"What d'ye mean?" Captain Snaggs managed to stammer out after a bit,
his long face perceptibly longer and his rubicund complexion turned to
an ashy grey. He was conscience-stricken and thoroughly frightened at
the second-mate thus bringing up again, as he thought, his cruel murder
of the negro cook; for, Jan Steenbock spoke in the same tone of voice,
and pointed his finger at him like an accusing judge, in almost the same
precise way he had done on that eventful day when we were off Scilly,
three months before. "What in thunder d'ye mean, man?--what d'ye mean?"
"I vas mean vat I zays," answered the other calmly: "ze dreazure of ze
boocaneer vas shtain mit ze bloot of von schlave."
"Oh," exclaimed the skipper, somewhat relieved by his not mentioning
again Sam Jedfoot's name, as he and all of us believed the second-mate
intended doing, imagining his remark to refer to none other than the
poor darkey. "I don't kinder foller ye, mister, nohow, an it strikes
me, it dew, ez if ye air gettin' sorter mixed up, same ez jest now!
What d'ye mean a-talkin' o' durned nigger slaves an' sichlike? Thaar
ain't none now, I reckon, under the Stars and Stripes this side, nor yit
fur thet matter in the hull o' the land, from Maine to Californy, sin'
the war busted up the great southern `institooshun,' ez they call'd it
in Virginny. Thaar ain't no slaves, sirree, now, I guess, on this hyar
free an' almighty continent! What d'yer mean, hey?"
The men gave out another loud hooray at this stump speech, which the
skipper, quite relieved of his fears anent any allusion to Sam Jedfoot,
delivered with much unction, as if he were holding forth from a platform
at election time, his billy-goat beard wagging while he threw his arms
about in the excitement of his oratory.
Jan Steenbock, for the moment, seemed puzzled how to reply; for, he
stood silently facing the other in the pause that ensued after he had
finished his harangue.
At length, however, he spoke, the wild cheer of the hands spurring him
up and giving an impulse to the slow current of his thoughts and words--
the Dane not being prone, like Captain Snaggs, to talking for the mere
pleasure of hearing his own voice.
"I vill egshblain vat I means," he began, in his deliberate way,
answering the skipper's question, but speaking as if addressing all of
us collectively, his deep tones getting deeper and increasing in volume
as he proceeded, so that all could hear. "I vas shpeak vat I reat in ze
book dat Cap'en Shackzon vas bringt mit him vrom Guayaquil in ze
schgooners dat time. I vas likevise rec'lect vat I zees here ven we vas
arrife, an' Cap'en Shackzon's vas murter't, and ze mans vas kill ze
ozers, and dere vas nuzzing but bloot and murter; vor, ze schgooners vas
go down, mit only meinselfs dat vas eshgape mit mein lifes--and zo I
zays to meinselfs, dere vas a curse on ze golt and ze dreazure of ze
boocaneer vrom ze bloot of ze schlave dat vas murter't!"
"Guess I don't foller ye yet, mister," said the skipper. "Who kil't
thet air darkey ye air a-talkin' on, hey?"
"Ze boocaneer," promptly replied Jan. "Dey vas burit ze schlave vere
dey vas burit ze dreazure."
"An' what did the cusses dew thet fur?"
"It vas to make ze Sbaniards and ze ozer beebles not vor to dig oop ze
dreasure, or vor to go vere it vas burit. Zey vas zink dat ze sbirit of
ze black man vas harmt dem and vork mizcheef, ze zame as vas done to
hims, bekos he vas murter't vor ze dreazure. `Bloot vor bloot' vas ze
law of ze boocaneer, and dey vas zink dat ze black mans vas hab ze bloot
of ze ozer mans dat coom vere his sbirit vas!"
"Oh, thet's the yarn ye hev got holt on!" exclaimed Captain Snaggs, with
a grin on his face, winking round to us. "Guess ye ain't sich a durned
fule ez ter swaller all thet bunkum, hey?"
