"My stars, Chips!" exclaimed Hiram, who was standing near by when Tom
Bullover held up his treasure-trove to view. "What hev ye got thaar,
ship met?"
"Sorry o' me knows," returned the other, examining the object closely.
"Seems like one o' them blessed saints they has in the cathedral at
Lima, which I went over one day last v'y'ge I took this side, when I
sailed from Shields to Valparaiso, and arterwards come up the coast, our
skipper looking out for a cargy, instead o' going back home in ballast.
It seems a pretty sort o' himage, too, bo, and I'm hanged if I don't
think it's gold, for it's precious heavy for its size, I can tell you!"
"Chuck it over hyar an' let's see what it's like," said Hiram, his
curiosity at once roused. "I'll soon tell ye if it's hunkydory ez soon
ez I hev the handlin' on it; fur I ken smell the reel sort, I guess, an'
knows it likewise by the feel it kinder hez about it."
"Right you are, bo," sang out Tom Bullover, pitching it towards him.
"Catch!"
"Bully far yer!" cried Hiram, putting up his hands and clutching hold of
the figure as, well thrown by the other, it came tumbling into his ready
grasp. "I'll soon tell ye what it's made on, I reckon!"
He thereupon proceeded to inspect the object carefully, giving it a lick
of his tongue and rough polish with his palms, to remove the dirt and
dust with which it was partly encrusted, sniffing at it and handling it
as if it were a piece of putty.
"Well, bo," asked Tom at length, tired of waiting and eager to learn the
result of the other's examination; "is it all right?"
"You bet," responded Hiram, tossing up the image in the air and catching
it again, and raising a triumphant shout that at once attracted the
attention of the other hands, who dropped their pickaxes and shovels
instanter and came clustering round. "I'm jiggered if it ain't gold,
an' durned good metal, too, with nary a bit o' bogus stuff about it.
Hooray!"
"Hooray!" yelled out the rest of the men in sympathy, the precious
figure being passed round from one to another, so that each could see it
in turn and judge for himself. "Hooray!"
"Hillo!" cried Captain Snaggs, noticing the commotion and coming
bustling up, with his wiry goatee beard bristling and his pointed nose
and keen eyes all attention. "What d'ye mean droppin' work an loafin'
up hyar in a crowd, makin' all that muss fur, hey?"
"We've just found this here figger, sir," explained Tom Bullover; "and
Hiram says it's made o' gold."
"Thet's so, cap," corroborated the American sailor. "It air all thet;
an' goold of good grit, I reckon, too, or I'll swaller the durned lump,
I will, without sass!"
"Humph!" snorted the skipper, holding out his hand for it; "give us
holt, an' I'll prospect it fur ye, if ye like. They usest to tell me I
warn't a bad jedge when I wer at the Carraboo diggin's an' went in fur
minin'."
The little image of the Madonna was accordingly handed to him, and the
skipper's nose wrinkled up, and twitched and jerked sideways, while his
billy-goat beard bristled out like a porcupine's quills, as he sniffed
and examined the figure, turning it over and over in his hands and
feeling it, the same as Hiram had done. He even went so far as to pinch
it.
"Jee-rusalem!" he at length exclaimed; "it's gold, sure enuff!"
"Hooray!" again burst from the men around. "Hooray!"
"I don't see nothin' to holler fur," said Captain Snaggs, in response to
this, bringing them up, as the saying goes, `with a round turn,' as he
turned round angrily. "Guess ye won't find no more o' the same sort
skatin' round the ranche!"
But, just then, Jan Steenbock came on the scene.
He had been busily engaged overseeing the construction of a species of
coffer-dam across the shore at right angles and up to the keel of the
ship at the point where the tide came up to, just by the mizzen-chains;
so that the water should not get down into the excavation that the men
were digging until this should be deep enough to float the vessel, or,
at all events, assist in easing her off the beach--for, if flooded
prematurely, the labour would be doubled.
The hands helping him having, however, deserted for the nonce and joined
the rest of the crowd around Tom Bullover and Hiram, he came up, also,
to the spot where all of us were standing, with the object of coaxing
his gang back to their task. The sound of the men's wild shout and the
skipper's voice, raised in anger, as he thought, hastened his footsteps,
too, for he feared that some mischief was brewing, and that the crew had
mutinied at the least.
The moment he got near, though, he could perceive, from the grinning
faces and expression of those close by, that nothing very desperate was
in the wind; and, he was just on the point of asking what the row was
about, when, all at once, he caught sight of the image.
