AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.
The landlord of the Cliff House was a man who attended to his own
business to the exclusion of that of others, and he did not trouble
himself any further about the affairs of his guest, though his curiosity
was somewhat excited at first. Leopold "was not happy" in being obliged
to conceal his thoughts and actions from his father; but then Mr.
Bennington did not question him in regard to her conduct after he was a
little accustomed to the ways of Miss Liverage. The young man did not
place much reliance upon the statements of the nurse. He had heard and
read about "money-diggers" before. He was familiar with the story of
Wolfert Webber, who had dug over the whole of his cabbage garden in
search of hidden treasure, and he had no little contempt for those who
allowed themselves to be carried away by such vain and silly illusions.
While he had no doubt that Miss Liverage was in earnest, he had little
confidence in the existence of the hidden treasure at High Rock.
Though Leopold did not intend to become a Wolfert Webber, and dig over
half a mile of beach under the cliffs, he admitted to himself the
possibility of the existence of the treasure. He had promised the nurse
that he would search for the money, and he did so; but he felt that the
task was like "looking for a needle in a hay-mow," and he abandoned it
before he had made himself ridiculous in his own estimation. He wrote a
letter to the nurse, who had given him her address in New York,
informing her of the ill success of his endeavors. She answered the
letter, giving him further instructions, saying that the money was
buried not more than a foot below the surface of the beach, and near a
projecting rock. Probably when she was less excited than during her
visit to Rockhaven, her memory had recalled some of the statements of
Harvey Barth; for certainly she had said nothing so definite as this
when she was with Leopold.
The young man, aided by these directions, which certainly were not very
precise, made another attempt to find the treasure. There was more than
one "projecting rock," and he dug over all the sand and gravel to the
depth of a foot in the vicinity of every part of the cliff which
answered to the description given. He worked very hard, and the boatmen
who saw him at his labors wondered if he expected to find clams so far
up on the beach.
He found neither clams nor money; and when he had finished the search he
was more than ever dissatisfied with himself for being led away by such
a chimera. He wrote to Miss Liverage again, informing her of the
continued failure of his efforts, and declaring that he would not "fool
with the matter" any longer. The nurse did not answer his last letter
and it was evident that she too had "lost hope." Leopold never heard
anything more from her or about her, and in a few weeks he had forgotten
all about the "hidden treasure of High Rock," for he did not believe
there was any treasure there, and it was not pleasant for him to
remember that he had made a fool of himself.
Leopold and Stumpy went to school together during the winter, and
continued to be as good friends as ever. Mrs. Wormbury struggled with
her hard lot, and Squire Moses still threatened to take possession of
the cottage. The Cliff House prospered in its small way, and the
landlord still nursed his grand project of having a big hotel in
Rockhaven. During the next season Leopold did very well with his boat,
both with the fishing and with the "jobs" from the hotel. He saved his
money and still kept it in the iron safe of Herr Schlager, who was as
proud of and as devoted as ever to his nephew. In the spring, the
question for the name of the new boat came up again, and the skipper was
prepared to settle the question. Among the guests at the hotel in the
summer, was the family of the Hon. Franklin Hamilton, a wealthy merchant
of New York, who was a native of Rockhaven. They had spent a few days at
the Cliff House for several seasons, though it was painfully apparent to
the landlord that his accommodations were not satisfactory to his
distinguished and wealthy guests, for the time they spent at the house
was very brief. The family consisted of Mr. Hamilton, his wife and an
only daughter. They always wanted to sail when they came to Rockhaven,
but Ben Chipman's boat did not suit them. Leopold did not buy his sloop
till after they had gone; but he congratulated himself upon the fact
that when they came the next season he should be able to sail them in a
boat which was good enough for any nabob in the land.