"I doos belief it, vor it vas droo," answered Jan Steenbock very
impressively. "Oh, yase, I vas zee it meinselfs. It vas droo as droo!"
"Wa-al," drawled out the skipper, with a snigger, which raised a
sympathetic laugh from some of the men standing by, "thet beats
ev'rythin' I ever know'd, it dew! Jest ter think of a straight
up-an'-down coon like ye, mister, with raal grit in ye, a-believin' in
sich a yarn ez thet!"
"I beliefs it, vor it vas droo," repeated the Dane, in no way
discomposed by the other's ridicule. "I vas hab ze cause to beliefs!"
"What! Thet a durned nigger buried two hunder' year ago, or
thaarabouts, hez the power to kinder hurt airy a livin' soul now?"
"I beliefs it," returned Jan, doggedly; adding, much to the skipper's
discomfiture and banishing his merriment in a moment. "Dere vas sdrange
zings habben zometimes. I vas hear ze mans zay dat ze ghost of ze cook
dat you shoots vas hoont dees very sheeps!"
Captain Snaggs made no reply to this crushing rejoinder: but a sort of
murmur of assent came from the others, while I caught Hiram's voice
saying, "Thet's so; right enuff!"
"And zo, cap'en," went on the Dane, perceiving that he had scored a
point, and that the laugh was no longer against him, "I van hab nuzzing
vor to do mit ze dreazure of ze boocaneer, and I vas hopes not vor to
zee it a gains. It vas accurst, as I vas zay, vor ze boocaneer
zemselves vas not able vor to vind it after zay vas burit it; and den,
ven Cap'en Shackzon vinds it, he vas also murter't, as the schlave vas,
and his crew vas murter't zemselves! Ze boocaneer dreazure vas accurst
and bringt goot to no beebles. And zo, cap'en, I zays; zays I, let us
not mindt it at all, mit its bat look, but go on vor to dig oot ze dock
for ze sheep. We vas vaste ze time for nuzzin', if we hoonts vor ze
dreazure; and if we vinds it, we vas nevaire get no goot vrom it--
nevaire, nozzing but bat!"
"Wa-all, thet's good advice, anyhow," said the skipper, thinking the
palaver had lasted long enough. "Guess ye chaps bed better sot to work
agen, ez Mister Steenbock sez. If we shu'd light on this air treesor,
well enuff, but our fust job, I reckon, 's to get the shep afloat agen;
an' we won't do thet, ye bet, by standin' hyar listenin' to ghost yarns
an' sichlike! Now, ye jokers, let me see ye handlin' them picks agen.
P'r'aps ye'll dig up another gold figger o' two; who knows?"
This set all hands busy, the men excavating the sand and hard lava from
under the bilge of the vessel with an alacrity they had not displayed
before; and, each man putting his heart to the job, the broad trench in
which they were working was soon dug down considerably deeper than the
level of the sea. To prevent the encroach of this latter all the stuff
taken out was thrown up alongside, forming a sort of steep embankment on
either hand, so that the _Denver City_ looked by-and-by as if she had
run her head into a railroad cutting, the coffer-dam fixed across the
beach, right under her keel, by the mizzen-chains, where the water just
came up to, blocking the entrance to our dock effectually. The ship
herself aided us in this respect, by settling down more in the sand
there as it became loosened, and we only had to take care now that the
slight rise and fall of the tide should not cause too great a leakage
into the trench between the keel below and the upper strakes of her
timbers above, at the height to which the dam reached; and, after a
while, although a little water did trickle through the wall of sand and
lava forming the side of the excavation towards the sea, there was not a
sufficient quantity of it to interfere with the labour of digging to any
material extent, nor to arrest our efforts.
The men, indeed, wielded their picks as if anxious to make up for the
half-hour or so that had been wasted since Tom Bullover found the golden
Madonna.
Nor did they content themselves merely with digging.