"Mein Gott!" he ejaculated, looking the picture of astonishment, and
more excited than I had ever seen him, from the first day I stepped on
board the ship until now,--"it vas ze Madonna of ze golt. Ze Madonna of
ze golt!"
We all stared at him, filled with wonder at his apparent recognition of
the figure. The skipper, however, at once interrogated him on the
point.
"Jehosophat, mister!" cried Captain Snaggs, with mixed curiosity and
impatience--"what d'ye mean? Hev ye ever seed this hyar figger afore?"
"Yase," said the Dane, in his deep voice; "yase, I vas zee him one long
time befores I vas know him ver' well!"
"Thunder, ye don't mean it! What, this durned identical image?"
"Yase, mitout doubt. I vas know dat zame idenzigal vigure," replied the
other imperturbably, his passing fit of excitement having cooled,
leaving him as calm and impassive as usual. "It vas ze Madonna of ze
golt dat we vas loose overboart from ze schgooners, one, doo, dree year
ago."
The skipper looked at him, without speaking further for a second or
more, Jan Steenbock confronting him as steadfastly and placidly as a
periwinkle might have been under the circumstances; while all of us
around gazed at them both, open-mouthed with expectancy.
"What d'ye mean?" presently said Captain Snaggs, breaking the silence;
"what schooner air ye talkin' on?"
"Ze schgooners dat I vas zail in vrom Guayaquil dat time as I tell yous,
vor to gatoh ze orchillas veeds."
"But, mister, say, what hez thet stuff, which in coorse I knows on, to
do with this durned old image hyar?" again interrogated the skipper, in
an incredulous tone. "I guess ye air gettin' a bit kinder mixed up, an'
yer yarn don't hitch on an' run smooth like!"
"Joost zo," returned the imperturbable second-mate, in no way disturbed
by this impeachment of his veracity. "You joost vait; I vas hab
zometing vor to zay. Joost vait and I vas tell yous."
"Carry on then," said Captain Snaggs impatiently. "By thunder! ye air
ez long gettin' under way, I guess, ez a Cape Cod pilot. Fire away, an'
be durned to ye, an' tell us the hull bilin', mister!"
Jan Steenbock, however, would not allow himself to be hurried in this
fashion. Quite unmoved by the skipper's impatience, he went on in his
slow, deliberate way, all of us listening with the keenest attention and
steadying ourselves for a good yarn.
"It vas dree year ago dat I vas meet mit Cap'en Shackzon, of ze
schgooners _Mariposa_, at Guayaquil," he began sententiously, clearing
his throat, and seeming to speak in deeper and deeper tones as he
proceeded with his narrative. "He vas go, he tells me, vor a drading
voy'ge to ze Galapagos Islants, and vas vant a zecond-mate, and vas ask
me vor to come mit hims."
"An' ye wented," interrupted the skipper--"hey?"
"Yase, I vas go! Cap'en Shackzon zays, zays he, bevore we sdart, dat ze
schgooners vas to zail vor Jarls Islant, call't by ze Sbaniards
`Vloreana,' vere dere vas a lot of beeples vrom Equador dat collect ze
orchilla veeds, and vas drade likevise to ze mainland mit ze hides and
zalt veesh, and ozer tings."
"I reckon all thet don't consarn us, mister," said the skipper,
arresting any further enumeration of the exports from Charles Island;
"an' so, ye went thaar to trade, hey?"
"Nein," came Jan Steenbock's unexpected answer; "ze schgooners vas not
go to Jarls Islant."
"Jee-rusalem!" exclaimed the skipper, taken aback by this naive
announcement. "Then, whaar in thunder did ye go?"
"Vait, and I vas tell yous," said the other calmly, going on with his
story in his own way. "Ven we vas zail vrom Guayaquil and vas at zee
zome days, Cap'en Shackzon zays to me, zays he, `I vas engage yous'--dat
vas me--`vor and bekos I vas vant a man dat I can droost, mit all dis
crew of gut-throat Sbaniards arount me. Can yous be zeegret and keep in
ze gonfidence vat I tells you?' In ze course, I vas zay to Cap'en
Shackzon `yase;' and, den--"
"What happened?" eagerly asked Captain Snaggs; "what happened?"
"We zails to ze norzard," continued Jan, provokingly, refraining from
disclosing at the moment the confidential communication he mentioned
having been made to him. "We vas zail vor dree more day, and den we vas
zee dat cap dere, dat Cap'en Shackzon vas zay is Cape Chalmers, and dat
ze lant vas Abingdon Islant vere we vas now vas; and den he vas tell me
his zeegret."