Being in funds in the spring, he fitted up the sloop very nicely, and
could not help anticipating the pleasure it would afford him to sail the
Hamiltons, especially the daughter, who, at the age of fourteen, was a
very pretty girl. Revelling in these delightful thoughts, it suddenly
occurred to him that he might give the young lady's name to the boat. It
was certainly a very pretty name for so jaunty a craft as the sloop. It
was Rosabel. In another week it appeared in gilt letters on the stern of
the boat. In the summer the family came again. Rosabel was taller and
prettier than ever, and Leopold actually realized all his pleasant and
romantic anticipations, as he sailed her and her parents about the bay.
Mr. Hamilton engaged the boat for every day during his stay, which was
prolonged to a whole week, or twice as long as he usually remained; for
Rosabel was so pleased with the water excursions that her father
extended his visit at her desire. Probably Leopold had as much romance
in his nature as most young men of seventeen, and after his first full
season in the Rosabel, the beautiful face and form of Miss Hamilton were
a very distinct image in his mind, often called up, and often the
subject of his meditations, though he could not help thinking of the
wide gulf that yawned between the daughter of the rich merchant and the
son of the humble landlord of a small hotel.
In the fall of the year, Leopold observed that his father was making
frequent visits to Squire Moses Wormbury; and it soon came out that the
rich man was to loan the landlord six thousand dollars, to enable the
latter to make his contemplated improvements upon the hotel. The squire
was to have this sum on the first of January, and though Mr. Bennington
did not want it for several months, he consented to take it at that
time; for Squire Moses would not allow it to remain a single month
uninvested. The landlord was confident that he could make money enough
on the new hotel to pay off the mortgage in three years. As soon as the
snow melted in the spring, the work was commenced. The old portion of
the hotel was partly torn to pieces, and for a time business was very
good at the Island Hotel, for the Cliff House was closed.
Both the landlord and his son, pleasurably excited by the alterations in
progress, worked with their own hands. Among other changes, the parlor
chimney was taken down, and Leopold took a hand in the job, enjoying the
operation of tumbling down to the cellar great masses of brick.
"Hold on, Le," shouted the mason who was at work with him, when they had
removed the chimney as far as the level of the parlor floor. "What's
that?"
The mason pointed to a bundle which was lodged in an opening back of the
flue of the Franklin stove that had stood in the parlor. It was covered
with bricks and lime dust, but the mason brought it to the surface with
his iron bar.
"I know what it is," exclaimed Leopold, as he picked up the package, and
knocked it several times against a partition in order to remove the soot
and dust from it.
It was the oil-cloth containing the diary of Harvey Barth.
Leopold was somewhat excited by the discovery, and all the incidents of
Miss Sarah Liverage's visit to the hotel came back fresh to his mind,
though they had occurred eighteen months before.
"What is it?" asked the mason, whose curiosity was excited by the event.
"It is a book that belonged to Harvey Barth, the steward of the Waldo,
which was wrecked off High Rock," replied Leopold. "I will take care of
it."
"But how came it in the chimney?" asked the workman.
"He put it in the flue of the fireplace, and it tumbled down."
"What did he put it in there for?"
"Because there was no closet in the room, and he was a very queer
fellow. He is dead now."
"What are you going to do with the book, then?"
"Send it to his friends, if I can find where they are."
Leopold carried the diary to his room, in a part of the house which was
not to be disturbed, and locked it up in his chest. He wanted to read
the portion which related to the wreck of the Waldo, and the burying of
the money, if such an event had occurred, of which he had some grave
doubts. But he could not stop then, for he was doing a man's work for
his father, and his conscience would not allow him to waste his time.
The mason asked more questions when Leopold returned to his work, and
they were answered as definitely as the circumstances would permit. The
young man examined the construction of the chimney, and found another
flue besides that of the Franklin stove, into which the diary had
fallen. It had formerly served for a fireplace in an adjoining
apartment, and had been bricked up before the landlord purchased the
estate. The Franklin stove, which was merely an iron fire place set into
the chimney, had the less direct flue of the two, so that the package
had fallen where it was found.
