances could either of us lay claim to any essential part in
the miraculous discovery. Waxing eloquently argumentative, he made the
establishment of her right and title to the gold fill up the entire
time of our return, and if he didn't succeed in fully convincing her,
he was at least able to talk her down and silence her.
At the camp under the palms at the western extremity of our kingdom
we found wild excitement in the saddle, and our delayed return passed
unremarked. Just at sunset, Billy Grisdale and Edith Van Tromp, who
had been on watch at the western signal fire, had seen the smoke of a
steamer. They had lost the hopeful sight in the gathering dusk, and had
raced in to spread the good news; racing back again almost immediately,
with a snatched supper in their hands, to build the signal fire higher.
With this announcement to upset monotonous routine, the meal,
which, for the sake of preserving the most foolish of the civilized
conventions, we were still calling "dinner," was late, and it was
eaten by the more sanguine as the children of Israel ate their first
Passover, in haste and with staff in hand. Both Billy and Edith had
been hopefully positive that the ship they had seen was headed toward
the island, and the bare prospect of an early rescue was enough to key
excitement to the unnerving pitch.
But as time passed and nothing happened, the inevitable reaction set
in, and I think we all sank deeper into the pit of depression for the
sudden awakening of hope. While Annette and Alicia and Beatrice Van
Tromp were clearing away the remains of the belated meal, Grey drew me
aside.
"You've kept your head better than any of us, Preble," he began, "and
there is a thing that ought to be threshed out before it gets any
older. They are saying now that Bonteck is either crazy in his head, or
else he is the greatest villain unhung."
"Who is saying it?" I demanded.
"I don't know where it started, but with Ingerson and the major and
Barclay to reckon with, it wouldn't be very hard to trace it back
to its source. The charge is that Van Dyck has been robbing the
commissary--spiriting the provisions away a little at a time and hiding
them out."
I knew that this was true, so far as the liquors were concerned, but I
kept my mouth shut about that.
"What motive is assigned?" I asked.
"It is only hinted at, but the hint is gruesome enough, the Lord knows.
They say we are coming to the end; to a time when there will be nothing
left but a survival of the strongest. And they say, also, that if
Bonteck isn't a bit off his head, he is cold-bloodedly fixing things so
that he will be able to outlive the remainder of us."
I thrust an arm through Grey's and led him off up the beach in the
direction of the bay of the Spaniards.
"You're not trying to tell me that you believe any such hideous rot as
that, are you?" I exploded, after we had left the camp well to the rear.
"God knows, I don't want to believe it, Preble; I pointedly don't
believe the villainy charge. But the other hint--that Bonteck may be
losing his grip on himself: we've all noticed it; you must have noticed
it. And it is scaring the women no end. It is bad enough to have
Ingerson around, licking his lips and wolfing every drop of liquor he
can get his hands on; to have Barclay whining, and Miss Gilmore showing
her claws, and the major grabbing for a little more than his share when
he thinks nobody is looking. I have been trying hard to keep Annette
from seeing and hearing. She has a perfectly childish horror of crazy
people, Preble, and I--and we----" he broke down and choked over the
thing that he was afraid to say, and I tightened my grip on his arm.
"Brace up!" I broke out harshly. "We don't have to say die until we're
dead! You've got to brace up for Annette's sake. If she sees you
crumbling it'll be all up with her--you know that much. Past that, you
kill off this idiotic blether about Van Dyck every time you hear it.
It's rot--the wildest tommyrot! Bonteck has his load to carry, and it's
a good bit heavier than yours--or than mine, for that matter. He isn't
losing his mind, and he hasn't been raiding the commissary. Say those
two things over to yourself and to Annette until they sound real to
you!"
Grey pulled his arm free, and I could fancy him swallowing hard once or
twice.
"I want to be a man, in--in your sense of the word, Preble," he blurted
out. "I used to be, I think, before--before Annette came and snuggled
down into the empty place in my heart and made me see that it was up
to me to carry the full cup of her sweet life without spilling a drop
of it. But now--now when I look into her eyes and see the awful thing
lying at the back of them--the thing that she's trying every minute of
the day to keep me from seeing----"
He got this far before he choked up again, and now I couldn't be savage
with him--which was what he was most needing.
"I know," I said, with a far keener sympathy than he suspected, for I,
too, was seeing things in a pair of slate-blue eyes--eyes that were
braver than Annette Grey's. "But we mustn't let down, John; we can't
let down, you and I. When the pinches come, it's the man's privilege to
buck up and carry the double load. That is one of the things we were
made for." Then I tried to turn him aside from the most intimate of the
threatenings. "About this smoke trail that the children saw: could they
really tell which way it was heading?"
He shook his head.
"I am afraid not. They didn't see the ship; only the smoke. It was just
at dusk, you know, and they wouldn't have seen anything at all but for
the sunset glow in the west. It was quite dark when they came running
back to the camp, and they were both so excited they couldn't talk
straight."
"But they did see a smoke?"
"I don't know. No doubt they thought they did. But we've all been
straining our eyes and stirring up the little hope blazes until I think
none of us can be really certain of anything any more. I guess there
wasn't any ship."
"We needn't be too sure of that," I qualified. "There was a ship of
some sort on the southern offing no longer ago than last Friday." And I
told him what Conetta and I had seen.
"And you never told us!" he said reproachfully.
"It was only a disappointment, as it turned out, and sharing
disappointments doesn't make them any lighter. But you may tell
Annette, if you think it will help."
"It will help; I'll go back to camp and do it now. Are you coming
along?"
At first I thought I would. Then the remembrance of what Grey had told
me--about Van Dyck's newest trouble--came to oppress me, asking for
solitude and some better chance of clarifying itself.
"I think I'll stay here and smoke a pipe," I said; and so we parted.
