Elliott watched the arrival of the ambulance from a distance, for he
felt certain that he looked a thorough tramp, with his rough dress and
the clinging coal grime of the railroad. Yet he did not wish to leave
the city without at least seeing Bennett again, and hearing the
medical account of his condition; and he was surprised to find how
much liking he felt for this light-hearted and resourceful vagabond
whom he had known for less than twenty-four hours.
Though his money was running dangerously short, he lodged himself at a
not wholly respectable hotel on Market Street, and next morning he
made what improvement he could in his appearance, and went to the
hospital. Visitors, it turned out, were not admitted that day, but he
was told that his friend was in a very bad way indeed. The young
doctor in white duck evidently did not consider his shabby-looking
inquirer as capable of comprehending technical details, and seemed
himself incapable of furnishing any other, but Elliott gathered that
Bennett had been found to have two or three ribs broken and his
shoulder dislocated, besides a broken arm and more or less severe
lacerations of the lungs. He was quite conscious, however, and the
doctor said that, if he grew no worse, it was likely that Elliott
would be permitted to see him on the next visiting day, which would be
the morrow.
At three o’clock the next afternoon, therefore, Elliott applied, and
was admitted without objection. A wearied-looking nurse led him
through the ward, where there seemed a visitor for every cot. Bennett,
she said, appeared a little better. His temperature had gone down and
he seemed to be recovering well from the shock, but Elliott was
startled at the pallor of the face upon the pillow. The brown tan
looked like yellow paint upon white paper, but Bennett greeted him
cheerfully and seemed nervously anxious to talk.
“Sit down here. This is mighty good of you,” he said. “I never got
ditched like that before. Did that conductor throw you off, too?”
“Oh, no. He stopped the train for me to get off. His conscience was
hurting him, I think.”
“Well, it’s going to cost the road something, I think. But you’ve
stayed by me like a brother,” Bennett went on, deliberatively, “and
I’ll make it up to you if I can, and I think I can. There’s something
I want to tell you about. It’s no small thing, and it’ll take an hour
or two, so you’ll have to come to-morrow afternoon, and bring a
note-book. We can’t talk with all these visitors swarming around.
They’ll let you in; I’ve fixed it up with the doctor. They said that
it was liable to kill me, but I told them that it was a matter of life
and death, and they gave in. It is a life and death business, too, for
a couple of dozen men have been killed in it already, and there’s a
round million, at least, in solid gold. What do you think of that?”
Elliott thought that his comrade was becoming delirious again, but he
did not say so. The nurse, who had been keeping an eye on him, came
up.
“I really think you’ve talked long enough,” she said, with a sweetness
that had the force of a command.
“All right,” said Elliott, getting up. “I’ll see you to-morrow, then.
Good-bye.”
“Will it really be all right, nurse, for me to have a long talk with
him to-morrow?” he inquired, as soon as he was out of Bennett’s
hearing.
“No, it isn’t all right, but the house surgeon has given his consent.
I think it’s decidedly dangerous, but your friend said it was an
absolute matter of life and death, and it may do him good to get it
off his mind. Come, since you’ve got permission; and if it seems to
excite him too much, I’ll send you away.”
Elliott felt a good deal of curiosity as to the secret which was to be
confided to him, for which a couple of dozen men had died already.
Probably it had something to do with Bennett’s rapid journey across
the continent, and Elliott felt some apprehension that he might be
about to be made the involuntary accessory to some large and unlawful
exploit.
His curiosity made him willing to take chances, however, and he waited
impatiently for the next afternoon. When it came, he found Bennett
propped up on three pillows and looking better. The nurse said that he
really was better, that all would probably go well, but that it would
be slow work, and this slowness seemed to irritate the patient most of
all.
“First,” he said, when the nurse was out of earshot, “I’ll tell you
what you must do for me. You’ll have to go out of your way to do it,
but, unless I’m mistaken, you’ll find it worth your while. I want you
to go to Nashville, Tennessee, and I want you to go at once. It’s a
case for hurry. I can’t write now, and I daren’t telegraph. Maybe the
men I want aren’t there, but you can find where they’re gone. Will you
go?”
Elliott hesitated half a moment, wishing he knew what was coming next,
but he promised—with a mental reservation.