During the rest of the day, Leopold's thoughts were fixed upon the
long-lost diary, for which Miss Liverage and himself had vainly
searched. Doubtless she would claim the diary, if it was found; but had
she any better right to it than its present possessor? Leopold
considered this question with no little interest. The secret of the
hidden treasure was certainly in his keeping, and after the "trade" made
between them, he felt that she had some rights in the matter which he
was bound to respect. But the affair was no longer a secret; for after
the "humbug was exploded," as Leopold expressed it, he told his father
all about it. The landlord only laughed at it, and insisted that the
nurse was crazy; and her excited conduct at the hotel rather confirmed
his conclusion.
The result of Leopold's reflections during the day was a determination
to write to Miss Liverage again, if he found anything in the diary which
would enable him to discover the hidden treasure. The day seemed longer
to him than usual, so anxious was he to examine the pages of the diary.
When at last his work was done, and he had eaten his supper, he
hastened to his chamber, and opened the oil-cloth package. He was
greatly excited, as most people are when long-continued doubts are to be
settled. In a few moments he would know whether or not Miss Liverage was
crazy, and whether or not there was any foundation to the story of the
hidden treasure. He locked the door of his room before he opened the
package, for he felt now that the secret was not his own exclusive
property. If there was twelve hundred dollars in gold buried in the
sands under High Rock which belonged to nobody, he felt bound in honor
by his agreement with the nurse to make the division of it with her, in
accordance with the conditions of the contract.
He desired very much to speak to his father about the diary; but he did
not feel at liberty to do so. It did not appear that the mason with whom
Leopold was at work had told Mr. Bennington, or any person, of the
finding of the package. After his questions had been answered, he seemed
to feel no further interest in the diary, and probably forgot all about
it before he went home to dinner. The discovery of it did not seem to
him to be a matter of any importance, and Leopold kept his information
all to himself.
[Illustration: LEOPOLD MAKES A DISCOVERY. Page 149.]
Removing the string from the package, the young man proceeded to unwrap
the oil-cloth, shaking the soot and lime dust into the fireplace as he
did so. The diary came out clean and uninjured from its long
imprisonment in the chimney. Leopold's agitation increased as he
continued the investigation, and he could hardly control himself as he
opened the book and looked at the large, clear, round hand of the
schoolmaster. The writing was as plain as print.
He turned the leaves without stopping to read anything, till he came to
the record of the last day whose events Harvey Barth had written in the
book; but those pages contained only an account of his illness, and a
particular description of his symptoms, which might have interested a
physician, but did not secure the attention of the young man. He turned
back to the narrative of the loss of the Waldo. It was very minute in
its details, and contained much "fine writing," such as the editor of
the newspaper had struck out in the manuscript for publication.
Leopold had read the account in the newspaper, and he skipped what he
had seen in print, till the name of "Wallbridge" attracted his
attention. The first mention of the passenger that he saw was made when
he went into the cabin, after his recovery from the effects of the
lightning, and returned with something in his hand. The reader followed
the narrative, which was already quite familiar to him, till he came to
the landing of the party in the whale-boat on the beach; and at this
point he found something which Harvey Barth had not written in his
newspaper article, or mentioned during his stay at the hotel. Leopold
read as follows:--
"As soon as we had landed on the beach, Wallbridge told me he had twelve
hundred dollars in gold, which he had earned by his two years' work in
Cuba. By the light of the flashes of lightning I saw the bag in his
hand. It was an old shot-bag, tied up with a piece of white tape.
Wallbridge said he was afraid the bag might cost him his life, if he
held on to it, and I suppose he thought he might have to swim, and the
weight of the gold would sink him.
"I have figured up the weight of twelve hundred dollars in gold, and I
found it would be almost five pounds and a half Troy, or nearly four and
a half Avoirdupois. I don't blame him now for wanting to get rid of it;
but I did not think before I figured it up, that the money would weigh
so much. Four and a half pounds is not much for a man to carry on land,
but I should not want to be obliged to swim with this weight in my
trousers' pocket, even when I was in good health.
"Wallbridge said he would bury the money in the sand, under a projecting
rock in the cliff, so that he could come and get it when he wanted it.
