The Spanish Galleon - Being an account of a search for sunken treasure in the caribbean sea.

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Title: The Spanish Galleon - Being an account of a search for sunken treasure in the caribbean sea.
Author: Seeley, Charles Sumner
Language: English
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THE SPANISH GALLEON

THE

SPANISH GALLEON

BEING AN ACCOUNT

_A SEARCH FOR SUNKEN TREASURE IN THE
CARIBBEAN SEA_

CHARLES SUMNER SEELEY

[Illustration: colophon]

CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY
1891

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE ISLAND 7

II. THE FOOD SUPPLY 17

III. HOUSE-BUILDING 28

IV. PIG-HUNTING 41

V. BOAT-BUILDING 53

VI. “DUKE 2D, PROPERTY OF H. SENLIS” 67

VII. THE WATER-GLASS 80

VIII. BREAD-MAKING 93

IX. THE GALLEON FOUND 105

X. THE CASTAWAYS 116

XI. ALICE AND HER FATHER 129

XII. THE PROBLEM 143

XIII. THE ABANDONED PLANTATION 153

XIV. A REMARKABLE CURE 166

XV. LOST AND FOUND 180

XVI. A BAD PORT 192

XVII. THE WAVES IN HARNESS 204

XVIII. EMBAYED 218

XIX. THE PEARL-FISHERS 231

XX. THE CAPTAIN OF THE GANG 245

XXI. SELF-BETRAYED 259

XXII. THE CAPTAIN’S FATE 272

XXIII. TREASURE TROVE 283

THE SPANISH GALLEON.

CHAPTER I.

THE ISLAND.

My name is William Morgan, and I am a lineal descendant of that William
Morgan who was a brother of the famous Welsh buccaneer, Henry Morgan. I
mention this in no spirit of pride,--quite the contrary,--but because
some may choose to trace in these adventures evidence of hereditary
tendencies.

On the eighteenth day of August, 1886, as the sun was setting, I was
floating in the Caribbean Sea. You may mark the place on the map as
being approximately N. latitude 15°, and W. longitude 62° from
Greenwich; or in other words, between one hundred and two hundred miles
west of the French island of Martinique. A chest, well corded but partly
filled with water, was all that kept my head above the surface. Without
food or drink I had been floating thus since shortly after sunrise of
the previous morning. At that time the sloop in which I was voyaging,
capsized and sunk in a squall, drowning the negro captain and owner, and
his son, who constituted the crew. In this little vessel I was bound for
a small uninhabited island known as “Key Seven,” which was in plain
sight when the disaster occurred. For two days and a night, without
sleep or refreshment, I had been struggling to push the floating chest
toward this land.

Now as the sun was just about to sink exactly behind the trees on the
island, I was so near that the sound of the waves on the beach reached
my ear. The tide would soon turn, and I must gain a foothold on the sand
before the ebb got fairly under way, or continue the struggle another
night. My hands and arms were sore in places from chafing in the salt
water against the chest, every muscle ached, cramps and pains shot
incessantly through every limb, my eyes were on fire, the wolf of hunger
gnawed at my stomach, my lips and mouth and throat were parched and dry.
The fever of utter exhaustion and fatigue drove delirious dreams and
fancies through my aching brain. Still on, on, on, compelling the
unwilling and rebellious muscles to their automatic work, made sickening
to the very soul by long continued repetition, I fought until at last my
feet rested on the bottom. One final struggle and the wave left me with
the chest upon the beach. But it was not until the last ounce of energy
had been expended, that I staggered and fell on the dry sand among the
parched bladder-weed that streaked the shore. There I lay for half an
hour, completely exhausted.

When I rose to secure the chest by dragging it a little way--a very
little way--beyond the reach of the waves, the sun had just sunk, night
with tropical suddenness had fallen on the scene, and the stars burst
out in all their brilliancy in the clear dark vault of heaven.

Here then I was at last at the end of my voyage, but in what a plight.
Food and drink and sleep I must have, and that speedily, or death would
shortly claim me. It was starlight, but too dark to see more than the
dim outlines of things. I lay down again on the warm dry sand and tried
to think what was best to do; but I could not think, for my dry tongue
rattled in my mouth and my head ached as though it would burst with
every feeble throb of the heart.

As I lay with my face turned toward the sea, listening in despair to the
soft, monotonous lip-lipping of the waves, varied at regular intervals
by the long, foaming crash of the swell as it broke and swept up the
sands, there came presently in the eastern sky a faint silvery glow, and
the full moon stole up from out the glistening water until it shone full
and broad, making a burnished path down to the shore at my feet. No
doubt, this saved my life. In an hour it was almost as light as day. I
untied my shoes, which I had fastened to the chest while swimming, put
them on to guard my feet, and started in search of drinking-water.
Fortunately it was close at hand. A little brook flowed down to the sea
not more than forty rods to the north of my landing-place. Had I been in
condition to remember anything, I should have known this fact, because
while floating in the sea I noted this stream by the low foliage that
marked its course near the beach, and longed for a draught of the water
which I knew must be there. Stumbling along the sands, I reached the
stream, and lying down, buried my face in the clear, sweet water, and
drank until I could drink no more. This was possibly an imprudent thing
to do. Indeed it was followed by dreadful nausea. But this did not
hinder me from taking another draught, almost as deep as the first.

He who has not experienced real thirst can never know how delicious is
pure, sweet water, taken when every fibre and pore of the body is
suffering for it. Each capillary and duct seemed to expand, and the
heart soon began to beat stronger and fuller as though under the lash of
a stimulant. Though I had fancied food was what I needed most, it was
really the water that my system demanded, and I felt at once so much
stronger and better that a desire to sleep came upon me, the fever left
my veins, and I felt as though I could wait until morning before
breaking my fast.

On the way back to the chest I picked up half a dozen shell-fish of some
bivalve species, on the sands at the edge of the surf, and ate them.
They tasted sweet as a nut to me, but were probably of little nutritious
value, and possibly more or less indigestible. But they brought no harm,
and seemed partly to fill what void the water had left.

At the landing-place I drew and rolled the chest still farther up the
beach, took off my wet clothing, spread it out to dry, and buried my
body in the warm sand, putting the chest between me and the gentle wind
which was breathing steadily and softly in from the sea. Exhausted as I
was, the sense of bodily rest and warmth was delicious; but as is apt to
be the case when one is over-fatigued, sleep did not come to my eyelids.
I was free from pain with the exception of the smarting of the raw
wounds on my hands and arms, and lay listening to the rustling of the
breeze, the sound of the sea, and the lonesome call of a night bird or a
small animal of some sort that occasionally broke the stillness.

I thought over my desperate situation; of the disastrous ending of the
voyage, from which I had hoped so much; how and when, if ever, I could
get off the island and back to civilization to take a fresh start,--for
as to giving up the great object of the expedition, that thought was not
once entertained either then or at any other time. But now without a
boat or the many necessary appliances for carrying out my plans, I could
not hope to accomplish that object, though I was upon the very island
that I had travelled over a thousand miles to reach. It would be
necessary to go back at least to Martinique, if not to New York, to
obtain what I needed. Diving apparatus is not to be found everywhere.
Besides the assistance of at least one person seemed absolutely
necessary, and here I was alone. Yes, I must somehow go back and start
over again,--that seemed clear. But how, and when? These questions were
not easy to answer. Should I be able even to obtain food while a
prisoner here, waiting such deliverance as chance might bring?

These and a thousand other thoughts passed through my mind while I lay
looking at the stars as they paled before the silver shield of the moon.
I thought of my plans so carefully laid, and now, at least for the time
being, so utterly defeated. Thus I reviewed mentally the whole history
of the enterprise I had undertaken. And perhaps this is a proper place
to give the reader an account of what he will doubtless conceive to be
the wildest scheme that ever was seriously contemplated. Listen, that
you may judge.

On my twenty-first birthday, now only a few weeks past, I sailed from
New York in one of the steamers plying to the Windward Islands, bound
for Martinique and thence by country sloop to Key Seven, for the purpose
of finding a Spanish galleon that sank in the open sea near that island,
July 9, 1665, after a bloody battle with two vessels commanded by the
buccaneer Welshman, Captain Henry Morgan. This galleon contained pieces
of eight, gold and silver in bars and plate, and jewels, to the value of
over three hundred thousand dollars. It had lain thus at the bottom of
the sea, as I believed, for more than two hundred years. To find this
sunken wreck and secure the treasure was the object of my expedition.
How I succeeded in such a wild undertaking will appear hereafter.