"An' thet wer what, eh, mister?" said the skipper, while all of us hung
on his words, breathless now with excitement, our curiosity being
aroused to the highest pitch. "Don't kep us a-waitin', thaar's a
friendly coon, fur I guess we air amost bustin' to haar what thet air
secret wer!"
"I beliefs zere vas no harms vor to tell?" observed the Dane
reflectively, as if cogitating the matter over in his own mind and
anxious to have another opinion to say whether or no his narration of
the circumstances would be any breach of the trust reposed in him.
"Cap'en Shackzon was det, and ze crew vas det, and zere vas nobozy dat
vas aboart ze schgooners dat vas alifes but meinselfs."
"Nary a bit o' harm at all, mister, ez I ken see," said Captain Snaggs
decisively; "not where ther' ain't no folk alive to complain o' ye
tellin' on it. Nary a bit o' harm, I reckon!"
"Yase, I do not zee no harms," continued Jan Steenbock, as if he had now
made up his mind on the point; "and zo I vas tell yous. Ze zeegret dat
Cap'en Shackzon tell to me vas dat he hat discovert von dreazure in a
cave in ze islant von day dat he vas plown into ze bay in a squall; and
ven he vas go back to Guayaquil, he vas charter ze schgooners to zail
back to ze islant again. He vas tell ze beeples dere dat he vas go vor
ze orchilla veeds and ze toordle; but, he vas mean to dig oop ze
dreazure and take hims back zogreetly in ze schgooners to ze mainland,
as if he vas only hab ze orchilla veeds and ze toordle on boart. He
zays to me, zays Cap'en Shackzon, `ze Sbaniards in Equador is von bat
lot, and vill murter a mans like one mosquito vor a tollar,' and he vas
know dat zey vas kill hims if zey vas zink he vas hab ze dreazure on
boart; and, dat vas ze reason dat he vas vant von man dat he coot
droost, joost like meinselfs, mit hims!"
"A treasure hyar, mister," said the skipper, with his eyes aglow and his
goatee beard bristling up, all agog at such news--"a treasure o' gold,
hey?"
"Yase, yase," replied the other affirmatively; "oh, yase!"
"How come it hyar?"
"It vas burit by ze boocaneer in ze olt time--one, doo, dree huntert
year ago," explained Jan. "Cap'en Shackzon vas zee it writ in von book
dat he vas zee at Guayaquil; and den, ven he vas zail here, he vas come
to de zame blace dat ze boocaneer spoke of in ze book and hat burit ze
golt. It vas ze ploonder of ze churches of ze coast, dat ze boocaneers
hat collect in von big heep and zegreet in ze cave till zey coot take
hims avay mit dem, and dere it vas remain till Cap'en Shackzon vound
it."
"He found it, hey?"
"Yase, he vind it von day, as I zays. His voot vas sdoomble in ze hole,
and dat give vays; and den, he doombles into ze cave, and zee all ze
dreasure of golt and silber and ozer tings."
"An' did ye see it, too, mister?" inquired Captain Snaggs anxiously.
"Pyaps thet air coon wer only bamboozlin' ye, an' made up the yarn!"
"No, he vas not make it oop," replied Jan. "I vas zee dat Madonna of
golt dere and ozer tings dat he vas bring back vrom ze cave ven we vas
coom here in ze schgooners, and anchor't in ze bay dere as ze sheep vas
now lay. But, Cap'en Shackzon vas von sdrange mans!"
"Thunder!" ejaculated the skipper, on the other pausing at this point,
as if waiting for the question to be put. "How wer he streenge, mister,
hey?"
"He vas like to keep zings to himselfs," said Jan Steenbock meaningly.
"He vas not let me go to ze cave at all, and ze schgooner vas anchor't
here in ze bay more dan a veek!"
"I s'pose he didn't want the crew--them rascally Spaniards ye spoke on--
smellin' a rat an' spilin' his game, I reckon," suggested the skipper;
"but how did he manage, hey?"
"He vas keep ze mans all day hunting for ze orchilla veeds up ze montane
dere," replied Jan; "and den, ven ze night vas coom, he vas tell me to
shtop on ze vatch, and den he vas go ashore to look for ze cave mit
himselfs."
"He didn't spot it at once agen then?"
"Nein. He vas look in vain vor dree nights, and vas near give oop ze
hoont in despair; but on ze ozer night he vas come back to ze schgooners
in goot sbirrits, and zays to me, zays he, `I vas vind ze cave at last.'
He vas zo glat he vas laf mit joy and I vas laf, too!"
