"OH, AWFUL! WHAT CAN IT BE?" CRIED REGINALD.
I do not hesitate to say that the possession of unprotected wealth
maketh cowards of most people. The anxiety connected therewith may keep
one awake at night, and bring on a state of nervousness that shall end
in a break-up of the general health. But no thought of ever losing the
precious nuggets and pearls that had cost him so much hard work came
into the mind of Reginald Grahame, until an event took place which
proved that gold may tempt even those we trust the most.
Harry Jenkins was a bright little sailor, the pet of his mess. He was
always singing when at work in the diggings, and he generally managed to
keep his comrades in excellent humour, and laughing all the time. In
their messroom of an evening they were all frank and free, and hid
nothing one from the other. For each believed in his pal's honesty.
"I have a thousand pounds' worth of nuggets at least!" said Harry one
evening.
"And I," said Bill Johnson, "have half as much again."
They showed each other their gold, comparing nuggets, their very eyes
glittering with joy as they thought of how happy they should be when
they returned once more to their own country. Then they each stowed
away their wealth of nuggets and pearls, placed in tiny canvas bags
inside their small sea-chests.
This was about a week after that pleasant Saturday night which was so
suddenly broken up by the muttering of subterranean thunder and the
trembling of the earth.
But earthquakes were frequent in the island, though as yet not severe.
The Queen was by no means alarmed, but Ilda was--terribly so.
"Oh," she cried, "I wish I were away and away from this terrible
island!"
The Queen comforted her all she could.
"I have a presentiment," replied the poor girl, "that this is not the
last nor the worst."
But when days and days passed away, and there were no more signs of
earth-tremor, she regained courage, and was once more the same happy
girl she had been before.
Then the occurrence took place that made Reginald suspicious of the
honesty of some of those British sailors.
One morning Harry was missing. They sought him high, they sought him
low, but all in vain. Then it occurred to Johnson to look into his box.
The box, with all his gold and pearls, was gone!
Harry's box had been left open, and it was found to be empty. No one
else had lost anything. However, this was a clue, and the officers set
themselves to unravel the mystery at once. Nor was it long before they
did so. Not only was one of the largest canoes missing, with a sail
that had been rigged on her, but two of the strongest natives and best
boatmen.
It was sadly evident that Harry was a thief, and that he had bribed
these two savages to set out to sea with him.
There was a favouring breeze for the west, and Harry no doubt hoped
that, after probably a week's sailing, he would reach some of the more
civilised of the Polynesian islands, and find his way in a ship back to
Britain. Whether he did so may never be known, but the fact that the
breeze increased to over half a gale about three days after he had fled,
makes it rather more than probable that the big canoe was swamped, and
that she foundered, going down with the crew and the ill-gotten gold as
well. Only a proof that the wicked do not always prosper in this world.
Poor Johnson's grief was sad to witness.
"On my little store," he told his messmates, wringing his hands, and
with the tears flowing over his cheeks, "I placed all my future
happiness. I care not now what happens. One thing alone I know: life
to me has no more charms, and I can never face poor Mary again."
He went to the diggings again in a halfhearted kind of way, and for a
day or two was fairly successful; but it was evident that his heart was
almost broken, and that if something were not done he might some evening
throw himself over a cliff, and so end a life that had become
distasteful to him.
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So one morning Reginald had an interview with his messmates.
"I myself," he said, "must have already collected over twenty thousand
pounds in nuggets and pearls, and will willingly give of this my store
five hundred pounds worth of gold by weight, if you, Captain Dickson,
and you, Hall, will do the same. Thus shall we restore reason and
happiness to a fellow-creature, and one of the best-hearted sailors that
ever lived and sailed the salt, salt seas."
Both Dickson and Hall must need shake hands with Reginald, and, while
the tears stood in his eyes, the former said:
"That will we, my dear boy, and God will bless your riches, and restore
you all your desires whenever we reach our British shores again."
And so that very night there was no more happy man than Johnson.
Another Saturday night in the men's mess. Dickson willingly spliced the
main-brace twice over, and the night passed pleasantly on with yarn and
song till midnight. But the thief Harry was never mentioned. It was
better thus. Already, perhaps, the man had met his doom, and so they
forgave him. Yet somehow this incident rankled in Reginald's bosom, and
made him very uneasy.
"I say," he said to Dickson one day, "I confess that the flight of Harry
Jenkins with poor Johnson's gold has made me suspicious."
"And me so as well," said Dickson.
"I mean," said Reginald, "to bury my treasure, and I have already
selected a spot."