Several years before, while I was at college, a desultory course of
reading had awakened in me a deep interest in the early printed
accounts of the lawless buccaneers and maroons who infested the waters
and coasts of the Caribbean Sea, besieged and sacked the Spanish forts
and cities, crossed the isthmus of Darien, and followed down the coast
of South America, capturing the vessels and laying waste the towns of
the Spaniards. Bartholomew Portuges, Brasiliano, John Davis, Francis
Lolonois, and Henry Morgan, the brother of my ancestor, were noted
leaders of these buccaneering crews and armies. Perhaps the last-named
adventurer, who led the desperate expedition across the isthmus and
captured the fortified city of Panama, was the most noted of all, as he
was also not the least cruel, blood-thirsty, and avaricious. Fragmentary
accounts by various authors, some of whom were actors in the scenes
described, have been published in Dutch, French, Spanish, and English.
So far as I could do so I had sought and studied these accounts. A
translation into English, made more than a hundred years ago, of the
most considerable Dutch and French accounts had enabled me to absorb
them, and the numerous original reports of Spanish officials made to
their government, and which are still preserved in the archives at
Madrid, were rendered accessible to me by a fortunate circumstance.

Many years ago most of the documents bearing upon the history of
America, from the time of Columbus down to the present century, had been
collected and transcribed through the efforts of an American author
whose charming histories have delighted all English readers. This mass
of material had since its transcription been made use of by many others,
and being in the charge of the college librarian, I obtained access to
it. My enthusiasm may be imagined, when I say that in order to consult
these transcriptions I actually learned to read Spanish. It was in one
of these papers that I found the report of Don Josef Isabel del Velo y
Campo, admiral of the Spanish fleet and at the time in command of the
Spanish galleon La Magdalen. The admiral gave a full account of the loss
of this galleon, of the desperate battle, of the tremendous bravery of
the Spaniards under his command, and of his own escape with two others
by swimming to the island of Trebucino near by. The vessel sank about a
mile from the northern extremity of the island, bearing a little east of
north from the point of rocks. The report was accompanied by an account
of the cargo on board, as nearly correct as his memory and knowledge
could serve him to give, and by a like statement of the money and
treasure lost, concluding with a pious congratulation that if lost to
Spain it at least had not fallen into the hands of Morgan and his
murderous _hereticos_.

At the time of reading this report, it was to me a matter of idle
wonder, to conjecture whether the noble galleon still held together at
the bottom of the sea, and if the treasure was still there; to picture
the many curious things that possibly lived and grew near the blackened
and corroded silver and the untarnishable gold, the monsters of the sea
that swam and crept over and about it, the seaweed, the sponge and the
coral, the tides and the currents which swept by it, and the drowned
sailors and cavaliers whose spirits possibly guarded it through the slow
ages of decay and change.

Although I had looked up the island of Trebucino on the old charts, and
had identified it as the bit of land now marked “Key Seven” on modern
maps, yet at that time I had no thought of the possibility of recovering
the treasure, much less of engaging in such a hair-brained enterprise
myself. It was not until long afterward that the idea entered my mind of
seeking the treasure, and then it was suggested by a serious misfortune
that befell me.

Both my parents were dead, and I had no living relatives nearer than an
uncle, my mother’s brother, who was my guardian, and who from time to
time sent me money as I needed it. When my father died he left his
estate, consisting of valuable farming lands in the beautiful Mohawk
valley, heavily encumbered with debt. The money sent me for expenses at
college came from a small property that had belonged to my mother. I had
always looked forward to the day when, free from school life, I could
undertake the management and control of my father’s farms, and return to
live at the home farm, where I was born and where my early boyhood days
were passed. The old Dutch-built brick house with its noble elms, the
brook that ran through the meadow, so near that its murmur could be
heard on still summer nights from my open bedroom window, the broad
fields stretching up and down the valley as far as the eye could reach,
the thousand acres under cultivation, and the thousand more of woodland
and pasture, the sleek herds, the dairy, and all the joys of a farmer’s
life, made up the picture which was ever in my mind. To live this life
had been my ambition, and I had tolerated school only because I was told
it would better fit me for the work.

But all my hopes were suddenly dashed by a letter from my uncle advising
me to be economical and saving with my money, as there was only seven
hundred dollars left of the fund devoted to my education, and the whole
of which he would in six months turn over to me in one sum. He told me I
was now old enough to be informed of my exact prospects. It was better,
he said, I should know that my father’s estate would not sell for nearly
enough to clear the mortgages on it, that it would require at least a
hundred thousand dollars to meet and pay a debt due in three years. He
offered to manage the property for me up to that time; but warned me
that I could hope to realize but little from it, and that it would then
have to go under the hammer. By this sad and unexpected news, my
prospects in life were wholly changed. The thought of losing my old home
and all the familiar surroundings was so dismal and distressing that I
had no heart left to finish my college work. Could I not somehow get the
necessary money to redeem the property? This thought came to me over and
over. To get a hundred thousand dollars in the short space of three
years! Alas! the accomplishment of such a feat must involve some
extraordinary circumstances as well as great good-fortune. It was while
thus cudgelling my brains in despair, that the idea of the Spanish
galleon recurred to me. After weighing the whole matter coolly, and
without any enthusiasm or prejudice, I concluded that there was a bare
chance of raising this sunken treasure from the sea. I resolved to take
that remote chance, and to spend my money and the three years, if
necessary, in the endeavor.

It would be six months before I could get the seven hundred dollars that
remained to me. This period I spent in planning and studying the
enterprise, and in such physical preparation as I was able to make.
Every day I visited the natatorium and gymnasium to practise swimming
and to train and develop the muscles; so that when the six months had
passed I was an expert swimmer and diver and my muscles were hard as
steel. The money came duly to hand, and I left college at once for New
York City.

There, after writing to my uncle that I was about to go on a voyage that
might last three years, and bidding him an affectionate farewell, I
bought such articles and appliances as I had determined would be
necessary, and took passage for Martinique with exactly two hundred
dollars in my pocket.

Then came, as we have seen, the wreck of the sloop, the drowning of my
negro assistants, and my long struggle in the sea.

CHAPTER II.

THE FOOD SUPPLY.

The sun was well up the eastern sky when I awoke in the morning, so numb
and stiff that I could with difficulty unbury myself from the sand, the
weight of which had almost stopped the circulation in some parts of the
body. My clothing, which I had spread on the sand, had completely dried.
After some chafing and rubbing I dressed myself and felt more
comfortable than at any time since the loss of the sloop. The first
thing to do was to get something to eat. I walked to the brook, bathed
my face, and took a long drink of water, and began to be more and more
impressed with the fact that the diet was thin. There were a number of
cocoanut palms near by, growing within a few rods of the sea, and plenty
of nuts on them, as could be plainly seen. But though I searched the
ground with hungry glance I could find only one nut that had not been
operated on by the land crabs, which are able in an ingenious manner to
extract the contents through the three little eyes or holes in the
shell. This one nut, the exterior husk of which had not been disturbed,
I broke open by pounding it upon a rock, and found it to my bitter
disappointment blackened, rancid, and quite unfit for food.

I had noticed a flock of gulls, or some species of shore birds, wheeling
about and lighting and running on the beach near by. With a shotgun it
would have been an easy matter to creep near and bag half a dozen at a
shot. I watched them a little while and concluded that though it might
prove a tough and unpalatable dish I must have one, or starve. It would
be a good plan, I thought, to gather a dozen pebbles weighing three or
four ounces apiece and try the effect of a shot into the thick of the
flock from as near a point as I could reach. But as there would be no
chance for more than one trial, I determined to fire the stones in a
volley. To do this effectively I gathered some tough reeds and tied one
to each stone until I had half a dozen stones so provided. By swinging
these missiles at the end of the reeds they could be thrown a
considerable distance with great velocity.

Trembling with expectation and excitement, I crept down toward the
flock, keeping out of sight behind some rocks until I was as near as it
was possible to go, when I let fly my volley of improvised slung-shots
as well as I could direct them into the thickest of the birds. Running
forward immediately, I found two lying on the sand struggling. One was
hit squarely on the wing with a stone, and the other had a reed wound
once around its neck. I secured both and wrung their necks. The idea at
once occurred to me that the next time I had occasion to hunt gulls, I
would contrive a bolas by tying a stone to each end of a cord; it seemed
to me that this would prove even a more effectual instrument of
destruction than the sling volley, as it would be almost certain to
entangle one or more of the flock.