“That’s all right, then,” said Bennett, “because I know you’re
square,”—a remark which touched Elliott’s conscience. “It’s quite a
tale that I want you to carry to them, and I’ll have to cut it as
short as I can, and you’d better make notes as I go along, for every
detail is important.
“I told you how I’d crossed the country from the Coast. I had come as
straight as I could from South Africa. I wasn’t in any army there;
that’s not in my line. It don’t matter what I was doing; I was just
fishing around in the troubled waters.
“Anyway, I had a big deal on that was going to make or break me, and
it broke me. I was in Lorenzo Marques then, and it was the most
God-awful spot I ever struck. It was full of all the scum of the war,
every sort of ruffians and beats, Portuguese and Dutch and Boers and
British deserters, and gamblers and mule-drivers from America, all
rowing and knifing each other, and it was blazing hot and they had
fever there, too.
“I’ve seen a good many wicked places, but I never went against
anything like that, and I wanted to get back to America. The American
consul wouldn’t do anything for me at all, but I saw an American
steamer out in the river,—the _Clara McClay_ of Philadelphia,—loading
for the East Coast and then Antwerp. She was the rottenest sort of
tramp, but she caught my eye because she was the only American ship I
ever saw in those waters. So I went aboard and asked the mate to sign
me on as a deck-hand to Antwerp, and he just kicked me over the side.
“Anyway, I was determined to go on that ship, mate or no mate, for
there wasn’t anything else going my way, and I expected to die of
fever if I waited. So I went aboard again the night before she sailed,
and they were getting in cargo by lantern light, and there was such a
stir on the decks that nobody paid any attention to me. I got below,
and dropped through the hatch into the forehold. They had pretty
nearly finished loading by that time, and pretty soon they put the
hatches on. It was as dark as Egypt then, and hotter than Henry, with
an awful smell, but after awhile I went to sleep, and when I woke up
she was at sea, and rolling heavily.
“When I thought she must be good and clear of land, I started to go up
and report myself, but when I’d stumbled around in the dark for
awhile, I found that the bales and crates were piled up so that I
couldn’t get near the hatch. So I sat down and thought it over. I had
a quart bottle of water with me, but nothing to eat, and I began to be
horribly hungry.
“When I’d been there ten or twelve hours, I guess, I tried moving some
of the crates to get to the hatchway, but they were too heavy. But
while I was lighting matches to see where I was, I saw a lot of cases
just alike, and all marked with the stencil of a Chicago brand of
corned beef, and it looked like home. I thought it must be a
providential interposition, for I was pretty near starving, and it
struck me that I might rip one of the boards off, get out a can or
two, and nail the case up again.
“The cases were big and heavy, and they were all screwed up and banded
with sheet iron, but I had regularly got it into my head that I was
going to get into one of them, and at last I did burst a hole. When I
stuck my hand in, it nearly broke my heart. There wasn’t anything
there at all, so far as I could make out, but a lot of dry grass.
“It occurred to me that this must be another commissary fraud, but
when I tried to move the case it seemed heavy as lead. I poked my arm
down into the grass and rummaged around. At last I struck something
hard and square down near the middle, but it didn’t feel like a meat
tin. I worked it out, and lit a match. It was a gold brick, and it
must have weighed ten pounds.”
“Solid, real gold?” cried Elliott, with a sudden memory of Salt Lake.
“The real thing. It didn’t take me long to gut that box, and I dug out
nineteen more bricks, nearly fifty thousand dollars’ worth, I
reckoned. No wonder it was heavy. Then I looked over the rest of the
cases, and they all looked just alike, and there were twenty-three of
them, so I figured up that there must be considerably over a million
in those boxes.”
“Stolen from the Pretoria treasury!” Elliott exclaimed.
“I believe it was, but what made you think of that?”
“Never mind; I’ll tell you later. Go on.”
“Well, I felt pretty certain that this gold came from the Rand, of
course, but who it belonged to, or why he had shipped it on this old
tramp steamer was what I couldn’t make out. Of course, if he _was_
going to ship it on this boat, it was easy to understand that it might
be safer to pass it as corned beef, but the whole thing looked queer
and crooked to me.
“At first I was fairly off my head at the find, but when I came to
think it over, it looked like there wasn’t anything in it for me,
after all. I couldn’t walk off with those bricks. They might be
government stuff, and I didn’t want any trouble with Secret Service
men. So after awhile I packed up the box again as well as I could and
fixed the lid.