A keen watch was kept, in case something else might turn up, and every
piece of hard substance disinterred was carefully scrutinised; but,
alas! no more golden images or nuggets of the precious metal gladdened
our eyes! Nothing came in view but sand and lava, lava and sand, varied
occasionally by the sight of some fragment of half-fossilised
tortoise-shell, or the chalky bones of cuttlefish and similar debris of
the deep, washed up by the sea, and buried a fathom deep and more amid
the strata of the shore.
This was disappointing; still, the men comforted themselves with the
reflection that they were really digging for something else beyond the
mere chance of picking up stray finds, such as that of Tom, who was
thought a right good fellow for declaring he didn't consider the Madonna
his own special property, but would sell the figure, and go shares with
all, when they got the ship afloat again, and reached San Francisco. My
friend the carpenter thus artfully `pointed his moral,' in order to make
us work the harder at the novel navvy work at which we were engaged--
strange, at least, to us sailor-folk.
Of course, though, while toiling like this, digging and splashing about
in the insidious water that percolated through the beach, and which
gradually accumulated until it was now almost knee-deep in the bottom of
the trench, we were by no means silent, for a lot of talk went on in
reference to the buccaneers' buried treasure that Jan Steenbock had
spoken of. So, in spite of the second-mate's warning as to the `curse'
which he declared was associated with the hidden hoard, and would attach
itself to any one discovering or touching the same, I heard more than
one of the men give expression to a resolve to hunt for Captain
Jackson's cave as soon as he should have an opportunity, when his spell
of work was over, or, at all events, on the completion of the dock and
the floating of the ship--a halcyon period most devoutly prayed for by
all of us as we slaved at our unaccustomed task.
Amongst those who had thus made up their minds to go after the treasure
was myself; and I got full of the subject, though keeping my own council
the while, and not informing any one of my intention.
Presently, at `eight bells,' the skipper told me I might leave off work
in the trench, and go with Hiram on board the ship to prepare tea for
the hands. Morris Jones was ordered to accompany us, at the same time,
to get the captain's dinner ready; for, although we were ashore on a
desert island, our ordinary routine as to meals and other matters was
adhered to as regularly as if we had been at sea--the only exception
being that no particular watch was kept, and that we all turned in
together of a night and out likewise in the morning without distinction,
all at the same time. Throughout the day we worked at digging out the
trench, or `dock' as Jan Steenbock persisted in calling it, under the
ship, in gangs, in similar fashion to the mode that had been employed
when unloading her, so as to get the task accomplished as quickly as
possible; and, to facilitate this, the hands were divided into two
batches, each having a spell of navvy's work and a rest off between
whiles, turn and turn about.
"Thet wer a mighty rum yarn the Dutchman spun jest now, I guess,"
observed Hiram, as soon as we had got on board and reached the galley,
Morris Jones leaving us awhile to ourselves, and going aft to fetch the
skipper's grub out of the pantry, where it was stowed. "I'm jiggered if
I ever heerd tell o' sich a yarn afore!"
"Don't you think it true?" I said. "Mr Steenbock isn't given to
cramming, from all I have seen of him."
"No; he air a straight up-an'-down coon, I reckon," replied Hiram,
proceeding to cut off a piece of tobacco from a plug he produced from
his pocket, and placing a `chaw' in his jaw. "Still, b'y, jest think o'
buccaneer tree-sors, an' all sorts o' gold an' silver a-waitin' fur us
to dig 'em up! Why, it beats Californy an' all I've heerd tell o' the
diggin' days, when thaar wer the first rush, an' the folks ez got in
time made their pile!"
"But you heard what he said of the spirit protecting the treasure," I
remarked, "Don't you think he's right about the curse hanging over it?
I believe it would be unlucky to touch it."
"B'y, thaar's allars a cuss tied on to gold an' greenbacks, sich ez we
used ter hev a little time back," said Hiram sententiously. "But, I
reckon, the harm don't lie in the durned stuff itself: it's in the way
some folks kinder handles it--thet's whaar the pizen is! Guess I ain't
afeard o' no cuss, once I comes across thet cave the Dutch mate wer
a-speakin' on!"
