not observe that Tom Chist had come up and was standing there. It was
the white man with the long plaited queue and the gold ear-rings that
spoke to him. "Boy, what do you want here, boy?" he said, in a rough
hoarse voice. "Where d'ye come from?" And then dropping his end of the
chest, and without giving Tom time to answer, he pointed off down the
beach, and said, "You'd better be going about your own business, if you
know what's good for you; and don't you come back, or you'll find what
you don't want waiting for you."
Tom saw in a glance that the pirates were all looking at him, and then,
without saying a word, he turned and walked away. The man who had spoken
to him followed him threateningly for some little distance, as though to
see that he had gone away as he was bidden to do. But presently he
stopped, and Tom hurried on alone, until the boat and the crew and all
were dropped away behind and lost in the moonlight night. Then he
himself stopped also, turned, and looked back whence he had come.
There had been something very strange in the appearance of the men he
had just seen, something very mysterious in their actions, and he
wondered what it all meant, and what they were going to do. He stood,
for a little while thus looking and listening. He could see nothing, and
could hear only the sound of distant talking. What were they doing on
the lonely shore thus at night? Then, following a sudden impulse, he
turned and cut off across the sand humps, skirting around inland, but
keeping pretty close to the shore, his object being to spy upon them,
and to watch what they were about from the back of the sand hummocks
that fronted the beach.
He had gone along some distance in his circuitous return when he became
aware of the sound of voices that seemed to be drawing closer to him as
he came toward the speakers. He stopped and stood listening, and
instantly, as he stopped, the voices stopped also. He crouched there
silently in the bright glimmering moonlight, surrounded by the silent
stretches of sand, and the stillness seemed to press upon him like a
heavy hand. Then suddenly the sound of a man's voice began again, and as
Tom listened he could hear some one slowly counting. "Ninety-one," the
voice began, "ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five,
ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one
hundred and one"--the slow monotonous count coming nearer and nearer to
him--"one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four,"
and so on in its monotonous reckoning.
[Illustration: "AND TWENTY-ONE, AND TWENTY-TWO."]
Suddenly he saw three heads appear above the sand hill, so close to him
that he crouched down quickly with a keen thrill, close beside the
hummock near which he stood. His first fear was that they might have
seen him in the moonlight; but they had not, and his heart rose again as
the counting voice went steadily on. "One hundred and twenty," it was
saying--"and twenty-one, and twenty-two, and twenty-three, and
twenty-four," and then he who was counting came out from behind the
little sandy rise into the white and open level of shimmering
brightness.
It was the man with the cane whom Tom had seen some time before--the
Captain of the party who had landed. He carried his cane under his arm
now, and was holding his lantern close to something that he held in his
hand, and upon which he looked narrowly as he walked with a slow and
measured tread in a perfectly straight line across the sand, counting
each step as he took it. "And twenty-five, and twenty-six, and
twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty."
Behind him walked two other figures; one was the half-naked negro, the
other the man with the plaited queue and ear-rings whom Tom had seen
lifting the chest out of the boat. Now they were carrying the heavy box
between them, laboring through the sand with shuffling tread as they
bore it onward.
As he who was counting pronounced the word "thirty," the two men set the
chest down on the sand with a grunt, the white man panting and blowing
and wiping his sleeve across his forehead. And immediately he who
counted took out a slip of paper and marked something down upon it. They
stood there for a long time, during which Tom lay behind the sand
hummock watching them, and for a while the silence was uninterrupted. In
the perfect stillness Tom could hear the washing of the little waves
beating upon the distant beach, and once the far-away sound of a laugh
from one of those who stood by the boat.
One, two, three minutes passed, and then the men picked up the chest and
started on again; and then again the other man began his counting.
"Thirty and one, and thirty and two, and thirty and three, and thirty
and four"--he walked straight across the level open, still looking
intently at that which he held in his hand--"and thirty and five, and
thirty and six, and thirty and seven," and so on, until the three
figures disappeared in the little hollow between the two sand hills on
the opposite side of the open, and still Tom could hear the sound of the
counting voice in the distance.
