THE SUNKEN TREASURE
Phil put away the atlas and the boys redoubled their attention.
“It’s a thing to be noticed all through these papers,” Benton went on,
“that the old pirate’s prayers for vengeance were on the _souls_ of his
enemies. That was because their bodies had passed beyond the reach of
vengeance. For within a couple of hours after his comrades had marooned
him, Santos had the satisfaction of seeing the pirate ship, the _Sea
Rover_, as it was named, go down in a hurricane with all hands on board.
“Just listen to this:
“God be praised,” he read, “for what mine eyes this day have seen. For
scarce had Cerillos sailed, after he had landed me on this accursed
island and jeered at me as I sat in my misery on the beach, than a
hurricane sprang up, one of the fiercest and most sudden that I have
ever known in all my voyaging on the Main. It caught him unaware, and
before ever he could furl sail the ship careened and went down less than
a mile from shore. Never a man escaped, though for days after bodies
floated to the beach. Among them was that of Cerillos, which I spat and
stamped upon. How I danced! How I shouted! How I cheered! The devil had
got his own. May their souls roast in flames for all eternity!”
“The old boy was certainly a good hater,” remarked Phil.
“He sure was,” laughed Benton, “and he never got over it. Ravings like
that are scattered all through the papers. But only second to that is
the old fellow’s regret that so much treasure should have been swallowed
up by the sea. He rejoiced in the fate of the crew but would have liked
to save the ship, for from what he says it seems to have been a floating
mint. And he isn’t speaking from guesswork either, for he had been on it
all through its last voyage and knew what it contained. See what he says
here:
“It irketh me sore,” the writing ran, “to think that all that noble
treasure lieth at the bottom of the sea. For never had we taken such
goodly prizes as on that last scouring of the Main. There was the plate
on the galleon _Santa Maria_ that we cut out of the squadron off the
Isle of Oruba, and the gold louis from the _Cité de Marseilles_ that
cost us so dear in blood and the treasure that came from the sacking of
Port au Prince—doubloons and pieces of eight that it might take a man a
day to reckon. Yet now it is nought or as good as nought, though had I a
lugger and a dozen lusty fellows at my back I might e’en yet run my
fingers through it. For it lieth not far from shore, and the waters be
so shallow that had the mast not snapped they might yet be seen.”
Then followed wild imprecations on the fate that had doomed him to be
marooned on that desolate island, while just beyond his reach were
riches almost beyond the dreams of avarice.
Other parts of the writings were in calmer mood and abounded in plans
that he purposed carrying out for the recovery of the treasure, if he
were ever rescued. But as time passed on, he seemed to have abandoned
hope, and it was evident that his mind was giving way, for certain
scraps of paper were full of incoherent exclamations and vague
maunderings.
When Benton came to the last of them and gathered them up the room was
so silent that the boys could almost hear the beating of their hearts.
Their thoughts were in a tumult.
Benton was the first to break the silence.
“There’s just one thing to be added,” he said. “The old Spaniard who
gave me these papers told me that the family tradition, as it had come
down to him, was that his ancestor had finally been rescued, but only
when his mind was almost gone. But he still had sense enough to guard
jealously these papers, which he bequeathed to his son with injunctions
to go and find the treasure. Nothing however had ever come of it, I
suppose from time to time some of the family had vague notions of doing
something about it, but they never materialized.
“Now to sum the thing up. It seems to me perfectly clear that these
things actually happened. The papers on their face bear evidence of
their truth. This old pirate lived and sinned and cursed and suffered
and died on an island somewhere about latitude 14, longitude 81 in the
Caribbean Sea. He saw the sinking of the _Sea Rover_ a little way off
from the island. The ship was laden with a large amount of treasure. The
waters where it sank were comparatively shallow.
“There’s the story, and the only living people that know anything about
it are gathered at this moment in this room.”
“Except perhaps Ramirez,” put in Phil reflectively.
“Oh yes, Ramirez,” corrected Benton with a slight start. “But he just
got a hint of it. He hasn’t the papers and he’s probably forgotten most
of what he did read. He’s just a worthless, ignorant half breed anyway.
I think we can dismiss him from our calculations.”
“I’ve told you now all I know. What about it?”
“Let’s go!” cried Phil.
“I’m with you,” exclaimed Dick.
“Count me in,” added Tom.
Benton jumped to his feet.
“Hurrah!” he cried, as he shook hands with each in turn. “I knew I
wasn’t making a mistake. You’re all wool and a yard wide-fellows after
my own heart—a red-blooded bunch of young Americans who are not afraid
to take a chance!”