THE PRIZE IS WON
“That’s queer!” Tempest exclaimed, coming to his side and prodding
aimlessly into the bank of sand with his foot. “It must be some poor
beggar who died here after the _Hatteras_ came to grief.”
“Sure to be,” agreed the boy, quietly. “I wonder if he――if it happened
when he was alone. Why, here’s a piece of timber――a beam!”
He scooped the sand away with his hands, and revealed another beam
running parallel with the first one.
“It looks like a hut that has been covered over with sand,” said the
boy.
“That’s it, sure enough,” agreed Tempest. “I wonder how long this chap
existed after he was marooned. Ugh! It’s gruesome. Let’s get back on
board.”
They found the _Nautilus_ had dragged her anchor in the storm and
nearly been beached; but she was unharmed, and they soon had her back
in her old moorings. Shortly after midnight the trio were asleep, with
only the moon to watch peacefully over the dead, the living, and the
scene of Tai-o-Vai’s unsolved mystery. Dave slept fitfully, however,
the events of the last few days crowding into his brain every time he
awoke. He tossed and turned in his narrow bunk, thinking of what might
have been the fate of Flagg in the storm, wondering when he would set
foot in Brooklyn again, guessing what secret the skeleton might reveal
if it could but speak, and above all trying to imagine what could have
happened to the treasure that had vanished from the _Hatteras_, for
vanished it obviously had. At last, weary in mind and body, he dozed
off, and did not awaken until broad daylight.
It was a rather subdued party that sat down to their last breakfast
in the beautiful lagoon of Tai-o-Vai. Jim was, as usual, apparently
immersed in his own thoughts and uncommunicative. The reaction after
the recent excitement had left even Tempest quiet. He kept casting a
professional eye at the sky, and seemed engrossed only in the thought
of their long run back. Dave glanced occasionally in the direction of
the silvery beach. His grey eyes were thoughtful. This was the end of
their adventures, and the least satisfactory part of them because it
involved failure. And failure was a thing which rankled in the minds of
all the Hallards. Like his father and his grandfather, Dave hated to be
beaten, whatever object he had set his mind on.
“You look mighty pensive, sonny,” Tempest observed, dipping a hard
biscuit into his coffee and munching it. “Always remember there are as
good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.”
“It’s not the size of the fish I am concerned about, so much as losing
it,” the boy replied. “Tempest, I’m really sorry now that I ever
mentioned this rotten treasure to you. You’ve been fine right through.
I do wish you could have got a fortune out of it.”
“A fortune!” said his friend. “I’d be as miserable as a yellow pup with
a tin can tied to its tail if I had a fortune.”
“Well, half of what we might have found, anyway,” said Dave.
“That would have depended on the amount of the treasure,” mused
Tempest. “If I had a lot of money, I should be unhappy till it was
all gone except about five thousand dollars. That’s the share of the
treasure I should have taken――just enough to let me settle down on
a small farm in South Carolina where I was reared. I wouldn’t have
touched another penny, not only because I shouldn’t want it, but
because I shouldn’t feel I had any right to accept more. You see,
I’m only one of your crew, the same as Jim, really. However, that’s
neither here nor there now. When you’re quite ready we will make a
move. There’s a fair breeze.”
Dave, however, was not inclined to hurry away.
“I can’t get the idea of that hut out of my mind,” he said slowly.
“What about it?”
“Well, suppose some of the people off the _Hatteras_ got ashore here,
don’t you think they would have made an effort to fetch the platinum
off the bark as soon as they had a chance?”
“Why, yes, I suppose they would,” agreed Tempest, wrinkling his
brows. “I’ve thought of that already. Even at this minute it may be
buried somewhere on Tai-o-Vai, but we’re not out exactly on a mining
expedition. You are not proposing digging all over the island, are you?”
“No, Tempest,” said Dave, seriously, “but I surely would like to see
exactly what there is in that hut. It wouldn’t take us very long to dig
it out, would it?”
“Certainly not. I’m game. Let’s take the shovels ashore and get to
work.”
Tempest had not much faith in the new venture, and he worked more to
satisfy the boy’s curiosity than anything else. Prior to the storm,
sand had evidently sifted over the hut to a considerable depth, but the
upheaval had made the task of the treasure-hunters easier. The roof of
the hut was now covered with only a couple of feet of sand, and this
they cleared off quickly. The next problem was to find the entrance,
and this involved much hard work, but eventually they found an opening.
For over an hour they delved steadily, gradually emptying the place,
after digging a hole and placing the skeleton in it.
There was but little to reward their search――a few rusty tins, the
handle of a knife, and the case of a silver watch, blackened with age.
“It looks to me like a place built for one man,” commented Tempest,
during a momentary pause in their labors.
“It may have been the man who owned the platinum,” said Dave.
“More than likely. I can quite imagine that if he did land with the
stuff, and the crew wanted to make Christmas Island in an open boat, he
might prefer to stop on dry land with his blessed treasure until they
sent a steamer of some kind to pick him up.”