Just as they disappeared behind the hill there was a sudden faint flash
of light; and by-and-by as Tom lay still listening to the counting he
heard, after a long interval, a far-away muffled rumble of distant
thunder. He waited for a while, and then arose and stepped to the top of
the sand hummock behind which he had been lying. He looked all about
him, but there was no one else to be seen. Then he stepped down from the
hummock, and followed in the direction which the pirate Captain and the
two men carrying the chest had gone. He crept along cautiously, stopping
now and then to make sure that he still heard the counting voice, and
when it ceased he lay down upon the sand, and waited until it began
again.
Presently, so following the pirates, he saw the three figures again in
the distance, and, skirting around back of a hill of sand covered with
coarse sedge-grass, he came to where he overlooked a little open level
space gleaming white in the moonlight.
The three had been crossing the level of sand, and were now not more
than twenty-five paces from him. They had again set down the chest, upon
which the white man with the long queue and the gold ear-rings had
seated to rest himself, the negro standing close beside him. The moon
shone as bright as day and full upon his face. It was looking directly
at Tom Chist, every line as keen cut with white lights and black shadows
as though it had been calved in ivory and jet. He sat perfectly
motionless, and Tom drew back with a start, almost thinking he had been
discovered. He lay silent, his heart beating heavily in his throat; but
there was no alarm, and presently he heard the counting begin again, and
when he looked once more, he saw they were going away straight across
the little open. A soft sliding hillock of sand lay directly in front of
them. They did not turn aside, but went straight over it, the leader
helping himself up the sandy slope with his cane, still counting, and
still keeping his eyes fixed upon that which he held in his hand. Then
they disappeared again behind the white crest on the other side.
So Tom followed them cautiously until they had gone almost half a mile
inland. When next he saw them clearly it was from a little sedgy rise
which looked down like the crest of a bowl upon the floor of sand below.
Upon this smooth white floor the moon beat with almost dazzling
brightness.
The white man who had helped to carry the chest was now kneeling, busied
at some work, though what it was Tom at first could not see. He was
whittling the point of a stick into a long wooden peg, and when,
by-and-by, he had finished what he was about, he arose and stepped to
where he who seemed to be the Captain had stuck his cane upright into
the ground as though to mark some particular spot. He drew the cane out
of the sand, thrusting the stick down in its stead. Then he drove the
long peg down with a wooden mallet which the negro handed to him. The
sharp rapping of the mallet upon the top of the peg sounded loud in the
perfect stillness, and Tom lay watching and wondering what it all meant.
The man, with quick repeated blows, drove the peg further and further
down into the sand until it showed only two or three inches above the
surface. As he finished his work there was another faint flash of light,
and by-and-by another smothered rumble of thunder, and Tom, as he looked
out toward the westward, saw the silver rim of the round and sharply
outlined thunder cloud rising slowly up into the sky and pushing the
other and broken drifting clouds before it.
The two white men were now stooping over the peg, the negro man watching
them. Then presently the man with the cane started straight away from
the peg, carrying the end of a measuring-line with him, the other end of
which the man with the plaited queue held against the top of the peg.
When the pirate Captain had reached the end of the measuring-line he
marked a cross upon the sand, and then again they measured out another
stretch of space.
So they measured a distance five times over, and then, from where Tom
lay, he could see the man with the queue drive another peg just at the
foot of a sloping rise of sand that beyond swept up into a tall white
dune marked sharp and clear against the night sky behind. As soon as the
man with the plaited queue had driven the second peg into the ground
they began measuring again, and so, still measuring, disappeared in
another direction which took them in behind the sand dune, where Tom no
longer could see what they were doing.
The negro still sat by the chest where the two had left him, only now he
was looking all about him, and so bright and strong was the moonlight
that from where he lay Tom could see the glint of it twinkling in the
whites of his eyeballs.
Presently from behind the hill there came, for the third time, the sharp
rapping sound of the mallet driving still another peg, and then after a
while the two pirates emerged from behind the sloping whiteness into the
space of moonlight again.
They came direct to where the chest lay, and the white man and the black
man lifting it once more, they walked away across the level of open
sand, and so on behind the edge of the hill and out of Tom's sight.
