The fog held for two days. On the third morning Jeremy, on his knees by
the hearth fire, was squinting down the bright barrel of a flintlock. He
had been quiet for a long time. Bob felt the tenseness of the situation
himself, but he could not understand the other's absolute silence. He
scowled as he sat on the floor, and savagely drove a long-bladed
hunting-knife into the cracks between the hewn planks. At length a low
whistle from Jeremy caused him to pause and look up quickly.
"What is it?" he asked.
A look of excitement was growing in Jeremy's face.
"Say, Bob!" he exclaimed, after a second or two. "I've just remembered
something that I've been trying to bring to mind ever since we crossed
the island. You know the sign we saw up by the spring? Well, somewhere,
once before, I knew I'd seen the word 'Watter' spelled that way. So have
you--do you remember?"
Bob shook his head slowly. Then a look of comprehending wonder came into
his eyes. "Yes," he cried. "It was on that old chart in Pharaoh Daggs'
chest!"
"Right," said Jeremy. "And now that I think about it, I believe this is
the very island! Let's see--the bay was shaped this way----" He had
seized a charred stick from the hearth and was drawing on the floor.
"Two narrow points, with quite a stretch of water inside--a rounded cove
up here, and a mitten-shaped cove over here. And the anchor was
drawn--wait a minute--right here. Why, Bob, look here! That's the same
rounded cove with the beach where the sloop anchored that night they got
me!"
Bob could hardly contain himself. "I remember!" he said. "And the dot,
with the word 'Watter' was one and a half finger-joints northeast of the
bay. Let's see, the bay itself was about four joints long, wasn't it? Or
a little over? Anyhow, that would put the spring about--here."
"Allowing for our not being able to remember exactly the shape of the
bay," Jeremy put in, "that's just where the spring should be. Bob, this
is the island! And now that cross-mark between the two straight
lines--two finger-joints northwest of the anchorage-cove, it was. That's
just about here." He marked the spot on the floor with his stick.
"Now we've got it all down. And if that cross-mark shows where the
treasure is----" Jeremy paused and looked at Bob, his eyes shining.
"Where would that be--up on the hill somewhere?" asked Bob breathlessly.
"About three-quarters of a mile south of the spring--right on the
ridge," Jeremy answered.
"When shall we start?" Bob asked, his voice husky with excitement.
"Wait a bit," counselled Jeremy. "We daren't tell father or Tom, for
they'd think it just a wild-goose chase, and we'd have to promise not to
leave the cabin. You know it _is_ an improbable sort of yarn. Besides,
we'd better go careful. Do you know who I think is at the head of that
crew, over in the creek?"
"Who?" whispered Bob.
Jeremy's face was pale as he leaned close.
"Pharaoh Daggs!" He said the name beneath his breath, almost as if he
feared that the man with the broken nose might hear him. And now for the
first time he told Bob of the schooner that had slipped past in the dark
that night in the East River.
"You're right, Jeremy," Bob agreed. "He'd lose no time getting up here
if he could find a craft to carry him. You don't suppose they've found
Brig's treasure yet, do you?" he added in dismay.
"They can't have reached here more than a day before us," Jeremy
replied. "And if they haven't it already aboard, they won't be able to
do anything while this fog holds. If it should lift tomorrow, we'll
have a chance to scout around up there. But don't say a word to father."
That night the boys slept little, for both were in a fever of
expectation. They were disappointed in the morning to see the solid wall
of fog still surrounding the cabin. But Jeremy, sniffing the air like
the true woodsman that he was, announced that there would be a change of
weather before night, and set about rubbing the barrel of the flintlock
till it gleamed. The day dragged slowly by. At last, about three in the
afternoon, a slight wind from the northeast sprang up, and the wreaths
of vapor began to drift away seaward.
Luckily for the boys' plans, both Tom and his father were inside the
sheep-stockade when Bob took the pistols, powder and shot down from the
wall, and with Jeremy went quietly forth.
Before the mist had wholly cleared, they were well into the woods,
climbing toward the summit of the ridge. Each kept a careful watch
about, for they feared the possibility that a guard might have been set
to observe movements at the cabin.
They reached the top without incident, however, and turned westward
along the watershed. They were increasingly careful now, for if the
pirates were dependent on the spring for their water, some of them might
pass close by at any moment. Bob, who was almost as expert a hunter as
Jeremy, followed noiselessly in the track of the New England boy, moving
like a shadow from tree to tree.
So they progressed for fifteen minutes or more. Then Jeremy paused and
beckoned to Bob, whispering that they should separate a short distance
so as to cover a wider territory in their search. They went on, Bob on
the north slope, Jeremy on the south, moving cautiously and examining
every rock and tree for some blaze that might indicate the whereabouts
of the treasure.