“If that’s what did happen,” said Dave, “the dory they went off in must
have been lost, and that accounts for nobody ever hearing what happened
to the _Hatteras_.”
“’Pon my word, Dave, you’re getting me quite excited about the thing
again!” declared Tempest. “It’s only a theory, but it fits in with the
facts perfectly. I don’t know who the chap was who died here, but I
do wish he’d been considerate enough to leave a message of some sort
corked up in a bottle, giving us instructions how to find his old
treasure.”
“Perhaps he did,” said Dave. “Anyway, let’s go on till we get the
cabin emptied of sand. If we don’t find anything, then we will chuck
it.”
Again they plied the shovels vigorously, until nothing remained within
the bare walls of the rudely constructed cabin.
“That settles it,” commented Tempest, at last. “Now are you satisfied,
Dave?”
“I suppose so,” said the boy ruefully, straightening his back and
resting on his shovel. “There’s nothing more to be done, is there?”
“No, I’m afraid this is the finish. Not even the message in a bottle to
lure us on.”
“But,” Dave exclaimed, with a touch of impatience, “what the dickens
can the man have done with the platinum? He couldn’t eat it.”
“Buried it somewhere, I guess. People generally do bury treasure, you
know.”
“Maybe he buried it under the floor here,” said Dave, casually digging
his shovel deep into the sand. There was a metallic click as the steel
struck something hard.
“Gosh! That’s funny!” the boy exclaimed, looking round at his friend as
he lifted out the sand on the shovel. “Tempest, do you suppose――”
“Rock, I expect,” said Tempest, not waiting a second, however, before
he too had his shovel at work on the same spot.
“Rock be hanged!” shouted Dave, a moment later, as the unmistakable
sound of metal striking metal reached their ears. “Tempest, it can’t
be――it can’t be――”
“Can’t it, though!” replied Tempest, joyously. “It’s a metal-bound box,
or my name’s Joe Flagg. Now don’t get so excited. Wait a minute till we
get it out.”
Dave was excited, however――wildly excited. He and Tempest fell on their
knees and tugged at the box, but its weight was considerable, and they
could not lift it out until Jim gave them a hand. It was a small chest
made of oak or some other hard wood, encircled with solid bands of
iron which had almost rusted through in places. The woodwork was in a
fair state of preservation.
“It’s the treasure――it’s the treasure!” Dave sang out gleefully.
“Well, if it isn’t, it ought to be,” said Tempest, trying in vain to
prize off one of the metal bands with his shovel. “Jim, streak to the
_Nautilus_ for an ax――a couple of axes――a dozen――before I burst!”
The Kanaka shot across the water in the dory, and returned in a few
minutes.
Even with the aid of an ax it was not easy to burst the chest open, for
there were hinges and a lock to force, beside the iron bands.
At last, with a creak, the lid was lifted, and Dave and Tempest stared
at the contents of the box, fascinated.
Lying neatly stacked in rows were bars and bars of silvery-white metal
which, in spite of their long burial in the sand, shone as brightly as
when placed there years before by the man who had mined and molded them.
Tempest laughed at the Kanaka’s comical expression of disappointment.
He had evidently expected something much more exciting. Dave stooped
and took one of the small bars in his hand with a curious thrill.
[Illustration: Tempest laughed at the Kanaka’s comical expression of
disappointment]
“You don’t suppose it’s just――just lead or something like that?” he
asked anxiously. “It’s frightfully heavy!”
“It would be,” answered Tempest, striving to keep the excitement from
his voice. “It’s platinum all right, and it’s worth a fortune, Dave.”
“A fortune!” repeated the boy, gazing down in awe at the serried rows
of silvery bars. “Yes, it must be, for it’s worth more than a hundred
dollars an ounce. Tempest, we――we’re rich!”
“_You_ are,” said Tempest. “All I’ll accept is that five thousand for
my little farm in Carolina. Gee! I never saw anything that pleased
me so much in all my life!”
He weighed the bar in his hand.
“There’s a good sixteen ounces in that, I fancy: maybe more,” he added.
“Let’s see how many bars there are.”
With trembling fingers they laid the metal out on the sand, counting as
they did so.
“Twenty-seven!” they said at last in chorus.
“Over four hundred ounces, sure as you’re alive!” Tempest added. “I
reckon it must be worth between forty and forty-five thousand dollars
altogether, if it’s worth a cent!”
“Goodness!” Dave exclaimed. “Enough to buy back my dad’s place ten
times over.”
* * * * *
Three pairs of eyes were staring from the _Nautilus_ at an old tramp
steamer which, two days later, had overhauled the little sailing-boat
in a dead calm.
“That’s a stroke of luck,” said Tempest, while the vessel was bearing
down upon them. “Somehow, I don’t fancy Mr. Cresswell will ever get his
_Nautilus_ back after all.”
“What are you going to do?” Dave asked.