III.
Tom Chist could no longer see what the pirates were doing, neither did
he dare to cross over the open space of sand that now lay between them
and him. He lay there speculating as to what they were about, and
meantime the storm cloud was rising higher and higher above the horizon,
with louder and louder mutterings of thunder following each dull flash
from out the cloudy cavernous depths. In the silence he could hear an
occasional click as of some iron implement, and he opined that the
pirates were burying the chest, though just where they were at work he
could neither see nor tell.
Still he lay there watching and listening, and by-and-by a puff of warm
air blew across the sand, and a thumping tumble of louder thunder leaped
from out the belly of the storm cloud, which every minute was coming
nearer and nearer. Still Tom Chist lay watching.
Suddenly, almost unexpectedly to him, the three figures reappeared from
behind the sand hill, the pirate Captain leading the way, and the negro
and white man following close behind him. They had gone just about
half-way across the white sandy level between the hill and the hummock
behind which Tom Chist lay, when the white man stopped and bent over as
though to tie his shoe.
This brought the negro a few steps in front of his companion.
That which then followed happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so
swiftly, that Tom Chist had hardly time to realize what it all meant
before it was over. As the negro passed him the white man arose suddenly
and silently erect, and Tom Chist saw the white moonlight glint upon the
blade of a great case-knife which he now held in his hand. He took one,
two, silent catlike steps behind the unconscious negro. Then there was a
sweeping flash of the blade in the pallid light, and a blow, the thump
of which Tom could distinctly hear even from where he lay stretched out
upon the sand. There was an instant echoing yell from the black man, who
ran stumbling forward, who stopped, who regained his footing, and then
stood for an instant as though rooted to the spot.
Tom had distinctly seen the knife enter his back, and even thought that
he had seen the glint of the point as it came out from the breast.
[Illustration: THE PIRATE CAPTAIN LOOKED IMPASSIVELY ON.]
Meantime the pirate Captain had stopped, and now stood with his hand
resting upon his cane looking impassively on.
Then the black man started to run. The white man stood for a while
glaring after him; then he too started after his victim upon the run.
The black man was not very far from Tom when he staggered and fell. He
tried to rise, then fell forward again, and lay at length. At that
instant the first edge of the cloud cut across the moon, and there was a
sudden darkness; but in the silence Tom heard the sound of another blow
and a groan, and then presently a voice calling to the pirate Captain
that it was all over.
He saw the dim form of the Captain crossing the level sand, and then, as
the moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standing
over a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand.
[Illustration: OVER THE NEXT RISE HE RAN, AND SO ON OVER THE SLIDING,
SHIFTING GROUND, PANTING AND GASPING.]
Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollow
of sand that lay in the shadows below. Over the next rise he ran, and
down again into the next black hollow, and so on over the sliding,
shifting ground, panting and gasping. It seemed to him that he could
hear footsteps following, and in the dreadful terror that possessed him
he almost expected every instant to feel the cold knife-blade slide
between his own ribs in such a thrust from behind as he had seen given
to the poor black man.
How he ran the distance he never could tell, but it was almost as in a
dream that he found himself at last in front of old Matt Abrahamson's
cabin, gasping, panting, and sobbing for breath, his feet dragging
behind him like lumps of lead.
As he opened the door and dashed into the cabin there was a flash of
light, and as he slammed to the door behind him there was an instant
peal of thunder as though a great weight had been dropped upon the roof
of the sky, so that the doors and windows of the cabin rattled.
IV.
In Tom Chist's after recollections of that terrible time there was
always a memory of a dreadful night of waking dreams mingled with the
flashing lightning and the thunder of the storm that broke over the
cottage, a downpour and beat of the rain upon the roof that lasted in an
uproar of sound almost until morning.
Then came the dawning of a broad, wet daylight of sunshine that brought
no relief.
As soon as he was up he went out of doors into the young day wet with
the night's rain, and gazed out toward the offing where the mysterious
sloop had been lying the day before.
It was no longer there.