The pipe smoking had progressed no farther than the lighting of the
match when I saw some one coming along the beach. I thought it was Grey
returning to say something that he had forgotten to say, but when Billy
Grisdale's dog came to sniff in friendly fashion at me, I knew that the
approaching figure must be Billy.
"Jack Grey told me where I'd be likely to find you," said the infant,
coming up to cast himself down upon the sand at my side. "Don't happen
to have another pinch of tobacco in your inside pocket, do you?"
I had, and when his need was supplied he rolled a cigarette in a bit of
brown paper saved from some of the provision wrappings and lighted it
at the glowing dottel of my pipe.
"Tough old world, isn't it?" he mourned, stretching himself out
luxuriously with his hands locked under his head. "Edie and I thought
we were sittin' on top of it when we saw that smoke trail just after
sunset, but it was only a false alarm."
"You are sure you saw a smoke?"
"Oh, yes; there was no doubt about that. We could see it as long as
we could see anything. But I guess we just joshed ourselves into
thinking that it was coming our way." He sat up to nurse his knees and
was silent for a little time. When he began again it was to say: "You
know these seas better than any of us; is there any chance at all that
we'll ever be taken off?... Lie down, Tige, old boy, and take it easy.
There's nothing to bite in these diggings--more's the pity."
I answered Billy's question cheerfully as a duty incumbent upon me, and
I fancied he took the forced optimism for exactly what it was worth.
While I was expatiating upon the law of lucky chances, the bull pup was
refusing to lie down and take it easy; he was standing stiffly with
his crooked forelegs braced and his cropped ears cocked as if at the
approach of an enemy.
"What is the matter with the dog, Billy?" I asked, and as I spoke, we
both thought we saw the answer in the lagoon at our feet. A triangular
black fin split the mirror-like surface for a brief instant, and a
twist of some huge under-sea body turned the darkling water into
lambent phosphorescent flames. It was not the first shark we had seen,
but they seldom penetrated this far into the lagoon.
"Ah!" said Billy, stroking down the rising hackles on the dog's back,
"there's a quick way out of it for you, little doggie, when the clock
strikes thirteen. One jump, and you'll never know what hurt you. You
won't jump, eh? You're foolish, in your brain, old boy. It'll be much
easier than starving to death."
"Still in the doldrums, Billy?" I asked.
"Who wouldn't be? But I didn't chase out here to swap glooms with you,
Uncle Dick. I wanted to ask you if you believe in this wild tale of the
Spaniards' buried treasure."
"I'll believe anything that will help to pass the time," I replied
evasively.
"Huh!" he said; "that is what you might call the retort meaningless.
Supposing there _was_ a treasure, and supposing you should stumble
across it: would it be yours?"
"Why not?"
"I didn't know. I was just asking for information. You wouldn't feel
obliged to chop it up into eighteen separate pieces and pass it
around--like a watermelon at a picnic?"
"Why should I?"
"Oh, just on general principles, I thought maybe; all for one and one
for all, and that sort."
With the miraculous discovery of the day--and Madeleine's rights--fresh
in mind, it seemed a moment in which to tread carefully.
"Finders are keepers, the world over, Billy," I said. "I am a poor man,
and I should probably hog the treasure if I should find it."
"That's better," he returned. "We're all growing so desperately inhuman
that a fellow can't tell where to draw the line any more. If I find
the Spaniards' gold, you needn't expect me to whack up with you. I'm
going to put my feet in the trough and keep 'em there. Come on, old
doggie; let's go and hunt us a hole to burrow in. There's another day
coming, or if there isn't, we shan't have anything more to worry about."
He got up to go back to the camp, whistling to the dog as he moved off.
For the second time the bull pup braced himself, showing his teeth and
growling a bit, and this time there was no disturbance in the lagoon to
account for it. But Billy whistled again and the dog started to follow
his master, looking back from time to time, as if he went reluctantly;
and once more I wondered what he saw or heard or smelled.
As it fell out, the answer to this wondering query did not keep me
waiting. Billy Grisdale's shadowy figure had barely disappeared in
the down-shore distance when another and much more substantial one
broke out of the jungle just behind me, and I got upon my feet to find
Ingerson confronting me.
"What's all this talk about things being buried?" he demanded morosely.
"Listening, were you?" said I, taking small pains to keep the contempt
out of my voice.
He threw himself down on the sand and sat with his arms resting on his
knees and his hands locked together.
"I'm in hell, Preble," he muttered. Then he unclasped his hands and
held one of them up. "Look at that."
Dark as it was I could see the upheld hand shaking like a leaf in the
wind.
"What is the matter with you?" I asked.
"You know well enough; I'm over the edge. Van Dyck's killing me by
inches. He wants to kill me."
"Liquor, you mean?"
His answer was a groan. "I haven't had one good drink in three
days--not enough to make one good drink. It's got me, Preble. I didn't
know. I've always had it when I wanted it. If you've got a heart in
you, you'll show me where he's hiding the stuff. I'll go mad if you
don't."
I wanted to tell him that it would be small loss to the rest of us if
he should, but I didn't. As a person who is strictly the architect of
his own misery, a drink maniac may command little commiseration, but
his sufferings are none the less real, for all that. Sitting there on
the sands, with the fires of the drunkard's Gehenna burning inside of
him, Ingerson was a pitiable object. Still, remembering some of the
brutal things that had been charged up to his account, and not less
the cold-blooded bargain he was seeking to drive with Holly Barclay, I
didn't waste much sympathy upon him.
"It is a good time in which to show that you are a human being, and not
a beast, Ingerson," I said. "Thus far, you've been merely a clog on
the wheels, and the day is coming, if, indeed, it isn't already here,
when those of us who are men will have to remember that there are nine
helpless women on this island whose wants must be supplied before ours
are."