“I thought I’d lie low for awhile, and I stayed in that black hole
till I’d drunk all my bottle of water and was pretty near ready to eat
my boots. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I raised a devil of a
racket, yelling, and hammering on the deck overhead with a piece of
plank, and I kept this up, off and on, for half a day before they
hauled the hatch off and took me out. It was dark night, with a fresh
wind, and the ship rolling, and I never smelt anything so good as that
open air.
“The first thing they did was to drag me before that same mate for
judgment, and he cursed me till he was blue. He’d have murdered me if
he’d recognized me, and he nearly did anyway, for he sent me down to
the stoke-hold.
“I couldn’t stand that. I’d had a touch of fever in Durban, and I was
weak with hunger anyway, and the first thing I knew I was tumbling in
a heap on the coal. Somebody threw a bucket of water over me, but it
was no use. I couldn’t stagger, and they took me up and made a
deck-hand of me.
“This suited me all right, and the fresh air soon fixed me up. I
wouldn’t have minded the job at all, but for the mate. The crew were
afraid of him as death. His name was Burke, Jim Burke; he was a big
Irishman, with a fist like a ham, and he made that ship a hell. He
nearly killed a man the first night I was on deck, and I’ve got some
of his marks on me yet. The captain wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t see so
much of him. I was in the mate’s watch,—worse luck!
“But all this time I didn’t forget that gold below, and I was trying
to see through the mystery. But I couldn’t make any sense of it till I
saw the passengers we had.
“There were four of them that I saw. Three of them I spotted at once
as from Pretoria. I’d seen the office-holding Boer often enough to
recognize him, and they always talked among themselves in the Taal.
Two of them were native Boers, I was sure, but the third looked like
some sort of German. Besides these fellows, there was a middle-aged
Englishman that looked like a missionary, and I heard something of
another man who never showed himself, but I didn’t pay any attention
to any one but the Boers.
“Because when I saw them, I saw through the whole thing. The war was
going well for the Boers just then, but there were plenty of them wise
enough to see that they couldn’t fight England to a finish, and
crooked enough to try to feather their nests while they had a chance.
Pretoria was all disorganized with the war-fever; half the government
was at the front, and I’d heard of the careless ways they handled the
treasury at the best of times.”
“You were right,” said Elliott. “I happen to know something about it.”
And he imparted to Bennett the story of the official plundering which
the mine superintendent in the Rand had written to him.
“Well, I thought that must have been it,” went on Bennett. “I wondered
if the officers of the steamer knew the gold was there, but I didn’t
think so. I was sure they didn’t,—not if the Boer was as ‘slim’ as he
ought to be. I wouldn’t have trusted a box of cigars to that crowd.
“But all this detective work didn’t put me any forwarder, and the mate
kept me from meditating too much. The boat was the worst old scow I
ever saw. Twelve knots was about her best speed, and then we always
expected the propeller to drop off, and she rolled like an empty
barrel when there was the slightest sea. I’m no sailor, and that was
the first time I’d ever bunked with the crew, but I could see easy
enough that she was rotten.
“For the first few days the weather was pretty fair, but on the fourth
after I came on deck it turned rougher. There wasn’t very much wind,
but a heavy swell, as if there was a big gale somewhere out in the
Indian Ocean. It was the sixth day from port, and I reckoned that we
must be getting pretty well through the Mozambique Channel.
“It came on cloudy that evening, and when I came on deck it was dark
as pitch and raining hard. There was a light, cool south wind with a
tremendous black swell. The big oily rollers hoisted her so that the
screw was racing half the time, and every little while she’d take it
green, with an awful crash. Everybody was in oilskins but me, and I
hadn’t any.
“The mate was on the bridge, and it wasn’t long before we found out
that he was drunk, and he must have had a bottle up there with him,
for he kept getting drunker. Once in awhile he’d come down and raise
Cain, and then go back and curse us from up there till everybody was
in a blue fright. We didn’t know what he might do with the ship, and
the watch below came on deck without being called.
“Just a little before six bells struck, I heard a yell, and I found
that he’d pitched the helmsman clear off the bridge, and taken the
wheel himself. That part of the channel is full of reefs and islands,
and we heard surf in about half an hour,—straight ahead the breakers
sounded, and the mate appeared to be running her dead on them.