These birds were nearly as large as a guillemot, but of what species I
do not know. As I had no fire to cook with, I immediately ate one of
them raw. The other I cut into strips and shreds and laid them on a rock
in the hot sun to dry. The experience of eating a raw unseasoned gull
was such as to turn my thoughts forcibly to the necessity of some means
for procuring both fire and salt. The salt would not be difficult to
obtain, for if it could not be found somewhere along the shore or in the
salt marsh near by, it would not be difficult to make some sort of a
salt pan provided I could find clay or other impermeable soil with which
to confine a shallow pool of sea water somewhere in the sunshine. The
evaporation would speedily give the small quantity I should require.

In my vest pocket was a small metal match-box half full of matches, such
as every smoker carries. But on examination it proved, as might be
expected, that all the matches were wet and useless. Nevertheless when I
got back to the landing-place, I laid them carefully out in the sun on a
stone to dry, thinking that possibly one of them might be made to light.

I now turned my attention to the chest. This chest was one of four that
contained my baggage; but which one of the four, or what this particular
one contained, I could not conjecture. So I set about untying the rope
wound around it, and soon had it free. There was fully forty feet of
strong hempen halyard stuff in the line, and this in itself was a
possession of value. The bunch of keys in my pocket enabled me without
trouble to open the lock. When I raised the lid I found to my bitter
disappointment that the chest contained those articles which would be of
least value to me under the present circumstances. The contents
consisted chiefly of books, stationery, sketching appliances, drawing
tools and materials, and a photographic camera and outfit. Everything
was, of course, soaked with water, and I hardly had the heart to take
the things out to dry. The books and paper, as well as the photographic
plates, were in a sad condition. The bellows of the camera came to
pieces. I spread out the contents of the chest on the hot sand to dry,
putting stones on such things as might blow away when they became
dried. The lens of the camera I unscrewed, intending to use it as a
burning-glass to start a fire, so that there might be no further need to
eat raw gull. The burning-glass, which was of priceless value to me, and
the rope were practically all the chest yielded that could be put to
use, as I then supposed. The chest itself would of course be useful to
me.

Eager to try the burning-glass, I collected some dry branches, leaves,
and other fuel. In a ball or nest of dry grass, of the size of my two
fists, I placed a little bunch of silky seed fibres collected from a
weed. Upon this fibre I brought to bear the focus of the lens,
concentrating the sun’s rays to an intense white spot, which almost
immediately began to smoke with the heat. Presently the material
commenced to burn, and I whirled the ball rapidly around through the
air, whereupon the whole burst into a flame, which being placed among
the fuel was speedily a roaring fire. In this manner I obtained fire as
long as I remained on the island. As a mere matter of curiosity I tried
some of the matches which had been laid out so carefully to dry, but, as
might have been expected, not a single one would light. It was very
fortunate, therefore, that I had the lens, as otherwise I should have
been reduced to the necessity of rubbing sticks together in the manner
of the savages, and probably without being able to get fire as they are
said to do. Of course I did not need the fire to keep me warm, for the
air was excessively hot. But it seemed so like a new-found friend that I
built it high, and when there was a mass of embers, carefully covered
them with sand and ashes that they might last and be ready for future
use.

It was now nearly noon and my stomach became more clamorous than ever. I
therefore cooked and ate the flesh of the other gull, which had been
laid on the rocks to be cured. Although the flies had begun to attack
the meat, it was, as yet, in no wise tainted, nor very dry. By dipping
the pieces into the sea water I gave it, as I fancied, a perceptible
flavor of salt. At any rate, though tough and a little rank in flavor,
it tasted good enough and my only regret was that there was not more of
it. I could perceive the gulls in great numbers flying about out at sea,
but none on the shore, and concluded that they came to the land only at
certain stages of the tide,--probably at low tide, when their food would
be exposed.

Determined to lay in a store of provisions, I next turned my attention
to the cocoanut palms and made another search for fallen nuts, but
without any success, though I sought the whole length of the beach
beneath the trees. It became quite evident that to get the nuts I should
have to climb for them. As the nut-bearing trees were from fifty to
seventy-five feet high, without a branch on their cylindrical stems from
the base up to the feathery crown, the climb was likely to prove a
difficult if not a dangerous task. However, selecting a palm with plenty
of nuts on it, I made the attempt to “shin”--as the sailors call it,--up
the stem. It was hard work, and the heat was so oppressive that I had to
stop several times and rest on the way up and was very glad when I found
myself at the top. I broke off and threw down a score of the nuts in all
stages of ripeness, and then descended in safety.

The fruit of the cocoanut palm grows in clusters of a dozen to twenty
nuts in each bunch, which hang immediately under the crown of leaves.
Upon the trees they by no means present the globular hard-shelled
appearance which is familiar to our eyes. Each nut is encased in a thick
fibrous rind or husk; exteriorly this husk is of a sub-triangular form,
about twelve inches long and six inches broad. Of the fibre of this
exterior husk the well-known cocoanut matting is made, and also the
coarse yarn called cöir; it is also used for cordage.

I carried the nuts to a shady place and stripped off the husk by means
of a pointed piece of rock set upright in the ground. The smaller ones
not yet entirely ripe were full of a sweet liquid, and the meat was soft
enough to have been scooped out with a spoon; the older ones were also
very good, not nearly so dry and hard as we find them in our northern
markets. For the first time since the shipwreck I ate until my hunger
was fully appeased. What the result of a long-continued diet upon such
food would be I could not of course forecast, but it seemed probable
that I need not starve while the nuts were plentiful. Those which were
left from this meal I carried to the landing-place and laid them on the
chest, where the land crabs would probably not get at them.

With this ample supply of food, presumably nutritious and certainly
quite palatable, my anxiety was greatly relieved. Animal food I could
probably obtain from time to time as the island appeared to abound with
birds of various kinds, if I could have time to contrive some method of
ensnaring or killing them. Then too there were doubtless fish to be
caught, and probably turtle. In some of the islands, I knew, there were
wild pigs, as it was a common thing for the people of Martinique to come
to these small isolated islands on pig-hunting expeditions. I sincerely
hoped that these animals might be found on Key Seven; for I felt quite
confident of my ability to think of some plan for killing or capturing
them. But there was no immediate need to go fishing or hunting for birds
or pigs.

I determined to find, if possible, some means of getting a supply of
salt before I sought for flesh food of any kind. With this end in view,
as the afternoon was still young, I began looking about for a suitable
place to serve as a salt pan. I walked along the beach for a mile each
way, but could find no suitable spot. The requirements were a shallow
basin near the sea, with the bottom impervious to water, which should
hold in a shallow depth at least five or ten barrels of water. There was
plenty of rock of a coralline limestone variety, and an abundance of
shells; and the idea occurred to me that I might burn a supply of lime
and thus make a mortar or cement of slaked lime and sand. With this
material it would be possible to construct just above high-water mark
such a pan or cavity as I desired. If I used shells to make the lime,
there would probably be no need of erecting a kiln, as heat enough could
be attained in a large open fire, by building it of several alternate
layers of dry wood and shells.

I immediately set about collecting shells with which the beach was most
plentifully strewn in all directions. As I had nothing in which to carry
them, I adopted the expedient of throwing them one at a time into heaps.
This was very hard and fatiguing work, and it was four o’clock or later
in the afternoon before I had gathered into about twenty different heaps
the four or five bushels of shells which I thought enough for a burning.
It still remained for me to collect the scattered heaps together, and
gather the wood for fuel.

But it was high time now to stop work and prepare for the night. Some
sort of sleeping-place must be contrived in the two or three hours of
daylight that remained, for I had no fancy to try again the sort of
couch I had last slept in. I went to the stream and drank a good draught
of water, a welcome refreshment after my exertion in the hot sun. I then
gathered a quantity of dry grass for a bed and carried it down to the
sand near the landing-place, which seemed a sort of home to me, although
I had resolved speedily thereafter to move my property nearer to the
brook. The contents of the chest were now dry excepting the books, which
presented a sad appearance. I gathered all of these things together and
covered them up as well as I could with the focussing-cloth that
belonged to the camera, piling stones around the edge to secure it. The
empty chest I turned up on its side, hinges uppermost, and propped up
the lid in a nearly horizontal position. This would afford me shelter
for the upper portion of the body. Under the shelter thus improvised I
piled the dry grass for a couch, and my sleeping-place was ready. I then
gathered a fresh supply of fuel and built up a fire on the landward,
which would presently be the leeward side of my shelter.

