“Well, what are you boys hunting for? Pirates’ gold?” Captain Mansfield
asked, with a hearty laugh, as he looked over Gil’s shoulder.
“We came here for this old chest, because our trunks won’t hold all
we want to carry, and in it found these things, which I don’t suppose
amount to anything; but I can’t make out why you or any one else would
want to keep them.”
As he spoke, Gil laid on the lid of the box the different, apparently
useless, articles which had fallen out when the hasp was broken. They
all had that peculiar musty, salty odor, which tells of months spent in
the forecastle, while the good ship plows her way across this or that
ocean, one day aided by favoring winds, and on the next battling for
life with the spirit of the tempest.
First the newspaper story was placed before Captain Mansfield; then a
small coil of thin, well-waxed cord; then a piece of hard, dark-colored
wood about four inches long by two wide, with the following marks
rudely cut, as if with a sheathknife:
[Illustration]
A fragment of an old British admiralty chart, showing a portion of the
northwestern end of the Island of Hayti, was next examined, and then
Gil unfolded a rough drawing, of which the sketch below is an exact
copy:
[Illustration]
“Do you know where these things came from?” Gil asked, after his father
had gazed at the odd collection for several moments in silence.
“I never saw them before.”
“Wasn’t this your chest?”
Captain Mansfield examined the outside of the box intently, apparently
more interested in the find than the boys, and then said, slowly:
“It belonged to an old sailor whom I found in Hong Kong many years ago.
He was in the last stages of consumption, and begged me to bring him to
this country. I advised him to remain in the hospital, for it seemed
certain he would die at sea; but he persisted, and on the fortieth day
out we were obliged to give him a sailor’s burial. The night he died
we were doing our best to save the ship, she having been partially
dismasted in a typhoon, and when he asked for me, I was needed on
deck. He sent word by one of the men that I was to keep his chest,
which I did, although it seemed nothing more than a dying man’s whim.
It was probably brought here with my dunnage, and I have never thought
of it since. Now I can fancy what sort of a yarn he wanted to tell me.”
“Do you suppose these things refer to buried treasure?” Nelse asked,
excitedly, remembering what had been read.
“He probably thought he knew where some of the buccaneers had hidden
their booty. Take ten old sailors together, and it is safe to say
that five of them believe they can find gold which has been hidden by
pirates.”
“Is what we read in the newspaper true?” Gil asked.
“There can be no question about it. There have been several reliable
histories of these sea robbers written, and by looking in an
encyclopædia you will learn how fragmentary this article is. New
Segovia, in Honduras, was sacked by them. Maracaibo and Gibraltar,
in the Gulf of Venezuela, were plundered by the buccaneers under the
command of D’Ollonois. Morgan, with two thousand men, crossed the
Isthmus to lay siege to Panama, and destroyed it. Coxon ravaged the
coast of Peru, and I might go on telling of their crimes until next
week without finishing the story. All this doesn’t prove, however, that
your find contains a clew to buried gold.”
“But why not try to learn if these things really amount to anything?”
Gil suggested, eagerly. “You have said you didn’t care where we went,
and this would give us a purpose.”
“Yes, and one involving no end of hard work; but if you boys want to
make the venture, and can decide where this particular spot is located,
I’ll head the _Day Dream_ for the place, and give you a chance.”
Nelse and Gil began to express their gratification; but the latter’s
father interrupted them by saying:
“Don’t thank me. Treasure hunting is very different from what you
fancy, and one day’s work, under a tropical sun, no matter how
promising your clews may be, will result in a most intense desire to
leave such jobs to other idiots. It is time now to get your traps on
board, for the storm gives promise of clearing away, with a favoring
wind, and the _Day Dream_ will be under way before sunrise.”
Then Captain Mansfield left them, and the boys set about obeying his
orders by first wrapping the supposed guides to a large amount of
wealth carefully in brown paper, after which the remainder of the work
was quickly accomplished, for their minds were so filled by belief
in their ability to unearth a pirate’s hoard, that many things were
left behind, which, under less exciting circumstances, would have been
thought absolutely indispensable.
An hour later the two were sitting in a snug corner of the yacht’s
kitchen, talking with the old darky who was “de captin ob dis yere
place,” and who rejoiced in the name of Andrew Jackson Washington
Storts.
“De skipper am pow’ful fond ob loafin’ ’roun’ in de schooner,” Andy
said, by way of opening the conversation.
“But this time it’s to be a regular cruise,” Gil replied. “We’re going
for gold, and, unless a regular hurricane strikes us, there’ll be no
shortening of sail until we make a harbor on the coast of Hayti.”
“Wha--wha--wha’s dat?” Andy asked, in mingled surprise and alarm, and
turned suddenly to face the boy.
