_We Begin to Dig._
Two or three days went by, but as yet there was no news of either
Charlie Webster or Tobias. Nothing further had been heard of the latter
in the settlement, and a careful patrolling of the neighbourhood
revealed no signs of him. Either his sailing away was a bona-fide
performance, or he was lying low in some other part of the
island--which, of course, would not be a difficult thing for him to do,
as most of it was wilderness--and as, also, there were one or two coves
on the deserted northern side where he could easily bide his time.
Between that coast and us, however, lay some ten miles of scrub and
mangrove swamps, and it was manifestly out of the question to patrol
them too. There was nothing to do but watch and wait.
"_Vigile et ora,_" said the "King."
But in spite of that counsel, watching and praying was not much in the
"King's" temperament. Besides, as I could see, he was anxious to begin
operations on John Teach's ruined mansion, and was impatient of the
delay.
"With Golconda and Potosi beneath our very feet," he exclaimed at last,
"to be held up by this scurvy pock-marked ruffian, I swear 'I like it
not.' No news from your duck-shooting friend either. It is a slow-moving
world, and the Bird of Time has either lost his wings, or been captured
as a specimen on behalf of the Smithsonian Institute."
At last there came a message from Charlie Webster, another of his
Cæsarian notes: "Sorry delayed a few days longer. Any news?"
That seemed to decide the "King."
"What do you say, Ulysses," he said, "if we begin digging to-morrow?
There are ten of us--with as many guns, four revolvers and plenty of
machetes--not counting Calypso, who is an excellent shot herself."
I agreed that nothing would please me better--so, an early hour of the
following morning found us with the whole garrison--excepting Samson,
whom it had been thought wise to leave at home as a bodyguard for
Calypso--lined up at the old ruined mansion, with picks and shovels and
machetes, ready to commence operations.
The first thing was to get rid of the immense web, which, as I have
already described, the forest had woven with diabolic ingenuity all
around, and in and out the skeleton of the sturdy old masonry. Till
that was done, it was impossible to get any notion of the ground plan of
the several connected buildings. So the first day was taken up with the
chopping and slashing of vegetable serpents, the tearing out of roots
that writhed as if with conscious life, the shearing away of all manner
of haunted leafage, all those dense fierce growths with which Nature
loves to proclaim her luxuriant victory over the work of man's hands--as
soon, so to say, as his back is turned for a moment--like a stealthy
savage foe ever on the watch in the surrounding darkness and only
waiting for the hushing of human voices, for the cessation of human
footsteps, to rush in and overwhelm.
"'I passed by the walls of Balclutha and they were desolate'" quoted the
"King," touched, as a less reflective mind must have been, by this
sinister triumph of those tireless natural forces that neither slumber
nor sleep.
"Here," said he, "is the future of London and Paris--in miniature. The
flora and fauna will be different. There will be none of these nasty
centipedes" (he had just crushed one with his foot), "and oaks, beeches,
and other such friendly trees will take the place of these outlandish
monstrosities. That pretty creature, the wild rose, will fill the
desolation with her sweet breath, but the incredible desolation will be
there; and as we here to-day watch this gum-elemi tree, flourishing
where the good Teach 'gloried and drank deep,' so the men of future days
will hear the bittern booming in the Rue de la Paix and their children
will go a-blackberrying in Trafalgar Square. Selah!"
Two days we were at it with axe and machete--wearisome work which gave
Tom and me occasion to exchange memories of the month we had put in
together on the Dead Men's Shoes. We smiled at each other, as the other
fellows groaned and sweated. It seemed child's play to us, after what we
had gone through.
"They should have been with us, Tom, shouldn't they? They'd have known
what work is;" and I added, for the fun of watching his face: "I wonder
whether we'll find any gentlemen playing poker downstairs, Tom."
"God forbid, sar! God forbid!" he exclaimed, with a look of terror.
The next step was the clearing away of the mounds of fallen masonry and
various rubbish, which still lay between us and our fortune--tedious
preliminaries which chafed the boyish heart of the "King." To tell the
truth, I believe we had both expected to uncover a glittering hoard with
the first stroke of the pick.
"'And metals cry to me to be delivered!'" quoted the "King,"
whimsically, fuming as he took his long strides, hither and thither amid
the rubbish-heaps, so slow to disappear and reveal those underground
passages and hidden vaults, by which the fancies of both of us were
obsessed.
We had worked for a week before we made a clearance of the ground floor.