By the time these arrangements were all complete, the sun was setting.
Tired out, I lay down and watched the fire, thinking over my situation
and planning what to do and how to do it. No doubt, sooner or later some
vessel would pass in sight or land on the island and take me off. It was
not as though I were on a remote or inaccessible place; the native
sloops and small vessels occasionally visited these islands for wood or
turtle, or on pig-hunting expeditions, and I fancied it would not be
long before an opportunity offered for my escape. In the meantime, while
thus a prisoner, be the time long or short, it would be necessary to
keep up my health and strength. For this purpose food and shelter were
necessary, and occupation, too, that I might not brood over my situation
and worry at the delay in my plans. There was likely to be plenty of
occupation, however, in providing myself with the bare necessities of
life. If there should be any spare time on my hands I would devote it
to the construction of a boat, a raft, or a vessel of some other sort,
with which to get away. But with only a pocket knife how could I expect
ever to build a boat capable of navigating more than a hundred miles of
sea? How could I carry fresh water enough to last during the voyage?

These problems were indeed difficult of solution. I ran over in my mind,
as far as I could recollect them, all the different kinds of boats,
canoes, kayaks, etc., known to primitive man. There was the ancient
coracle, used by the old Britons, woven in basket fashion from willows
and coated with clay or lined with a hide,--a thing good enough in an
emergency to ferry one over a stream, but utterly useless to me. There
was the canoe or pirogue, hollowed from a single tree-trunk,--called
also the dugout. Possibly by the aid of fire I might with patience
construct such a thing by months of hard work; and by adding an
outrigger log or float, after the manner of the South-Sea islanders,
such a canoe could possibly be rendered capable of navigating the sea in
favorable weather. Then again there was the whole class of skin boats
such as the Esquimaux use; the Greenlander’s kayak made of skins
stretched over a framework, and “decked over” like a modern canoe. But
how could I build a boat without tools to work with?

I lay thus for an hour or two watching the embers and thinking over one
plan after another, until I felt inclined to sleep. When I turned over
with my back to the fire, I could see along the beach where the
moonlight glinted and sparkled on the sand and shells and pebbles,
tinging each wave with liquid silver, as it ran up in graceful curves
upon the sand.

I was looking on this scene of magic beauty with the soft fingers of
sleep just ready to press down my eyelids when I saw what I thought was
a rock just in the wash of the breakers, begin slowly to move. Was this
a fancy or was it a fact?

I roused myself and watched the object intently. Yes, it was slowly
moving out of the water upon the sand. I realized instantly that it was
a turtle making for the sand in order to lay her eggs. Here was a good
supply of meat which could be kept an indefinite time, to be obtained by
the simple process of turning the creature on its back.

I watched the creature crawl slowly up in the moonlight until it was
four or five rods from the water, and waited a minute to see if it would
go further. Then I quietly reached for a piece of wood which might be
used as a lever to help me turn it over, and ran as swiftly as I could
for about three hundred yards so as to get between it and the sea. But
the turtle did not seem to comprehend the situation, at least it did not
move until I ran close up to it and thrust the stick beneath it. Then it
began to walk away, and as it did so it rose up on its fins to such a
height that my lever slipped and turned, and I could get no purchase on
it. I immediately made up my mind that turtle are not to be turned with
a lever. So dropping the stick, I seized the shell with both hands and
with a mighty effort heaved the creature over on its back as skilfully
as though I had been a veteran turtle-turner.

As soon as I had regained my breath, I scraped away the stones and sand
until there was a level space around the turtle, so that it could not
possibly work itself over again, and then contemplated my prize. It was
a magnificent specimen of the hawk’s-bill variety of sea turtle, and
would doubtless weigh one hundred and fifty pounds. Visions of turtle
soup and steaks floated through my mind. But I could not afford to kill
this great creature until I had salt with which to preserve the meat;
otherwise I could not hope to consume a tenth of it before it would
spoil.

Quite content with this piece of good-luck, I returned to my shelter
and, lying down, kept watch for another such prize; but none came, and
after an hour or two my eyelids grew heavy again,--and the glitter of
the moonlight on the sand, and the ceaseless motion of the waves, seemed
to mingle together in a swimming confusion, until I lost myself and the
moonlit waves and shore together in a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER III.

HOUSE-BUILDING.

Bright and early the next morning I awoke to what I felt must be a busy
day. A plunge in the sea, a good bath in the brook, and a frugal
breakfast of cocoanuts consumed but a few minutes of the time, which,
being now practically my sole capital, must be expended with due regard
to economy. The turtle was lying safe on its back, and as the sun would
soon be very hot, my first care was to break off some shrubs and erect a
shade for the creature. I should have been glad to pour a few buckets of
sea water over it, but buckets were not among my present conveniences.

The first work on hand was of course the lime-burning. I found a great
piece of bark, which I loosened from a fallen and partially decayed log,
and used as a sort of tray on which to carry the separate heaps of
shells to the spot where the burning was to be done. To economize time
and labor, I concluded to burn the lime at the spot where I should
subsequently want it. I selected for this purpose a flat piece of smooth
sand free of stones and just above high tide, where the waves could not
in ordinary weather wash into it. With my hands and pieces of bark I
scooped out a basin about ten feet square and a foot in depth, throwing
the sand up all around in a low bank. In this basin I piled dry wood and
the shells in layers until the pile was five or six feet high.

This took me until noon, working hard every minute, with the
perspiration streaming from every pore. Then I discovered that my fire
was out. But I had no trouble to start another with the burning-glass,
as the sun was shining fiercely and so directly overhead that I had to
search for my shadow. Presently the great flames were roaring and
leaping high in the air and casting out such a heat that I was glad to
retire to the brook for a drink and a cocoanut lunch while waiting for
the fuel to burn out.

As I rested in the shade, I employed myself in twisting or rudely
spinning some cord out of the fibre of the cocoanut husks. I first
pounded the husk between two stones until the fibre was reduced to a
mass resembling coarse hemp, and then began to draw it out and twist it
as one twists a hay band, only into a slenderer thread. As fast as it
became twisted, I wound the thread on a short stick about six inches
long and a quarter of an inch in diameter. With the cord wound smoothly
on this stick, and a half-hitch taken around one end, I could roll the
cord and stick between my hand and leg to give the twist necessary for
the spinning operation, and at the same time use the other hand to
manipulate the entangling fibres. By this simple process it was possible
to produce the thread, or cöir, quite rapidly.

In about an hour and a half my great fire was burned to the ground, and
as a result there lay in the shallow excavation a mingled mass of
embers, ashes, lime, fragments of partly burned shells, wood, and
charcoal. Of course the ground beneath was very hot, and I could not
work among the embers and hot fragments. The tide was now beginning to
come in, and I dug a trench from the pit to the sea, through which the
water flowed till it quenched the fire and slaked the lime, and partly
sinking in the porous sand, left: a muddy compound of lime, ashes, and
sand, all over the bottom of the pit. I filled and plastered up the
trench except a narrow gateway, cleaned out the sticks and fragments,
and sprinkled dry sand over the mud, raking it well in and smoothing the
surface as much as possible with the aid of sticks and a great
clam-shell. It now remained for me only to let the cement or mortar set
and dry, and then, I hoped, it would prove impervious to water.

There were still some hours of daylight, which could not be better
employed, I thought, than upon the construction of some better shelter
than the upturned chest had afforded. All day I had been turning over in
my mind a plan for a hut or shanty that I fancied might be quickly and
easily built. There was no telling how long the fair weather, which had
now lasted for several days, might continue, and the utter wretchedness
of existence if a storm should find me without a shelter was not to be
patiently contemplated.

In gathering fuel near the edge of the forest I had noticed a great
quantity of dead stalks standing six or seven feet high, straight as an
arrow and perhaps an inch and a half in diameter except where they
tapered at the top. The plant looked like some species of hibiscus. Any
quantity of these stalks was to be had, and they were light yet strong
enough for my purpose.

I selected a nice level piece of dry sand near the stream and fifty
yards or so from the sea as a site for my proposed house. The shadow
from a clump of cocoanut palms fell upon the spot for a part of the day,
and near by was a bit of rock where I had sat at noon spinning cöir. Two
young palms grew there about eight feet apart, the trunks of which would
serve for the main supports of the structure. I hunted about in the
forest until I found a reasonably straight stick, that would reach from
one of these trees to the other, to serve as a ridgepole, and lashed it
firmly to them with some of my cocoanut cord, about eight feet from the
ground. Then I brought hibiscus stalks, taking care to cut their butts
diagonally. They were easily severed by a single blow. These stalks I
set upright in the sand; as firmly as possible, for the four walls of
the hut, each wall consisting of two rows, the inner row being planted
close together and the outer row parallel to it at a distance of about
an inch and a half, the stalks of the outer row being separated from one
another three or four inches.