"And the ghost?"
"Oh, durn the sperrit, Cholly!" said he, with a laugh. "I ain't
afeard."
"Recollect though, Hiram," I remarked, in answer to this, "how
frightened we all have been on board by Sam, and the way you were in
only a couple of days ago, when you said you saw him again here."
He looked serious again in a moment.
"Guess I don't want ter run down thet air ghostess," said he
apologetically. "Fur I reckon a man can't go agen a thin' he sees right
afore his eyes."
"And how about the other one that Mr Steenbock spoke of?"
"Oh, thet's different, Cholly. A chap ye sees a-sottin' down an'
a-playin' a banjo aint like a coon thet's ben buried two or three
hundred year, an' thet no one hez seed, ez I knows on, fur Jan Steenbock
never sed ez how he seed it hisself. No, b'y, I guess I'll hev a hunt
fur thet thaar tree-sor ez he spoke on, ez soon ez ever I hev the
chance."
"Suppose we go this evening, when we strike off work?" said I--"that is,
Hiram, if you don't mind my coming with you?"
"Nary a bit, Cholly," he replied good-heartedly to this tentative
question of mine; "glad to hev ye along o' me, seeing as how we both hev
ben a-prospectin' the line o' country already."
"All right," I exclaimed joyfully. "We'll have a good hunt for the
cave. I wouldn't be surprised if we find it near the place where I saw
the doves, by the pool between the hills over there."
"Most like, b'y," said he, bustling about the galley and going on with
his culinary work; "but hyar comes the stooard. Don't ye tell him
nuthin' o' what we hev ben talkin' on, or I guess the coon 'll be
wantin' to jine company, an' I don't wants him, I doesn't. He's a
won'erful slimy sort o' cuss, an' since he's ben skeart by Sam Jedfoot's
ghostess he hez ben a durned sight too mealy-mouthed fur me!"
"I won't speak a word to him," said I. "He's a queer sort of man, and I
don't like him either."
The entrance of the Welshman thus stopped our further conversation; for,
although Morris Jones seemed anxious to talk, Hiram only spoke in
monosyllables, giving curt answers, so that the steward in, the end
became silent too, busying himself in cooking the skipper's dinner at
one, fireplace, while the American attended to the men's tea at the
other--filling the copper with the proper ingredients, as mentioned
before, and diligently stirring its contents till it boiled.
At `two bells,' later on, in the first dog-watch, work was abandoned for
the day, all hands coming aboard to have their tea, Tom Bullover amongst
them.
"May I tell him?" I said to Hiram, when I saw the carpenter coming
forward, after slinging himself over the bulwarks; "may I tell Tom where
we are going, and ask him to come too?"
"I don't mind, I guess," replied Hiram--"the more the merrier!"
Tom was perfectly willing; and so, half an hour later, the three of us
started on our expedition, getting over the side of the ship while the
rest of the crew were still busy with their pannikins and beef and
biscuit, so departing unobserved.
"Now we're off, I guess," said Hiram, when he had crossed over a plank
that served for a bridge over the trench alongside, which was getting
pretty deep by now. "Let us go straight fur thet buccaneers' tree-sor,
shepmates!"
"And here's for the black man's ghost as the second-mate spoke on,"
replied Tom Bullover, with a grin. "I specs we'll as soon find one as
t'other!"
"Durned ef I kear," said Hiram defiantly; "ghostess or no ghostess, I'm
bound fur thet pile, I am, if we ken sorter light on it!"
"I only hope we will, I'm sure," I chimed in, as the three of us made
our way across the beach and then traversed the sterile lava plain,
shaping a course for the cluster of trees between the hills, on the
right of the bay, which I had first investigated.
The doves we found as tame as ever, coo-coo-cooing away with great
unction on our approach, and beside the borders of the pool were a lot
of tortoises crawling about; but, there was no cave near, concealed in
the brushwood, although we searched through it all carefully--so we
resumed our way up the hills.