Just then a flash of lightning came, and I looked up at the cliff under
which he stood. I saw the projecting rock, and it looked to me, in the
blaze of the lightning, just like a coffin, from where I stood. It
seemed to me then just like a sign from Heaven that I should soon need a
coffin, if the sea did not carry me off; but if the sign meant anything,
it did not apply to me, but to Wallbridge, who in less than half an hour
afterwards was swallowed up in the waves. I am sorry for him, and I only
hope he had not done anything very bad, for I could not help thinking he
had committed some crime."
Leopold did not see why the writer should think so; but then he had not
read the preceding pages of the diary, which Harvey Barth had written
just before the passenger came to the galley to light his pipe. The
narrative, after a digression of half a page of reflections upon the
unhappy fate of Wallbridge, continued:--
"Wallbridge got down on his knees, and scooped out a hole not more than
a foot deep in the sand, and dropped the bag into it. I looked up at the
projecting rock again, when another flash of lightning came, and there
was the coffin, just as plain as though it had been made for one of us.
It was not a whole coffin, but only the head end of one. It seemed to
project and overhang the beach at an angle of about forty-five degrees,
and a man could have sat down on the upper end, which was about twenty
feet high. The shape of it startled me so that I did not think any more
of what the passenger was doing, though I saw him raking the sand into
the hole with his hands. I thought the thing was a bad sign, and I did
not like to look at it, though I could not help doing so when the
lightning flashed. I walked along to get out of the way of it, and
passed the place where Wallbridge was at work. When I looked up at the
cliff again, I could not see the coffin any more. There was the
projecting rock, but on this side it did not look at all like a coffin.
"I walked along to the end of the beach, where an angle in the cliff
carried it out into the water. I expected every moment to be carried off
by the sea or to be crushed against the rocks. I did not expect to save
myself, and I could not help feeling that the coffin I had seen was for
me. Just then a flash of lightning showed me a kind of opening in the
cliff, near the angle."
Leopold knew this part of the story by heart, and had often passed up
and down through the ravine, which Harvey Barth described in his diary
with as much precision as though the locality had contained a gold mine.
"A projecting rock shaped like a coffin!" said the reader, as he raised
his eyes from the book to consider what he had read. "I don't remember
any such rock, though there may be such a one there. I must go down to
High Rock in a thunder-storm, and then perhaps it will look to me as it
did to him."
But the nurse was right, after all; there was a solid foundation to the
story she had told, though she had not mentioned any rock shaped like
the head of a coffin. Probably Harvey Barth, who at the time he told the
nurse the story had expected to get well enough to go to his home, had
not intended to describe the locality of the hidden treasure so that she
could find it, but only to assure her that he should have money with
which to reward her, if she took good care of him during his sickness.
Leopold read the account of the burying of the money again; but he could
not recall any rock answering to the description in the book. He had dug
up the sand under every projecting rock that overhung the beach, to the
depth of a foot, without finding the treasure. By the death of every
person on board of the brig except Harvey Barth, the knowledge of the
acts of Wallbridge was necessarily confined to him. If the money had
ever been buried on the beach, Leopold was confident it was there now.
No one could have removed it, for no one could have suspected its
existence.
Faithful to the agreement he had made, Leopold wrote a letter that
evening to Miss Liverage, directing it to the address she had given him.
The letter contained but a few lines, merely intimating that he had
important business with her. The young man was now anxious to visit the
beach under High Rock, for the purpose of identifying the mortuary
emblem which had so strongly impressed the author of the journal, in the
lightning and the hurricane; but he could not be spared from his work,
and it was several months before he was able to verify the statements in
the diary.
Weeks and months passed away, and no answer to his letter came. In June
he wrote another letter, to the "Superintendent of Bellevue Hospital,
New York City," in which Harvey Barth died, requesting information in
regard to Miss Sarah Liverage. A reply soon came, to the effect that the
nurse had married one of her patients, and now lived somewhere in
Oregon, the writer did not know where.