When they were set up, which did not take long as I made no effort to
drive them very firmly in the sand, I cut off the tops of the stalks
forming the end walls to the shape that the roof was subsequently to
take, and reduced the side walls to a common level. In the side next the
sea I left an opening for a doorway. The space between the rows of
stalks it was my intention to fill with dry grass laid horizontally, and
to lay in at intervals stalks of hibiscus, finishing off the top of the
walls with a good stout stalk of the same, laid in all around and lashed
to both rows with cord. This, I thought, would make a reasonably stout
and weatherproof wall, and so it subsequently turned out. But as night
came on at this stage of the work, I could not complete even the walls
of my hut before dark, and was fain to content myself with my bed under
the chest.

I was awakened from a sound sleep by something crawling over me.
Forgetful of where I was, I sprang up erect, and my head, coming
violently in contact with the chest, overturned it, while I fell back
half stunned with the blow. The moon had gone down and the stars were
shining brightly, but there was not light enough to see anything
distinctly except on the water, where a phosphorescent gleam lighted up
the breaking waves with a pale greenish glow which ran in streaks along
the surface.

As soon as I could collect my scattered senses and get upon my feet, I
began to grope around in search of the cause of the disturbance.
Presently a loathsome, warty, tuberculous land crab scuttled over my
naked foot, and I could then make out literally hundreds of shadowy
forms sidling over the sand. There was no more sleep for me that night,
and I was glad to think from the appearance of the sky that it was not
more than two hours before the dawn. As I had already been sleeping for
eight or ten hours I felt rested, but was faint with hunger. Cocoanut no
longer had an attraction for me, but as there was nothing else at hand I
forced myself to eat enough to relieve my faintness. A good cup of
coffee or even a bowl of hot soup would have seemed a fortune to me
then, but I was obliged to be satisfied with a deep draught of water,
which lay in my stomach sensibly cold and heavy. It was evident that
there was no time to lose in getting more nutritious food than
cocoanuts, if I was to keep my strength. This determined me to kill the
turtle that very morning, without waiting for the slow operation of the
salt pan even if it proved ready to fill with sea water that day; for
the evaporation of such an amount of water might take several days
before the residue was salt enough for brine. I went to look at the
captive and found it as I had left it the day before.

I watched the eastern horizon patiently for signs of dawn. Finally a
gray pale glow lit up the sky and slowly changed to a tender pink and
primrose, then suddenly the golden rim of the sun shot up and daylight
as suddenly took the place of night. The streaks and wreaths of mist
that lay sleeping in the hollows of the waves floated away and
dissolved.

It did not take me long to kill and dress the turtle, and to pack the
meat, both callipash and callipee,--as the two sorts composing a
turtle’s anatomy are termed,--into the upper shell and to cover it up
with the breast plate. I now resolved to have some hot turtle soup.

Among the photographic apparatus were two shallow developing-trays, made
of sheet iron and lined with porcelain. They were about an inch in depth
and six by ten inches in their lateral dimensions. While these would
serve well enough perhaps to stew or fry the meat in, they did not hold
enough to make soup. There was, however, a large glass bottle holding a
gallon, filled with a solution of hyposulphite of soda to be used as a
fixing solution for photographic negatives. This I emptied and washed
thoroughly with sand and water until it was perfectly clean. Cutting
some of the meat into small fragments, I put them into the bottle until
it was a third full, then filled it with equal parts of sea water and
fresh water, as this proportion seemed to taste about salt enough. I
then set the bottle in the hot ashes until the contents were warm,
gradually moving it nearer and nearer the fire, until finally all was so
hot that I no longer feared the heat would crack the glass; so, drawing
out some embers, I set the bottle boldly upon them, where the water soon
began to simmer and gently boil. In the mean time, I stewed some of the
meat with sea water in a developing-tray for immediate consumption, and
of this made a good breakfast.

After breakfast I examined the salt pan to see if the cement had set
sufficiently, but found that the mortar was still somewhat friable and
not hard though seemingly quite dry. I concluded, therefore, to let it
harden for another twenty-four hours before putting it to the test; but
to obtain a small supply of salt for immediate use I filled the two
developing trays with sea water and set them on the fire to boil.

When these operations were fairly under way, I resumed the
house-building. First I gathered a great quantity of coarse, dry grass
in the bottom land of the creek and laid it in the walls in the manner
already described. When this was completed to my satisfaction, I began
the construction of the roof after the following fashion: From the
ridgepole to the side walls I laid at intervals of six inches
hibiscus-stalk rafters, securing them in place at both ends by hay bands
twisted out of the dry, tough grass, the lower ends of the rafters
projecting to form eaves. On these rafters and parallel to the ridgepole
I tied in like manner other stalks, at intervals of six inches. Here was
a light and reasonably strong framework ready to receive a thatching of
grass or palm leaves, but I concluded that grass would be preferable as
it would make a roof better calculated to resist the wind.

Night was now approaching, and as the weather seemed as settled as ever,
the lack of the thatch would be no special hardship. I hurried therefore
to drag my chest up to the house and arrange my bed of grass within the
walls, guarding against another intrusion of the land crabs by means of
a row of short hibiscus stalks across the doorway. The result of the
day’s boiling of sea water in my developing-trays was something over a
tablespoonful of salt. The soup which had been simmering all day in the
bottle was delicious, and I made a hearty supper of part of it and some
of the boiled meat. With the photographic apparatus were two chemist’s
graduated glasses, one of eight and one of four ounces. These made
capital drinking-cups. The larger one I used for that purpose, and into
the smaller put the precious, hard-earned salt.

As I had no notion to go to bed with the sun, I cast about for something
to occupy the two or three hours before bedtime, and concluded to fry
up a store of turtle meat in my trays. By nine o’clock I had thus
prepared fully twenty pounds of the meat, which I piled upon a pavement
of clam-shells in one corner of the house. The land crabs being duly
fenced out, I turned in and slept soundly all night.

In the morning I was up at break of day, and ate a breakfast of hot
soup. Immediately after breakfast I began to thatch my roof. For this
purpose I carefully cut bundles of the long, dry grass, and beginning at
the eaves, laid a row, butts down, in a layer about three inches in
thickness. On this, near the tops of the grass, I tied a stalk of the
hibiscus; then another layer of grass, covering the first down two
thirds of its length and covering also the hibiscus stalk; and so on,
layer after layer, on both pitches of the roof, until the ridgepole was
reached. At the comb of the ridge I finished all by bending down the
grass at each side and securing it with a couple of the stalks, one at
each side. I then heaped up the sand around the bottom of the walls on
the outside, to give greater stability to the structure, and dug a ditch
to prevent the water from flooding the interior if it should come down
faster than the sandy soil could absorb it.

The next thing to make was some sort of door, and the planning and
fashioning of this gave me occasion for no little thought and trouble.
Finally, after trying other methods unsuccessfully, I rigged up a sort
of rolling blind out of the stalks by cutting a number of them of a
length a little greater than the width of the doorway and tying them
close together by a cord at each end and one in the middle, so that the
whole would be flexible like a curtain. This I hung over the doorway and
attached a loop at each lower corner to secure it when it was down. When
the door was to be opened this curtain could be rolled up and held in
position by pulling a cord, or could be swung aside when ingress or
egress merely was desired. Along the walls inside I made some rude
shelves of hibiscus stalks, so that I might have my small possessions
handy and safe.

I intended as soon as convenient to spin a good supply of cord and make
a hammock to swing from one of the palm pillars to the other. In the
mean time, as a temporary expedient for a bed, I laid a platform of
hibiscus stalks in one corner, and covered them with a thick layer of
grass. For ventilation and light, I cut under the projecting eaves four
openings, or windows, into which, so sheltered, the rain would not be
likely to drive. The chest answered for a seat or table as occasion
required.