"I guess ye hed sunthin' to snigger over, hey?"
"Yase, joost zo! I vas laf mit him; and den, he vas bring oot dat
Madonna dere, dat he vas hab stow avay in his shirt, and vas show it to
me, and ze vigure vas shin in ze moonlight. Ah, dat vas bat; vor, von
of ze Sbaniards of ze crew vas zee it shin in ze light and show ze golt,
and he vas tell ze ozers--a pack of raskels--and ze whole game was oop
vor us and ze dreazure!"
"How's thet, mister?" inquired the skipper, as Jan paused again here,
his voice dropping. "Did the varmint spile ye?"
"Humph!" growled the other. "Dey vas spile zemselves! In ze mittle of
ze night ze raskels go down into ze cabin vere Cap'en Shackzon vas
ashleep and shtab him mit dere knifes. Den, zey shtole ze golt Madonna
and brings it oop on ze deck; and den, zey get vighting vor ze vigure,
and shtab von ze ozers, and dey vas vake me oop mit ze row, vor I vas
tiret and vas ashleep in ze boate over ze taffrail."
"An' how did ye come off with a hull skin?" asked Captain Snaggs. "I
guess ye wer in a durned tight corner."
"Zee goot Gott vatch overs me!" replied Jan Steenbock gravely, raising
his eyes reverently upward as he uttered the word, "vor, in ze mittle of
ze row, ven ze raskels vas all of zem murtering each ozers and ze deck
vas rolling in bloot, a sudden gale vas spring oop; and ze schgooner vas
dash on ze rocks dere to port, and she vas go down in ze deep vater, mit
ze crew still vighting on ze deck to ze last. One--doo--dree--vore--
mens vas already kil't, besides Cap'en Schackzon--ze lifing and ze det
going down zogeder into de zee, mit ze golt Madonna dat you vas now
vind!"
"An' how did ye scrape through, hey?"
"I vas schvim ashore," answered Jan Steenbock, in reply to this question
from the skipper, who followed his recital carefully, with his
inquisitive long nose twitching every now and then, and his billy-goat
beard wagging as he nodded his head, watching apparently to catch the
other tripping in his story. "I vas schvim ashore and go to landt all
raite."
"What became o' ye then?"
"I vas shtop heres till I vas pick oop by a passing sheep."
"Her name, mister?" again interrogated Captain Snaggs, with keen
pertinacity. "Thet is if ye reck'lects."
"Oh, yase, I vas remembers very well," rejoined the other, equal to the
occasion. "She vas ze whaling barque _Jemima Greens_, of Bostone, I
zinks."
"Thet's right; I knows her," interrupted the skipper, quite satisfied.
"Joe Davis master, hey?"
"Yase, joost zo," replied the other, "dat vas ze name of ze cap'en, I
remembers."
"An' how long did ye remain aboard her?"
"Vor more dan vore months. She vas veeshing vor ze whale ven she pick
me oop vrom here; and I vas hab to vait till she vas load up mit ze
oils, ven she vas go zouth, and landt me at Valparaizo. Vrom dat port I
vas vork mein passage back to England ze next zommer--and dat vas dree
year ago."
"Waal, thet's a tall yarn, anyhow," said the skipper, when Jan Steenbock
had thus concluded his strange history; "but, dew ye mean ter say ez how
ye hev never ben nigh this place hyar agen sin' thet time?"
"Nein," replied the other frankly, "nevaire!"
"What! d'ye mean ter say ez how ye hed no kinder sort o' curiosity like
to find thet thaar cave, with the rest o' thet gold an' treasure what
them old buccaneers stowed away so snug, 'specially arter seein' it wer'
reel?"
"No, cap'en," said Jan Steenbock firmly, as if he had previously well
considered all the bearings of the case and arrived at his final
decision. "I vas nevaire likes vor to zee dat blace nor ze golt again--
no, nevaire!"
"But, why, mister?" asked the skipper, with insatiable curiosity,
winking to the hands round, to call their attention to the fact that he
was about to take a rise out of the simple-hearted Dane, and `trot him
out,' as it were, for their mutual amusement. "Why shouldn't ye hanker
arter seein' the gold agen, mister? I guess ye didn't hev too much on
it afore; an', I'm durned if ye hev got much of a pile now, ez fur ez I
ken see!"
Jan Steenbock's answer, however, completely staggered him, banishing all
his merriment and facetiousness in an instant.
"It vas curst," said the Dane solemnly. "Ze golt and ze islandt and
everyting vas shtink mit ze black man's bloot!"