It was some comfort to Tom to know that it was gone, and that it had
taken those dreadful men with it. Were it not so he could not have
walked a step through the day without a horrible fear that he might meet
that dreadful man with the long shining knife.
He shuddered and gasped as a sudden keen memory of it all came upon him.
If he could only tell it to some one, he felt that it would be easier
for him to bear; but then there was no one to whom he dared tell it; he
could not tell it even to his foster-mother.
There was something especially trying to his troubled soul in his having
to go out fishing with old Abrahamson that day, and it seemed to him
that he suffered far more in the narrow, confined space of the little
boat than he would have done upon the wide land, where he could walk
about. His thoughts did not quit him for an instant. Even when he was
hauling in his wet and dripping line with a struggling fish at the end
of it a recurrent memory of what he had seen would suddenly come upon
him, and he would writhe and twist in spirit at the recollection. If he
could only tell about it, even to old Abrahamson, it would be some
relief. But when he looked at the old man's leathery face, at his
lantern jaws cavernously and stolidly chewing at a tobacco leaf, he felt
that it was not possible for him to confide his terrible secret to him.
When the boat touched the shore again he leaped scrambling to the beach,
with a feeling of unutterable relief.
As soon as his dinner was eaten he ran away to find the Dominie Jones,
and to pour out his troubles to those friendly ears.
He ran on, all the way from the hut to the parson's house, hardly
stopping once in all the way, and when he knocked at the door he was
panting and sobbing for breath.
The good man was sitting on the back-kitchen door-step smoking his long
pipe of tobacco out into the sunlight, while his wife within was
rattling around among the pans and dishes in preparation of their
supper, of which a strong porky smell already filled the air.
Tom Chist never could tell how he got his story told, but somehow, in
convulsive fits and starts, panting and gasping for breath, he did
manage to tell it all.
Parson Jones listened with breathless and perfect silence, broken only
now and then by inarticulate ejaculations.
"And I don't know why they should have killed the poor black man," said
Tom, as he finished his narrative.
"Why, that is very easy enough to understand," said the good reverend
man. "'Twas a treasure-box they buried, Tom. A treasure-box! A
treasure-box!"
In his excitement Mr. Jones had got up from his seat and was stamping up
and down, smoking out great clouds of tobacco smoke into the hot air.
"A treasure-box?" cried out Tom.
"Ay, a treasure-box! And that was why they killed the poor black man. He
was the only one, d'ye see, beside they two who knew the place where
'twas hid, and now that they've killed him out of the way, there's
nobody but themselves knows. The villains-- Tut, tut, look at that,
now!" In his excitement the dominie had snapped the stem of his
tobacco-pipe in two.
"Why, then," said Tom, "if that is indeed so, 'tis indeed a wicked,
bloody treasure, and fit to bring a curse upon anybody who finds it!"
"'Tis more like to bring a curse upon the soul who buried it," said
Parson Jones; "and it may be a blessing to him who finds it. But tell
me, Tom, do you think you could find the place again where 'twas hid?"
"I can't tell that," said Tom. "'Twas all in among the sand humps, d'ye
see, and it was at night into the bargain. Maybe we could find the marks
of their feet in the sand," he added.
"'Tis not likely," said the reverend gentleman, "for the storm last
night would have washed all that away."
"I could find the place," said Tom, "where the boat was drawn up on the
beach."
"Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "If
we can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there."
"If I was certain it was a treasure-box," cried out Tom Chist, "I would
rake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen for to find it."
"'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Reverend
Hillary Jones.
As Tom walked away home, it seemed not only as though a ton's weight of
gloom had been rolled away from his soul, but as though he could hardly
contain himself with the prospect of treasure-hunting the next day to
look forward to.
V.
The next day, early in the afternoon, Parson Jones and Tom Chist started
off together, Tom carrying a spade over his shoulder, and the reverend
gentleman walking along with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach
they talked together about the only thing they could talk about--the
treasure-box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman.
"About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and
about so wide and this deep."
"And what if it should be full of money, Tom?" said the reverend
gentleman, swinging his cane around and around in wide circles in the
excitement of the thought, as he strode along briskly. "Suppose it
should be full of money, what then?"