“Do? Why, I’m going to heave this treasure on to that tramp steamer and
sit on it till we reach civilization.”
“What about the _Nautilus_?”
“Let her go adrift. She isn’t worth much, anyhow, and Mr. Cresswell
will be the surprisedest man living when he receives a check for five
hundred dollars――or make it a thousand, if you like, for overweight. We
owe him a debt of gratitude.”
The steamer was now within a cable’s length of them, with her engines
stopped. A dozen faces appeared over her rail.
“You look lonely there. Want any help?” called a deep voice.
“Glad of a passage,” Tempest replied, as a rope ladder was slung over
the side. “Lower a rope, will you? There’s a box here I’d like to take
along with me.”
The crew of the _Seven Seas_ stared with curiosity as the trio
scrambled on board. One sees strange things in those lonely waters, but
not often such a strange thing as two men and a boy at the mercy of the
waves in a cockle-shell of a boat.
“Been on a little pleasure-trip?” asked the captain, coming forward
with a smile.
The engines had already started again, and the _Nautilus_, left to her
doom, was dropping astern.
“Shipwrecked,” Tempest replied briefly. “Much obliged to you for
picking us up, Cap’n. May I ask where you are bound?”
“Frisco the next stop. We’ve got a pretty full crew, but I don’t doubt
we can keep you busy till we hit America.”
Tempest exchanged glances with Dave, and laughed.
“I think, sir,” he said, “for once we’ll enjoy the luxury of being
passengers, if it’s all the same to you. We’ve had rather a rough time,
one way and another, and just at present there’s no shortage of funds.
But that’s another story. I’ll tell you all about it later. Meanwhile,
if you could oblige us with a decent square meal, we’d appreciate it a
whole lot.”
“Sure!” said the captain, turning to one of the hands. “Slip below and
tell Bill Barnes to fix these men up with something special as a treat.”
“Barnes!” repeated Dave, with a puzzled look. “He doesn’t happen to be
a comical-looking chap with one tooth and bushy eyebrows, does he?”
“I guess that’s his photograph,” said the skipper, amused. “Do you know
him?”
Dave, hardly waiting to reply, dived after the sailor to the galley,
and astonished his old friend of the _Pacific Queen_ by bursting in
upon him.
“Great Mackerel, kid! Sha’n’t I ever get clear of you?” exclaimed that
worthy, wiping his greasy hands as he came toward the boy. “Who in
thunder would have thought of this? Jerusalem, but I am glad to see
you! What d’you mean by bobbing up out of the sea like this?” His face
had grown red with astonishment, and he was performing gymnastics with
his mighty eyebrows.
“Been treasure-hunting, dear Barnsey,” said Dave. “Come on, pour out
some of that stew. We’re starved. Haven’t had a proper sailor’s meal
since goodness knows――”
“Treasure-hunting!” spluttered the cook, as he filled a dish with
savory-smelling stew. “You’ve got the brains of a caterpillar. Haven’t
you learnt yet to stick to your job? Treasure-hunting, indeed!” he
snorted.
“Wait till we’ve finished dinner, Barnsey,” said Dave, “and then I’ll
tell you something that will make you sing a different tune!”
* * * * *
Nearly four weeks later the _Seven Seas_ entered the Golden Gate,
and deposited Dave, Tempest, and the Kanaka at San Francisco, where
Tempest immediately took steps to turn the platinum into money. He
found that he had slightly underestimated its value. After deducting
the five thousand dollars for his farm, he placed the balance in a bank
in Dave’s name, and it was a proud moment for the boy when he made out
one check for Mr. Cresswell, one for the passage-money on the _Seven
Seas_, and one for current expenses. Jim was arrayed in bright colors,
such as gladden the heart of his kind, and his cup of joy was filled
when Dave and Tempest showed him the sights of the city in a fleet
taxicab. He soon grew weary of city life, however, and on the second
day insisted on joining an outward-bound steamer for China.
“Tempest,” the boy said when they had seen him off, “I’m going to ask
a favor of you. We’ll be traveling together as far as Chicago, anyway.
Won’t you come on to New York and stop a few days with me before you go
south? Dad will want to see you, and――and I want you to meet him; and
Aunt Martha, too. Will you?”
“Well, it’s a long time, Dave, since I’ve mingled in polite society,”
replied Tempest, with a smile; “but I’d like mighty well to see your
folks, and so, if you think they won’t mind entertaining a tramp――”
“Tramp!” Dave exclaimed, indignantly. “Don’t be silly! And anyway,” he
added, laughing, “tramps don’t buy five-thousand-dollar farms!”
“That’s so,” replied Tempest. “After this I’m a regular farmer. And
you’re a――a――what are you, by the way, with all that money in the bank?”
“I’m――” Dave hesitated. Then, “I’m just your chum,” he finished shyly.
“Come on, let’s beat it for the train!”
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to
follow the text that they illustrate.
――Printer’s, punctuation, and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.