“It’s nothing to be frightened about; we’re only going to Hayti.”
“After pirates’ gold?”
“We shall make a try for it, although father don’t think the venture
will be success----”
“Don’ do it, honey, don’ do it. Yo’ neber was dar, an’ yer ain’ got any
call fur to go.”
“You’ll think we’ve had a call when you see what was found in the chest
of a sailor who died aboard uncle’s ship,” Nelse said, laughingly.
“You’se gwine kase ob wha’ a dead man tole yer?” and now Andy exhibited
every sign of fear.
“Of course a dead man couldn’t tell us anything,” Gil replied,
impatiently. “We don’t believe in ghosts.”
“But yer will, honey, ef dis yere craft anchors anywhere ’roun’ Hayti
near the gold wha’s got blood on it.”
“So you’ve heard about treasure being buried there?” Nelse cried,
excitedly.
“I’se done more’n hear ’bout it, chile. Ef I should go fur to tell yer
all I’se seen, de berry hair would tumble away frum yer head.”
“Tell us about it, and we’ll risk our hair,” Gil said, coaxingly.
“Yer doesn’t know wha’ you’se askin’, chile. I’d done gone die dead ef
I should splain half I’se seen in dat hole ob de debble. Does yer hab
any idee who’s libbin’ dere?”
“The natives of the island, I suppose.”
“Jes’ listen to me, chillun, an’ den go ashore same’s I’se gwine fur
to do ef de captain ’sists on headin’ dis yere schooner to dat place.
Dere’s voudoos ’roun’ de coast,” and the old man looked over his
shoulder, as he spoke, as if believing some horrible punishment would
be meted out to him for so much as mentioning the dreaded name.
“What are they?” Nelse asked, surprised at the exhibition of fear.
Andy looked at the questioner as if in pity because of the ignorance
displayed, and after a short, impressive pause, replied, solemnly:
“Ef yer doesn’ know, honey, Andy Storts ain’ de one wha’s gwine fur to
put yer in any trubble. Dem as goes to dat ar place ain’ nebber gwine
ter cum back, an’ yer better foller me ashore, kase I don’ hanker arter
bein’ dead.”
As he spoke, the old darky began gathering up such of his belongings as
were in the galley, literally trembling with fear meanwhile, and the
boys regarded each other in silent amazement until the trampling of
feet overhead caused Gil to dart up the narrow companionway.
An instant later he shouted:
“Come here, Nelse! The storm has cleared off, and we are under way.”
An exclamation of dismay burst from Andy’s lips, and, dropping the
articles from his arms, he rushed to the deck.
[Illustration: “Andy rushed to the deck.” See page 18.]
The _Day Dream_ was already several miles from her anchorage, sending
the spray up from her glistening cut-water as she glided swiftly, with
every inch of canvas drawing, toward the sea.
The exhilaration of the sail caused the boys to forget Andy and his
fears temporarily, and they watched the graceful craft threading her
way in and out among the many vessels and steamers, now apparently
about to be run down by some iron monster, and again threatening a
saucy tug with a blow of her fore foot.
Captain Mansfield was standing near the helmsman, watching over the
safety of his yacht, when the old darky approached him in the highest
state of excitement.
“I’se done gone altered up my mind, captin, an’ carn’ go on dis yere
cruise,” Andy cried, forgetting, in his terror, that he had no right to
speak to the master of the schooner under such circumstances.
“Hold your tongue and go back to the galley! I’ll listen to you when we
are outside.”
“I’se gwine ter be set ashore, sah.”
“You’re going to be thrown overboard, if you don’t stop that noise
and get away from here,” was the stern reply, and, fearing present
danger rather than that in the future, the steward beat an undignified
retreat, but at the same time firmly resolved he would not allow
himself to be carried to sea in the _Day Dream_.
Gil and Nelse had heard the short conversation; but there were so many
things to occupy their attention, that they dismissed it for the time
being, as something too trivial to require a second thought.
And each moment the _Day Dream_ was drawing nearer and nearer to the
entrance of the harbor. The wind was favoring, and Captain Mansfield,
true to the instincts which had animated him while in command of a
ship, thought only of showing his celerity in leaving port.
Down through the narrows the little craft speeded, leaving behind a
wake of silver to show her course, and from there to the lower bay,
still holding the wind at its best drawing point, until she was finally
bowing and courtesying to the long swell of the Atlantic, while in
the galley old Andy remained on his bended knees, praying that stress
of weather might force her into some port before reaching Hayti, at
which he could make his escape from the terrible dangers which he
firmly believed threatened all who should attempt to recover the buried
treasure which had been gained only by the shedding of blood.