Then at last we came upon a solidly built stone staircase, winding
downward. After clearing away the debris with which it was choked to a
depth of some twenty or thirty steps, we came to a stout wooden door
studded with nails.
"The dungeon at last," said the "King."
"The kitchens, I bet," said I.
After some battering, the door gave way with a crash, a mouldering
breath as of the grave met our nostrils, and a cloud of bats flew in our
faces, and set the negroes screaming. A huge cavernous blackness was
before us. The "King" called for lanterns.
As we raised these above our heads, and peered into the darkness, we
both gave a laugh.
"'_Yo--ho--ho--and a bottle of rum,_'" sang the "King."
For all along the walls stood, or lay prone on trestles, a silent
company of hogsheads, festooned with cobwebs, like huge black wings. It
was the pirate's wine cellar!
* * * * *
Such was our discovery for that day, but there is another matter which I
must mention--the fact that, somehow, the news of our excavation seemed
to have got down to the settlement. It is a curious fact, as the "King"
observed, that if a man should start to dig for gold in the centre of
Sahara, with no possible means of communicating with his fellows, on the
third day, there would not fail to be some one to drop in and remark on
the fineness of the weather. So it was with us. As a general thing, not
once in a month did a human being wander into that wilderness where the
"King" had made his home. There was nothing to bring them there, and, as
I have made clear, the way was not easy. Yet we had hardly begun work
when one and another idle nigger strolled in from the settlement, and
stood grinning his curiosity at our labours.
"I believe it's them black parrots has told them," said old Tom,
pointing to a bird common in the islands--something like a small crow
with a parrot's beak. "They're very knowing birds."
I saw that Tom was serious. So I tried to draw him out.
"What language do they speak, Tom?" I asked.
"Them, sar? They speak Egyptian," he answered, with perfect solemnity.
"Egyptian!"
"Yes, sar," said Tom.
"Egyptian?--but who's going to understand them?"
"There's always some old wise man or woman in every village, sar, who
understands them. You remember old King Coffee in Grant's Town?"
"Does he know Egyptian?"
"O yaas, sar! He knows 'gyptian right enough. And he could tell you
every word them birds says--if he's a mind to."
"I wonder if Tobias knows Egyptian, Tom?"
"I wouldn't be at all surprised, sar," he answered; "he looks like that
kind of man," and he added something about the Prince of the Powers of
the Air, and suggested that Tobias had probably sold his soul to the
devil, and had, therefore, the advantage of us in superior sources of
information.
"He's not unlike one of those black parrots himself, is he, Tom?" I
added, for Tom's words had conjured up a picture for me of Tobias, with
his great beak, and his close-set evil eyes, and a familiar in the form
of a black parrot perched on his shoulders, whispering into one of his
ugly ears.
However, we continued with our digging, and Tobias continued to make no
sign.
But, at the close of the third day from our discovery of John Teach's
wine cellar, something happened which set at rest the question of
Tobias's knowledge of Egyptian, and proved that he was all too well
served by his aërial messengers. The three days had been uneventful. We
had made no more discoveries, beyond the opening up of various prosaic
offices and cellars that may once have harboured loot but were now empty
of everything but bats and centipedes. But, toward evening of the third
day, we came upon a passage leading out of one of these cellars; it had
such a promising appearance that we kept at work later than usual, and
the sun had set and night was rapidly falling as we turned homeward.
As we came in sight of the house, we were struck by the peculiar hush
about it, and there were no lights in the windows.
"No lights!" the "King" and I exclaimed together, involuntarily hurrying
our steps, with a foreboding of we knew not what in our hearts. As we
crossed the lawn, the house loomed up dark and still, and the door
opening on to the loggia was a square of blackness, in a gloom of
shadows hardly less profound. Not a sound, not a sign of life!
"Calypso!" we both cried out, as we rushed across the loggia. "Calypso!
where are you?--but there was no answer; and then, I, being ahead of the
"King," stumbled over something dark lying across the doorway.
"Good God! what is this?" I cried, and, bending down, I saw that it was
Samson.
The "King" struck a match. Yes! it was Samson, poor fellow, with a
dagger firmly planted in his heart.
Near by, something white caught my eye attached to the lintel of the
doorway. It was a piece of paper held there with a sailor's knife. I
tore it off in a frenzy, and--the "King" striking another match--we read
it together. It bore but a few words, written all in capital letters
with a coarse pencil:
"WILL RETURN THE LADY IN EXCHANGE FOR THE TREASURE," and it was signed
"H.P.T."