"By Moses!" said Tom Chist, hurrying to keep up with his friend, "I'd
buy a ship for myself, I would, and I'd trade to Injy and to Chiny to my
own boot, I would. Suppose the chist was all full of money, sir, and
suppose we should find it; would there be enough in it, d'ye suppose, to
buy a ship?"
"To be sure there would be enough, Tom; enough and to spare, and a good
big lump over."
"And if I find it 'tis mine to keep, is it, and no mistake?"
"Why, to be sure it would be yours!" cried out the parson, in a loud
voice. "To be sure it would be yours!" He knew nothing of the laws, but
the doubt of the question began at once to ferment in his brain, and he
strode along in silence for a while. "Whose else would it be but yours
if you find it?" he burst out. "Can you tell me that?"
"If ever I have a ship of my own," said Tom Chist, "and if ever I sail
to Injy in her, I'll fetch ye back the best chist of tea, sir, that ever
was fetched from Cochin Chiny."
Parson Jones burst out laughing. "Thankee, Tom," he said; "and I'll
thankee again when I get my chist of tea. But tell me, Tom, didst thou
ever hear of the farmer girl who counted her chickens before they were
hatched?"
It was thus they talked as they hurried along up the beach together, and
so came to a place at last where Tom stopped short and stood looking
about him. "'Twas just here," he said, "I saw the boat last night. Ay, I
know 'twas here, for I mind me of that bit of wreck yonder, and that
there was a tall stake drove in the sand just where yon stake stands."
Parson Jones put on his barnacles and went over to the stake toward
which Tom pointed. As soon as he had looked at it carefully, he called
out: "Why, Tom, this hath been just drove down into the sand. 'Tis a
brand-new stake of wood, and the pirates must have set it here
themselves as a mark, just as they drove the pegs you spoke about down
into the sand."
Tom came over and looked at the stake. It was a stout piece of oak
nearly two inches thick; it had been shaped with some care, and the top
of it had been painted red. He shook the stake and tried to move it, but
it had been driven or planted so deeply into the sand that he could not
stir it. "Ay, sir," he said, "it must have been set here for a mark, for
I'm sure 'twas not here yesterday or the day before." He stood looking
about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates' presence. At
some little distance away there was the corner of something white
sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap of paper,
and he pointed to it, calling out, "Yonder is a piece of paper, sir. I
wonder if they left that behind them?"
If he had only known the miraculous chance that placed that paper there,
he would not have walked over to it as careless as he did to pluck it up
out of the sand. There was only an inch of it showing, and if it had not
been for his sharp eyes, it would certainly have been overlooked and
passed by. The next wind-storm would have covered it up, and all that
afterward happened never would have happened. "Look, sir," he said, as
he struck the sand from it, "it hath writing on it."
"Let me see it," said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a little
more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand and
began conning it. "What's all this?" he said; "a whole lot of figures
and nothing else." And then he read aloud, "'Mark--S. SW. by S.' What
d'ye suppose that means, Tom?"
"I don't know, sir," said Tom. "But maybe we can understand it better if
we read on."
"'Tis all a great lot of figures," said Parson Jones, "without a grain
of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing
directions." And then he began reading again: "'Mark--S. SW. by S. 40,
72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271'--d'ye see, it must be sailing
directions--'299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571,
598'--what a lot of them there be--'626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876,
905, 940, 967. Peg. S.E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. SW. by S. 427 foot.
Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.'"
"What's that about a peg?" exclaimed Tom. "What's that about a peg? And
then there's something about digging too!" It was as though a sudden
light began shining into his brain. He felt himself growing quickly very
excited. "Read that over again, sir," he cried. "Why, sir, you remember
I told you they drove a peg into the sand. And don't they say to dig
close to it? Read it over again, sir--read it over again!"
"Peg?" said the good gentleman. "To be sure it was about a peg. Let's
look again. Yes, here it is. 'Peg. SE. by E. 269 foot.'"
"Ay!" cried out Tom Chist again, in great excitement. "Don't you
remember what I told you, sir, 269 foot? Sure that must be what I saw
'em measuring with the line."