"You have? Then I shall bury mine near yours. I have ever liked you,
doctor, since first we met, and we have been as brothers."
They shook hands.
Appealed to, Mr Hall said straight:
"I am a wealthy man, and, if ever I reach America, I shall have more
than I can spend. I shall leave mine in the box where it is. I admit,"
he added, "that if there be one thief among six men, there may be two,
and gold is a great temptation. But I'll go with you at the dead of
night, and help to carry, and help you to bury your treasure."
They thanked him heartily, and accepted his kindly assistance.
The spot at which Reginald had chosen to hide his gold and treasure was
called Lone Tree Hill. It was on a bare, bluff mountain side. Here
stood one huge eucalyptus tree, that might have been used as a landmark
for ships at sea had it been in the track of vessels. But this island,
as I have already said, was not so.
Strangely enough, all around this tree the hill was supposed to be
haunted by an evil spirit, and there was not a native who would go
anywhere near it, even in broad daylight. The spirit took many forms,
sometimes rushing down in the shape of a fox, or even wild pig, and
scaring the natives into convulsions, but more often, and always before
an earthquake, the spirit was seen in the shape of a round ball of flame
on the very top of the tree.
This was likely enough. I myself have seen a mysterious flame of this
kind on the truck or highest portion of a ship's mast, and we sailors
call it Saint Elmo's fire. I have known sailors, who would not have
been afraid to bear the brunt of battle in a man-o'-war, tremble with
superstitious dread as they beheld that mysterious quivering flame at
the mast-head. Some evil, they would tell you, was sure to happen. A
storm invariably followed. Well, generally a gale wind did, owing to
the electric conditions of the atmosphere.
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A bright scimitar of moon was shining at midnight when Dickson and
Reginald, assisted by Hall, stole silently out and away to the hills to
bury their treasure.
There were few sounds to be heard to-night on the island. Far out in
the bay there was at times the splash of a shark or the strange cooing
of a porpoise, and in the valley the yapping of foxes in pursuit of
their prey. The mournful hooting of great owls sounded from the woods,
with now and then the cry of a night bird, or shriek of wounded bird.
It was a long and stiff walk to Lone Tree Hill; but arrived there, they
set to work at once to dig at the eucalyptus root. The holes made--
Dickson's to the east, Reginald's to the west--the nuggets, enclosed in
strong tarpaulin bags, were laid in, and next the pearls, in small
cash-boxes, were placed above these. The earth was now filled in, and
the sods replaced so carefully and neatly that no one could have told
that the earth had ever been broken or the sods upturned.
Then, breathing a prayer for the safety of their treasure, on which so
much might depend in future, they walked silently down the hill and back
to the camp.
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But that very night--or rather towards morning--an event took place that
alarmed all hands.
The earth shook and trembled, and finally heaved; and it felt as if the
house were a ship in the doldrums crossing the Line. Everyone was
dashed on to the floor, and for a time lay there almost stunned, giddy,
and even sick. It passed off. But in an hour's time a worse shock
followed, and all hands rushed into the open air to seek for safety.
Outside it was not only hot and stifling--for not a breath of wind was
blowing--but the air had a strange and almost suffocating sulphurous
odour. And this was soon accounted for. Now, not far from Lone Tree
Mountain was a high and conical hill.
From this, to the great astonishment of all, smoke and flames were now
seen issuing. The flames leapt in marvellous tongues high up through
the smoke. There was the whitest of steam mingling with the smoke, and
anon showers of dust, scorai, and stones began to fall.
For a minute or two the sight quite demoralised the trio. But the men,
too, had run out, and all had thrown themselves face down on the ground
while the heaving of the earth continued. It was a new experience, and
a terrible one. Dickson went towards them now.
"I do not think, boys, that the danger is very extreme," he said. "But
I advise you to keep out of doors as much as possible, in case of a
greater shock, which may bring down our humble dwelling. And now, Hall,
and you, Reginald," he added, "the ladies at the palace will, I fear, be
in great terror. It is our duty to go to them. Our presence may help
to cheer them up."
Daylight was beginning to dawn, though from rolling clouds of smoke in
the far east the sun could only be seen like a red-hot iron shot. It
was evident enough to our heroes when they had climbed the highest
intervening hill, that the island from which the Armada had come was far
more severely stricken than this Isle of Flowers was.
But as they still gazed eastward at the three or four blazing mountains
on that island, they started and clung together with something akin to
terror in every heart.
"Oh, awful! What can it be?" cried Reginald.