As we ascended, the scenery became wilder and wilder, the trees
increasing so greatly in size that some of the trunks of them, which
apparently belonged to the oak species, were over four feet in diameter,
growing, too, to a great height.
Nor was the scenery only wild.
About half a mile up a steep ravine, a drove of wild hogs rushed by us,
nearly knocking Hiram down, he being in advance of the exploring party.
"Jehosophat, mate!" he exclaimed to Tom, laughing as he stumbled over
him; "thaar's y'r black man's ghost, I guess."
"Carry on," replied Tom grinning; "we ain't come to him yet. You just
wait and see!"
Further up, we came to a beautiful plain of some extent between the
hills, which had been at some former time planted for cultivation, for
bananas, sweet potatoes, yucca palms, and many other sorts of tropical
fruits were growing about in the wildest profusion.
There were the remains, too, of old buildings and broken mill machinery,
such as used in the West Indies for crushing the sugar cane, a lot of
which was planted in the vicinity; but these were of giant proportions
from not having been cut possibly for years, for, stump sprang up on top
of stump, until the root clusters covered many square yards--the canes
themselves being over twenty-five feet in height and more than fifteen
inches in circumference, of a size that would have made a
sugar-planter's mouth water.
"Guess some cuss hez ben a-cultivatin' hyar," observed Hiram, looking
critically round. "When I wer to hum down Chicopee way--"
"Stow that, bo," said Tom Bullover, interrupting him, being always
afraid of letting the other sail off on the tack of his home
recollections, as he was doomed ever to hear the same old yarn, so that
he was sick of its repetition. "I don't think you'll find your cave
here; them old buccaneers wouldn't be sich fools to lug all their booty
up this long way, when they could bury it more comf'able near the shore,
and likewise come upon it the easier again when they wanted it."
"Specs ye air about right, bo," answered Hiram, taking the interruption
kindly, and no ways hurt at having his Chicopee remembrances once more
nipped in the bud. "What shall we dew?"
"Why, go down again," replied Tom. "Here's a fresh track down to the
beach on this side which leads to another bay, I fancy. Let's make for
it and see where it leads to."
"Fire away; I'm arter ye, bo," said the other, the two now changing
places, and Tom Bullover showing the way. "`Foller my leader'--thet's
the game, I reckon!"
All of us laughed at this, stepping gingerly in single file after Tom,
who found some difficulty at first in pushing through the branches of
the trees, which were thickly interwoven overhead and across the path;
but the latter was distinctly marked out, being well trodden as if it
had been a regular pathway of communication at some previous time.
The bay below, to which this road led, was on the other side of the
point of land that stretched past the ship; and as we descended the hill
we could see the blue sea peeping through the trees.
Half-way down, the pathway abruptly terminated in front of what seemed a
mound of earth, although this was now overgrown with trees, covered with
orchilla weed, that enveloped their trunks and gave them quite a
venerable aspect.
"Hillo!" cried Hiram, "hyar's enuff o' thet orchilla weed thet they
vall'ys so in 'Frisco to make airy a nan's fortin' ez could carry it
thaar, I guess!"
"Is that the orchilla?" I asked. "I was wondering what Mr Steenbock
meant when he spoke of it."
"Aye," replied Hiram, dragging off a great bunch of it from what looked
like the decayed trunk of one of the oak trees, hollowed out by age and
exposure to the heavy tropical rains of the region, "thet's what they
calls the orchilla weed, I guess. Hillo! though, what's this?"
"What?" exclaimed Tom Bullover and I, pressing up to where he was
stooping, scraping away at the timber; "what is it?"
"I'm durned ef it air a tree at all," said Hiram, all excitement, and
his voice thick with emotion and eager exultation. "It's a door o' some
sort or t'other."
"Really," I said, as eager as he, helping him to pull away the fungus
growth from the now partly-exposed woodwork which, certainly, looked
like a door, as he said, "do you think so?"
"Aye, Cholly. I'm jiggered if we ain't found the cave at last!"