“Three or four of the men made a rush for the bridge to take the wheel
away from him, and some one went down to call the captain. But before
the mutineers were half-way up the iron ladder, the mate had his
pistol out, and shot the top man through the head, and he knocked down
the rest as he fell. By this time we could see the surf, spouting tall
and white like geysers, but it was too dark to see the land. The
captain came on deck, half-dressed and looking wild, but he was hardly
up when the mate gave a whoop, rang for full speed ahead, and ran her
square on the reef.
“She struck with a bang that seemed to smash everything on board. I
was pitched half the length of the deck, it seemed to me, and next
minute a big roller picked her up and lifted her over the reef and set
her down hard, with another terrific bump.
“When we’d picked ourselves up we couldn’t see anything at all, and
the spray was flying over us in bucketfuls. The steam was blowing off,
all the lights had gone out, and the old boat was lying almost on her
port rails, shaking like a leaf at every big sea. Still there didn’t
seem to be much danger of her breaking up right away, and we settled
down after awhile to wait for daylight.
“When the light came back we saw that we were up against a long,
barren island, about half a mile across I should think, with one rocky
hill, and no trees, no natives, nor anything. We were stuck on a bunch
of reefs nearly a mile from shore, and we were half-full of water.
When we looked her over, we found that she was cracking in two, so we
got ready to launch the boats. Two of the men were missing, and we
never saw any more of the captain; we supposed that they had been
pitched overboard when she struck. The mate had been knocked off the
bridge and appeared to be hurt. He was lying groaning against the
deckhouse, but nobody paid any attention to him.
“We got one of the starboard boats into the water with six men in it,
and it was smashed and swamped against the side before it was fairly
afloat. We threw lines and things, but only fished out one of the
crew. I got into the second boat myself, and we managed to fend off
from the ship, and got on pretty well till we came close to the shore.
It was a bad landing-place when there was any sea running, but we
tried it, and piled her all up in the surf. I got tossed on shore
somehow,—I don’t know how,—but presently I found myself half in the
water and half out, with a bleeding crack in my head, and most of the
skin scraped off my arms and legs. I looked for the rest of the boat’s
crew, but none of them came ashore—alive, that is.
“In about half an hour I saw them put another boat overboard, but this
one shared the fate of the first, and I don’t think anybody was saved.
There was still too much sea running to launch boats.
“I lay around on the shingle in a sort of silly state from the crack
on my head, waiting for some one to come and find me, but nobody came.
About noon, I guess, I saw another boat skimming round the corner of
the island with a sail set, and four or five men in her. I tried to
signal her, but she went out of sight, and that was the last I saw of
any of the people of the _Clara McClay_.
“Everybody seemed to be off the ship, and it looked like I was the
only one to get to the island. That night the wind and sea got up
tremendously; the spray flew clean over the island, and I got up on
the hill to keep from being washed off. In the morning I saw that the
ship had cracked right open and broken in two, with her stern sticking
on the rocks and the bow part slipping forward into the lagoon. All
sorts of things were cast ashore that day,—but, say, there isn’t
anything in the Robinson Crusoe business. There was about fifty tons
of wreckage and cargo scattered over the beach, but I couldn’t do
anything with wood and hardware, and I had all I could do to find grub
enough for a square meal. Later I found more.”
“Did any of the gold cases come ashore?” asked Elliott.
“Oh, no. They were too heavy. But in a day or so, when the weather had
gone down, I rafted myself out to the wreck on some spars. But the
forward half of the ship was sunk in about eight fathoms; it just
showed above the surface, and I couldn’t get at the hold. The stern
part was out of water and I rummaged around for something to eat, but
everything was spoiled by the salt water.
“Well, I was on that blessed island for ten days, living mostly on
salt pork and London gin, for that was about all I could find that
wasn’t spoiled by the sun or the water. It was furiously hot, and the
only fresh water I had was a big pool of rainwater, that was drying up
every day. Twice I saw steamer smokes to the northwest, and I knew
that I was away out of the track of navigation, so at last I went to
work and built a raft out of driftwood, and loaded all my gin and pork
and fresh water on board. I rigged up a sail, and even if I wasn’t
picked up I felt pretty sure that I could fetch the Madagascar coast,
anyway.