Here was a reasonably comfortable dwelling where I should be safe from
the rain. And, indeed, it was completed none too soon, for even as I was
sitting in the house on the chest, resting and contemplating my work, I
heard the wind rustling among the palm leaves and was sensible of a
darkening of the sky, which betokened a storm. The swaying of the two
young palms which held the ridgepole at once warned me that the motion
was likely to rack and weaken the whole structure. The tops of these two
trees must come off at once. By hauling out the chest and using it as a
scaffolding, I could reach the palm trunks at a point above the
ridgepole; but when I tried to cut the tree with my knife, I found it
would take too long to sever it. Therefore, the only way was to climb
the slender trunk and break off its branches. One of the trunks bent so
under my weight as to break short off above the ridgepole, dropping me
on the sand, but without harm. The other one I succeeded in denuding of
its crown of leaves.

The storm was coming up grandly from the southeast. The sea in that
direction was of an indigo tint streaked with flashes of foam, and above
hung a leaden mass of clouds with a touch of copper-color here and
there, where the internal fires flashed and glowed. The wind sank to a
perfect calm, and occasionally a great drop of rain fell warm as blood.
I had brought all the contents of the chest up near the hut, and I now
hurried to get them under the shelter. The fire was smouldering near by,
and there was a good supply of wood piled near it. I hurriedly carried
this into the house, and also four or five charred and ignited sticks,
which I placed in the middle of the room on the sand together in such
manner that they would smoulder slowly there and keep alight. The smoke
might be an annoyance, but as soon as there was a draught of air, it
would drift out through the ventilators, and I could keep to windward of
it. Finally I ran out and dragged in my turtle shell with its store of
meat, and put that also under shelter.

The calm still continued deathlike and dark. When all was under shelter
and I had returned from the brook with my goblet filled with fresh
water, I stood at the open door, looking at the sea. Suddenly, without
any further warning, down came the rain in bucketfuls, falling in
vertical lines,--such a shower as is rarely seen. The roof held tight,
the water streaming from it like a cataract, but not a drop coming
through to the interior. In about twenty minutes the rain as suddenly
ceased. Looking out over the ocean, I saw on the surface a streak of
blue-black water, parallel with the horizon and flecked with tiny
streaks of white, advancing. The squall was coming. Hurriedly I unrolled
my door-curtain and fastened it securely at the bottom. I was just in
time. As the blast struck the house, the whole structure trembled and
swayed, but held fast. I could hear the shrieking of the wind as it
swept through the neighboring palms, and the occasional crash of a
breaking stem mingled with the dashing rain which now drove violently
against the roof and walls, and I thanked my good-fortune that this
shelter was ready. This gale continued to blow until long after dark.
Indeed it was still raging when I fell asleep, to dream of shipwrecks
and hurricanes.

When I awoke early in the morning and looked out through the ventilator,
I found that the wind had fallen to a moderate breeze and had veered
around to the northeast, bringing a dense fog, and that a fine rain was
falling with a settled appearance such as betokened a wet day. My first
care was to look after my fire. It was almost out, and to rekindle it
from the few smouldering sparks was a matter requiring very tender
manipulation. But at last I had it going again, and my pans of turtle
meat stewing and frying on a gentle blaze, that demanded to be watched
constantly.

This was a good time to overhaul my stock of books to see what they
were, and to find out whether the salt water had left them in condition
for use. They were now perfectly dry, but the bindings were warped and
loosened. The leaves were in many places stuck together, and yellow and
brown leather stains had crept in about the margins. But they still held
together and were legible. The books consisted of a dozen well-selected
novels, a manual of photography, the United States Dispensatory, a
student’s manual of botany, a school geology, and a German word-book.
Looking over these books while I lay on my couch, with an occasional
glance at the cooking, I passed the time very pleasantly all the
morning.

At noon the rain still continued; so, not to be idle, I ran out and
picked up some freshly fallen cocoanuts both to vary my diet and to
obtain a supply of fibre for spinning. The whole afternoon was spent in
preparing the fibre and spinning it into cord, and by night I had
accumulated quite enough to make me a hammock. This, I resolved, should
be my next task if the foul weather continued. The smoke from the
smouldering fire was a source of great annoyance, by getting into my
eyes. I determined to remedy this as soon as I could, by erecting a
fireplace and chimney of some sort. But in the mean time I utilized this
annoying guest as much as possible by hanging several sticks full of
strips of the turtle meat in the peak of the roof, where the smoke
collected thickest, that it might become partially cured. This, I hoped,
would preserve it, as it had been lying in sea water in the shell; and
so it proved. For after this smoking the meat dried without taint, and,
as I subsequently found, made most excellent eating.

With melted turtle fat, a clam-shell, and a wick made of fibre, I
improvised a light, and after it grew dark, fell to looking over my
library until bedtime, the rain still pattering on the thatch when I
retired. The next morning the weather was still boisterous, the rain
driving and the heavy mists sweeping along the sea. The leaden clouds
still hung low and dark. This day I spent indoors working at my hammock
and varying the monotony by hanging up the last of the meat to smoke,
looking over my books and wishing for fair weather. I finished the
hammock, but could not use it on account of the smoke, and was obliged
to sleep on my pallet as before. As the turtle fat was all gone and
therefore no light was to be had, I turned in early and awoke in the
morning at dawn. On going out I found the sky clear and the sun rising
fair. All the foliage looked fresh and bright after the rain, and the
birds were cheerfully singing in the forest. It was a glorious change,
and my confinement in the house for two days gave added zest to it. This
would be a good day for an exploring trip, and I thought I would spend
it in such an expedition.

CHAPTER IV.

PIG-HUNTING.

Among the photographic appliances there was a sort of haversack or bag
with a shoulder-strap, designed to contain plate-holders. This I emptied
and stored with a supply of fried turtle meat and a small bottle of
water.

About seven o’clock I started up the bed of the brook, as affording the
easiest path by which to penetrate the forest that, coming down nearly
to the beach, extended on each hand as far as I could see. To the south
was a stretch of low land, perhaps twenty acres in extent, covered for
the most part with grass, and in the lowest portion with reeds and
rushes. Just as the brook emerged from the forest it was shadowed by a
dense mass of tall canes. The grass I had used in the construction of my
house was a coarse variety growing from two and a half to three feet in
height. On the higher ground grew a slenderer variety with heavy seed
heads, a sample of which I gathered as it seemed to resemble canary
seed, and might serve as food. Great quantities of this grass grew
thickly on the knolls and higher parts of the upland. The water deepened
where I waded through the canebrake, and ran with a sluggish current. I
gathered a great bundle of rushes, and laid them on the bank, intending
to pick them up on my return. They would be useful in weaving me a
substitute for a hat, a convenience which I lacked at that time.

Just at the farther border of the canebrake, there was a muddy place
where pigs had evidently been wallowing, for I found thousands of
tracks about. Here was a favorite resort for them, not above a quarter
of a mile from my house; but I wasted no time then hunting for this
game, as I had formed no plan for its capture.

One thing I wanted to find was a bed of clay, which could be put to many
valuable uses, especially the building of a fireplace and chimney. There
was reason to believe that plenty was to be had on the island, which was
of volcanic formation, and moreover the water of the brook, swollen by
the recent rain, was stained as though with clay.

As I neared the line of cliff and rocks that formed the central ridge or
back-bone of the island, the course of the stream bent to the north, and
the forest was interspersed with small open glades where the great
butterflies floated across through the sunshine, the metallic satiny
blue of their lustrous wings glancing in the light. A flock of parrots
with green, red, and blue plumage were chattering and screaming noisily
in the bordering trees, and an occasional little green lizard would dash
along the fallen trunks or over the rocks like a flash of emerald light.
In one of these glades I found a quantity of shrubs growing about ten
feet high and loaded with berries about the size of pepper-corns. The
outside of these berries seemed covered with a greenish white wax. The
leaf was somewhat like the myrtle. A sample of this, and of several
other varieties of vegetation which were strange to me, I gathered to
take home for identification in my manual of botany. I may here state
that this berry-bearing shrub turned out to be the wax myrtle (_Myrica
cerifera_ of the botanists), and that the waxy coating of the berries
was what is known as bay-berry tallow. This wax can be readily collected
by boiling the drupes and skimming it off as it rises to the surface of
the water; and a bushel of the berries will yield from four to five
pounds of the wax, which can be employed to make excellent candles.