More minutes passed. The sun was already low, and Jeremy began to think
about turning toward home. Just then he came to the brink of a narrow
chasm in the ledge. Hardly more than a cleft it was, three or four feet
wide at its widest part, and extending deep down between the walls of
rock. He was about to jump over and proceed when his eye caught a
momentary gleam in the obscurity at the bottom of the crevice. He peered
downward for a second, then stood erect, waving to Bob with both arms.
The other boy caught his signal and came rapidly through the trees to
the spot, hurrying faster as he saw the excitement in Jeremy's face.
"What--what have you found?" he gasped under his breath.
Jeremy was already wriggling his way down between the smooth rock walls,
bracing himself with back and knees. Within a few seconds he had
reached the bottom, some ten feet below. It was a sloping, uneven floor
of earth, lighted dimly from above and from the south, where the ledge
shelved off down the hillside. The dirt was black and damp, undisturbed
for years save by the feeble pushing of some pale, seedling plant.
Jeremy groped aimlessly at first, then, as his eyes became accustomed to
the half-light, peered closely into the crevices along either side.
Bob leaned over the edge, pointing. "Back and to the left!" he
whispered. Jeremy turned as directed, felt along the earth and finally
clutched at something that seemed to glitter with a yellow light. He
turned his face upward and Bob read utter disappointment in his eyes.
The gleaming something which he held aloft was nothing but a bit of
discolored mica that had reflected the faint light.
Bob almost groaned aloud as he looked at it. Then he took off his belt
and passed an end of it down for Jeremy to climb up by. The latter took
hold half-heartedly, and was commencing the ascent when his moccasined
foot slipped on a low, arching hump in the damp earth. He went down on
one knee and as it struck the ground there was a faint hollow thud.
Astonished, the boy remained in a kneeling posture and felt about
beneath him with his hands.
"What is it?" whispered Bob.
Jeremy stood erect again. "Some kind of old, slippery wet wood," he
answered. "It feels like--like a barrel!"
"I'm coming down!" said the Delaware boy, and casting a cautious look
around, he descended into the depths of the crevice.
With their hands and hunting-knives both boys went to work feverishly to
unearth the wooden object. A few moments of breathless labor laid bare
the side and part of one end of a heavily-built, oaken keg.
"Now maybe we can lift it out," said Jeremy, and taking a strong grip of
the edge, they heaved mightily together. It stirred a bare fraction of
an inch in its bed. "Again!" panted Jeremy, and they made another
desperate try. It was of no avail. The keg seemed to weigh hundreds of
pounds.
Mopping his forehead with his sleeve, Bob stood up and looked his
companion in the face. "Well," he grinned, "the heavier the better!"
"Right!" Jeremy agreed. "But how'll we get it home? We don't dare chop
it open--too much noise--or set fire to it, for they'd see the smoke.
Besides it's too damp to burn. Here--I'll see what's in it, yet!"
He crouched at the end of the barrel, whetted his hunting-knife on his
palm a few times, and began to cut swiftly at a crack between two
staves. Gradually the blade worked into the wood, opening a long narrow
slot as Jeremy whittled away first at one side, then at the other. From
time to time either he or Bob would stoop, trembling with excitement to
peer through the crack, but it was pitch-dark inside the barrel.
Jeremy kept at his task without rest, and as his knife had more play,
the shavings he cut from the sides of the opening grew thicker and
thicker. First he, then Bob, would try, every few seconds, to thrust a
fist through the widening hole.
At length Bob's hand, which was a trifle smaller than Jeremy's, squeezed
through. There was a breathless instant, while he groped within the keg,
and then, with a struggle he pulled his hand forth. In his fingers he
clutched a broad yellow disc.
"Gold!"
They gasped the word together.
Bob's face was awe-struck. "It's full of 'em--full of pieces like this,"
he whispered, "right up to within four inches of the top!"
They bent over the huge gold coin. The queer characters of the
inscription, cut in deep relief, were strange to both boys. Jeremy had
seen Spanish doubloons and the great double _moidores_ of Portugal, but
never such a piece as this. It was nearly two inches across and thick
and heavy in proportion.
One after another Bob drew out dozens of the shining coins, and they
filled their pockets with them till they felt weighted down. At length
Jeremy, looking up, was startled to see that the sun had set and
darkness was rapidly settling over the island. They threw dirt over the
barrel, then with all possible speed clambered forth, and taking up
their guns, made their way home as quietly as they had come.