“But I drifted around for six days. There was a strong current and a
breeze, sometimes both going the same way and sometimes not, and I
don’t know exactly where they carried me, but eventually an English
mail-steamer sighted me and picked me up. She was going to Sydney, so
I must have floated away up to the northeast of Madagascar. I told
them that the _Clara McClay_ had foundered at sea, gone down in deep
water, so as to put her completely beyond investigation, and I thought
I felt my fingers on those gold bricks.
“When we got to Sydney, I shipped on a Pacific Mail boat for the
United States, and, as I’ve told you, I struck out at once for
Nashville to pick up the rest of my party, for I knew that they were
there during the latter part of the winter, and should be there yet.
“You see we always acted together, and, besides, this was too big a
game for me to play alone. It would take a regular naval expedition
and a lot of capital to fish up all that yellow stuff, but if I could
locate the three men I was after I knew we could rustle the expenses
somehow. We’ve been through some big deals together, mostly in Mexico
and Honduras, where there’s always devilment and disturbances.
Well—that’s all. I can’t go to Nashville now, but this thing can’t
wait. Some one will be back after that gold if there was any one else
saved from the _Clara McClay_.”
“The question is, who does this gold belong to?” said Elliott.
“It doesn’t belong to anybody. It was stolen, in the first place, from
the Transvaal Republic. Well, there isn’t any Transvaal Republic any
more. Besides, it’s treasure-trove—sunk on the high seas. Don’t worry
about that, but listen to me. I don’t know where that island is, but I
think I know more than any one else alive, and you can surely locate
it from what I’ve told you. You’ll go to Nashville, and tell the boys
just the story I’ve told you. They’ll take you in on it, of course,
and they’ll do the square thing by me, same as if I was with them.”
Bennett stopped, looking both exhausted and excited, and he fixed his
unnaturally bright eyes upon Elliott with a penetrating gaze.
“I’ll go,” said Elliott, “certainly. Who are your men, and where’ll I
find them?”
“Likely at the best hotel in Nashville. Inquire at the Arcadia saloon,
or the Crackerjack. If they’re not in Nashville you can find out where
they’re gone, and follow them up. Their names—better note them down:
John Henninger (he’s an Englishman), C. W. Hawke, Will Sullivan. Hand
me that writing-tablet.
“What’s your first name?” continued Bennett, and he scrawled painfully
with his left hand:
“Introducing Mr. Wingate Elliott. He’s all right.
L. R. Bennett.”
“There’s a package of evidence under my pillow,” continued the wounded
adventurer. “Pull it out.”
Elliott extracted a crumpled envelope, bulging with a small, hard
lump. This proved to be something wrapped in many folds of soft
tissue-paper, and when unrolled Elliott saw a bright, pyramid-shaped
bit of yellow metal, about the size of a beechnut.
Elliott walked away from the hospital feeling a little giddy and
light-headed at the sudden prospect of fortune. The enterprise was a
legitimate one. The gold had belonged to the Transvaal Government, and
that government was no longer in existence. Who was its owner? Was it
Great Britain? But Elliott was a Democrat and a strong supporter of
the independence of the South African Republics, and he could not
acknowledge any claim of the Crown. At any rate, the finders of the
treasure-ship would be entitled to a heavy salvage.
But at the memory of Margaret he stopped short on the street in
perplexity. What would she say? This was the very sort of adventure
that he had promised to avoid. If she were there; if she knew all, and
if she told him to drop it, he felt a conviction that he would drop it
without hesitation. But yet—he walked on again—this was a legitimate
salving enterprise, and he had never met one which offered so fair
rewards.
The gold was really no man’s. No one knew where it was; and with a
chilling shock he recollected that he did not himself know where it
was. But no matter; it could surely be located; and in default of any
better method, they could visit every island in the Mozambique Channel
till they found the bones of the unlucky _Clara McClay_.
So he wrote to Margaret that night, saying that he was going to
Nashville, on the prospect of a _legitimate_—he underlined legitimate;
the word pleased him—enterprise which promised money.
Naturally he said nothing about his finances; he promised to write
again as soon as anything definite had happened, and hinted that he
might meet her at the depot when she arrived in Baltimore. When the
letter was posted he felt more at ease with himself. Almost penniless
as he was, his imagination already rioted among millions, and with the
yellow gleam flickering before his eyes he prepared to beat his way to
Nashville.