Near the cliffs I came upon a fine bed of clay, and I was so delighted
with this discovery that I immediately began casting about for means of
transporting a good supply to my house. The bed was distant from the
house, as nearly as I could judge, about two miles, and the labor of
carrying such heavy material would be very great. The best plan would be
to knock together a raft of dry wood and float the clay down stream as a
cargo. Vines and creepers to serve as cordage to tie the dead wood
together were abundant, nor did it take me long to collect the wood and
fashion the raft. Indeed, the harder task proved to be the digging out
of the tough clay, as the only implements I had for this purpose were
pointed sticks. But I finally cut a sharp, heavy stake of hard wood, and
by driving this into the clay, was able to pry off large chunks, and
soon had a load ready. On the raft I laid some broad leaves and pieces
of bark to serve as a deck, and on this placed the clay in a great heap,
as much as the raft would carry in the shallow water. Tying a long
creeper to the raft, by which to pull, guide, or hold it back, as the
navigation might require, I started it off into the current, and wading
in the shallow stream, followed it down, holding on to the line as it
floated away. Barring an occasional grounding in the shallow places, my
raft floated serenely along at a good pace, and soon reached port, where
I unloaded the clay and drew out the raft to serve as firewood.

This was a good job well done, and I more than once regretted the time I
had wasted in the lime-burning task, for had I found this clay sooner, a
much better salt pan could have been made with it than with the mortar.
This thought caused me to go and examine the salt pan. I found the
mortar on the bottom dry and hard, so I opened the gate that the sea
water might flow in at the next tide and fill it.

The first use to be made of the clay was in the building of a fireplace
and chimney for the house. My plan was to build up the structure of
sticks, cob-house fashion, and then chink and plaster it with a good
coating of clay. Before this could be done, however, it would be
necessary to put the clay through some pugging process by which it could
be rendered soft and plastic. This I accomplished by trampling the clay
with my naked feet, adding a sprinkling of water now and then, until I
had a mass of soft, mortar-like consistency. Then on the outside of the
house I built up the fireplace close against the wall, and carried the
chimney up about a foot above the highest part of the roof, plastering
the sticks inside thoroughly with the soft clay. When this was done I
cut through the wall to the fireplace, and plastered clay on the jambs
to make all tight. The hearth I formed of harder clay, well pounded down
and mixed with the sand. If no wind came until the structure was dry, it
would become hard and strong enough to resist anything short of a
hurricane. That the drying might be more rapid, I immediately built a
good fire in it, and was rejoiced to find the draught excellent and the
effect of the bright firelight upon the interior quite pleasant and
homelike. This work occupied the whole day.

In the evening I brought a good supply of clay into the house, and using
the chest as a work-bench, busied myself until bedtime with moulding
several vessels of different shapes and sizes for use in cooking and
about the house. I fashioned a rude pot capable of holding about five
gallons; a smaller one to hold a gallon or thereabouts; a water-jar with
two handles by which it might be swung with a cord from the ridgepole,
to contain drinking-water; and others of various shapes and sizes. All
these I dusted over inside and out with dry sand and set aside where
they might dry ready for burning.

That night I slept for the first time in my hammock, and the change was
a comfortable one, though in the early morning hours I felt the need of
some warm covering. For however hot the days might be, the nights on the
island were always cool. However, when it got chilly I turned out and
heaped the dry grass of my former bed into the hammock, and was soon
warm enough.

In the morning, after setting my vessels out in the sun, I turned to the
careful examination of all the samples of vegetation which I had
collected, carefully looking them up in the Botany to find their names
and properties, and also in the Dispensatory. The seed-bearing grass was
undoubtedly canary grass. Besides this and the wax-bearing myrtle, the
only other notable sample was a species of india-rubber-bearing
artocarpus. As the canary grass was ripe, I thought I could not do
better than to harvest a good supply of it at once. The whole of that
day and the next were spent in gathering it and stacking it up near the
house. The labor was very great, as my knife was a poor substitute for a
sickle; but the necessity of some sort of farinaceous food spurred me
on. I gathered in all a great stack ten feet in diameter and twelve feet
high at the peak. This I thatched with grass, just as I had seen grain
stacks thatched at home, that it might be protected from the wet. Great
flocks of small birds were feeding upon this seed where it grew, and I
trapped a dozen or more by unhinging the chest lid and using it propped
up with a stick as a trap.

To try the character of the seed as food, I parched a pint of it over
the fire and then crushed it in a great bivalve shell with a round stone
into a coarse meal. This meal I mixed with water and salt, and it made a
very good sort of cold gruel. This, with the birds broiled on the coals,
made quite the best meal I had so far eaten on the island. The salt pan
had already begun to yield salt, which was crystallizing along the edges
as the water evaporated. The smoked turtle meat continued good, and I
relished it very much. The weather remained fine from day to day, and I
had strong hopes that a vessel might heave in sight at any moment. As a
preparation for such a chance I laid a pile of wood ready to make a
signal fire, and as a permanent signal selected an isolated palm-tree
and denuding it of its leaves, tied a great stick across it near the
top,--an arrangement which, I hoped, might attract the attention of a
passing vessel should I fail to see it. Of material to make a flag I had
nothing to spare except the square of black focussing-cloth belonging to
the camera,--and this I needed every night as a covering, as it was all
I had for that purpose.

As soon as my pots and other vessels were thoroughly dry I built a great
pile of dry wood over them and set fire to it. I greatly feared some of
them might crack with the heat, but fortunately they all came out in a
serviceable condition though by no means very hard. Now that I had a
large vessel in which water could be boiled, I bethought me of the wax
berries and made several trips to gather a store of them. These I boiled
in my large pot, and skimmed off the wax until I had collected fully
forty pounds of it, the product of about ten bushels of the berries. Of
this wax I made candles, or rather rushlights, by dipping dry rushes
into the melted wax and letting it cool on them. When one coat of wax
set I would dip the rush again, and so on, until each rush had four
good coats. One of these candles would burn about four hours and give a
good steady light without sputtering or guttering, though the rush wick
required occasional snuffing. These lights were a great comfort to me at
night, for I could read and do light work until bedtime without the
necessity of keeping up a hot fire.

It was by candle-light that I made me a hat out of rushes as follows:
Selecting about fifty of the cleanest and slenderest I could find, and
all of about equal length, I tied them firmly together by a cord wound
tightly around near the butts. Then I interwove stalks of the tough,
heavy grass, spreading the rushes out into a conical shape until large
enough to fit comfortably on my head. This was the body of the hat. The
brim was produced in the same manner by bending out the ends of the
rushes to a common horizontal plane and then interweaving the grass as
before, finishing the edge of the brim with a grass selvage. This made a
light, cool structure, sufficient to keep the sun off my head, and far
more comfortable than the handkerchief I had worn wound about it as my
sole head-covering up to this time.

Now that the salt pan was doing its work, and a supply of salt within a
few days was considerably more than a mere possibility, I felt justified
in endeavoring to obtain a store of meat. My mind turned to the turtle
and the pigs, especially the latter; for if I could by any means capture
a pig, there would be several weeks’ rations, at least, of fresh,
salted, and smoked pork. Visions of broiled ham and bacon troubled my
dreams. I made an effort to capture another turtle, watching the beach
for the good part of a night; but I saw none. The next morning, I
determined to go upon a regularly organized pig-hunt. The only method of
capturing them was by means of a lasso or the bolas. The forty-foot
line that came ashore around the chest would make an excellent lasso,
and I rigged it at once with a slip noose. I also cut a hard-wood pole
about eight feet in length, charred the end in the fire to harden it,
and made it sharp for use as a lance. A bolas was contrived out of two
stones tied, one at each end, to a stout cord six feet long. Thus
accoutred, I struck off from the creek and made a détour through the
dense jungle so as to force the game into the stream, or at least to be
upon higher ground if they should prove to be in the mud, as I hoped
would be the case. The labor of penetrating the dense scrub was very
great, and the heat intense; not a breath of air could reach these
fastnesses, and perspiration poured from me as though I were in a
Turkish bath.

After a two-hours struggle I found myself nearing the place, and it
became necessary to move with the greatest caution. Every few minutes I
would stop and listen. Presently I could hear the murmur of the brook,
and crawling along cautiously, I came to a fallen tree, the trunk of
which reached quite to the stream. By following this down carefully, I
came to a point where I could see the wallowing-place. There, sure
enough, were the pigs, a score or more in number, mostly lying asleep
and half buried in the mud. I studied the whole situation rapidly but
thoroughly. It seemed probable from the lay of the ground that if
something could frighten the animals from the other side, they would
naturally rush under the fallen tree just below me. Indeed, there was a
well-beaten track at this place going under the trunk, which was at this
point about five feet from the ground, and the stream, the canebrake,
and the dense jungle made this by far the easiest route for the pigs.

My plan was made instantly, thus: I would throw the bolas at a
half-grown pig that was rooting about near the jungle on the farther
side of the group, and take my chance of the herd coming this way when
they broke. I unrolled my lasso and laid it ready for instant use,
placed my lance where it could be grasped, and cautiously rising, that I
might have free play, swung the bolas around twice and let it fly.
Gyrating like twin planets, the stones sped fairly through the air, true
to the mark; one passed under the pig, and the other swung behind him,
wrapping the cords around the hind-quarters and legs, and bowling him
over like a ten-pin. The little fellow set up a squeal, and then, whoof!
whoof! with a grunt and a squeal, the whole herd sprang up, looked
around, saw their overturned and struggling companion, and started
directly toward my place of concealment. In the mean time I had crouched
down out of view, and spread my noose ready for business. Underneath
they ran squealing and snorting in great panic, and I let them pass as I
had my eye on a great boar who was very deliberate in his movements and
appeared to disdain undignified flight. He slowly advanced, however,
champing his tusks until they frothed, and shaking his great head. I
thought it best, in view of his great size and weight, to take a turn of
the lasso around a limb and give it a hitch as a holdfast, as my own
strength would not be enough to stop the brute. I had scarcely done this
when his head came under the tree, and I swung the noose deftly over it
as he emerged, and then hauled in the slack. The astonished beast sprang
forward with a great bound and jerked the rope from my hands with such
violence that I was thrown to the ground.

When I scrambled up I saw the rope tighten until it sung in the air like
a bowstring, and then slacken again. I could not see the boar, as he was
hidden in the long grass; but I seized my sharpened stick lance and ran
toward where he ought to be. Suddenly the great brute emerged from the
grass, facing me, and charged toward me, evidently bent on mischief, the
flakes of froth flying from his tusks. There was no time to get out of
the way, nor even get the lance around into position, and I thought I
should speedily feel his sharp tusks. He was almost upon me before I
could realize the situation. Just at this critical juncture I felt the
lasso fly up under my feet, throwing me over backward, and I caught a
glimpse of the boar as he turned a half-somersault and plunged down on
his side. When he fell he was not two feet from me. The lasso had been
doubled around a bush and had thus brought the desperate creature up
just in time to save me. The lance was still in my grasp, and I got to
my feet before my enemy could recover. Now it was my turn. Knowing he
could not reach me on this side, I came close up to him as he was making
the dirt fly with his legs in a vain endeavor to get up, and drove the
sharpened stick with all my force and weight into his side, just back of
the shoulder.

This ended the battle as the stick went half-way through him. Panting
for breath and with the perspiration fairly running into my eyes, I
turned away and left him to die in peace, and went to look after the
pig, thinking I had been a great fool to tackle the boar at all. I found
the pig still struggling with the bolas wrapped around him. I
immediately determined to keep this one alive. To do this, I must get my
lasso loose from the dying boar. When I went back I found him just
kicking his last. With the lasso I secured the pig in such manner that
he could not get away, and then removed the bolas and let him up, giving
him very little rope as I had no mind to let him run into the brush and
entangle himself. I then proceeded to flay the boar, cutting off the
hams and choicer parts, and securing as much of the lard and fat as I
was able. I carried this down the bed of the creek to the house. I then
went back for the pig and endeavored to get him home alive; but I found
it utterly impossible to do so, as the vicious, obstinate brute could
not be made to go in any but the wrong direction. So I was finally
obliged to haul him tight up against a tree and kill him.

I now had a great store of pork, and the next thing was to cure it. Salt
was now the important thing, and I went to my salt pan to see what the
prospect was. To my great satisfaction, I found the water all dried up,
leaving a fine layer of glistening salt, thickest in the lower part of
the basin and gradually thinning away to a mere frosting at the edges.
It was quite dry and caked, so that there was no trouble to get it up
from the bottom, and when I had heaped it together in the centre, there
were, I should judge, over fifty pounds. This precious commodity I
carried at once to the house so that it might be under shelter from the
dew and rain.

I turned to at once to “dry-salt” the pork, rubbing each piece
thoroughly on all sides, and piling the whole up in the now empty turtle
shell with the breast plate weighed down on it with heavy stones. The
only place where I could store this meat was in the single room of my
house. But I determined to remedy this by building as soon as possible a
lean-to at the back of the house, which I could use first as a
smoke-house, and then as a storeroom for my provisions. The turtle meat,
now perfectly cured, I stored temporarily in the chest.

That night I lay in my hammock in position to see the starlit ocean
through one of the ventilators, and thought over my situation. I could
not now complain of lack of food, for there was a supply sufficient to
last me two months at least, and there was reason to suppose that it
would not be at all difficult to replenish the store. In my porous
earthen jar, slung at the head of my hammock in the cool air-current,
and by its slow evaporation cooling the liquid contents, was pure, cool,
sweet water to drink, and outside was a running brook from which to fill
it as often as required. I could safely hope to support myself here as
long as might be necessary. But as I had no desire to remain
indefinitely a prisoner on this island, I began to turn my thoughts
persistently upon the problem of building a boat to get away in. If in
the mean time a vessel of some sort should heave in sight I was prepared
to take advantage of the chance; and if none came I would still have my
work started and no time unnecessarily lost.

Before I went to sleep that night I had planned a method of building a
boat which I thought would be within the possibility of accomplishment,
and had determined to begin work on the morrow.

CHAPTER V.

BOAT-BUILDING.

When I roused the next morning the first thought that came to me was
about the building of the boat. It would be necessary to have a shed to
work under, large enough to contain a boat, both for shelter from the
rain and for shade from the pitiless tropical sun. The building of such
a shed was therefore the first task. As a suitable shipyard I selected
the side of the stream on the sands of the sea-beach, and far enough
above tide to be safe from a possible storm. Here I put up eight posts
in the sand. To get these posts (for they had to be hunted for among the
fallen wood), to carry them one or two at a time for a distance ranging
from half a mile to a mile and a half, and to set them up in holes dug
at the proper distances apart, was a whole day’s work, and left me only
time to overhaul my dry-salting before bed-time. I went over each piece
of meat, rubbing it again with salt, and turning it the other side up,
and finished by putting the weights on again as before. This salting and
turning every day would be necessary for about two weeks, and then the
meat would be ready for the smoke-house, which I would endeavor in the
meantime to get ready to receive it.

The next day I spent getting poles for rafters, and lashing them
together to form the roof of my workshop. Then a rain storm set in and
lasted three days, during which I was practically confined to the house,
and busied myself indoors with making an easy chair out of a dry stick
of cedar that split readily into straight pieces. It was a pleasure to
work in this soft, straight-grained, fragrant wood, and I made a good,
strong, comfortable arm-chair, dowelling and cording the parts together,
and framing a sort of base for it so that it would stand firm on the
sand floor. I could now sit and read with comfort, or look at the gray,
rainy sea as it stretched its misty plane away before my door. It was at
this time that I began to keep an irregular sort of journal, entering my
thoughts and doings from time to time as the enforced semi-idleness of
rainy weather prompted me. Besides pencils and pens there was paper
enough in my stock, wet and stained and wrinkled though it had been, to
last me indefinitely.

As soon as the rain was over I took the first day to construct my
provision and smoke-house, in order that I might store the meat in it. A
doorway was cut from my living-room into this store-room, and I purposed
fitting a tight door into it before smoking my pork. I busied myself
after that on my work-shed until it was finished. This roof I covered
with palm-leaves,--not leaves of the cocoanut-palm, but of the great,
spreading fan-palm, a single one of which was often three or four feet
in diameter. I had used these leaves in making my storehouse roof, and
had secured a giant specimen in a horizontal position over my front door
as a sort of porch, and to keep the sun out of the house when the door
was open.

The work-shed when finished was about twenty-four feet long by ten feet
wide, with a shed or single-pitch roof, at the upper side about eight
feet, and at the lower side--which was toward the sea--about five feet
from the ground. Underneath was the clean sand of the beach. I was now
ready to begin the actual work of boat-building, and my first need was
a supply of clay,--so great a quantity, in fact, as would take me
several days of hard work to raft down the stream to the boat-shed.

You will see as I proceed what part this material was to play. After a
great deal of labor, wading up and down the creek, digging, loading,
rafting, and unloading, I at last accumulated a sufficient amount for my
purpose in a great heap close to the boat-shed. I next proceeded to
smooth the sand beneath the shed, and to compact it into a smooth, hard
floor as follows: I took of perfectly dry clay several bushels in
fragments, and crushed these to a fine dust; this dust I sprinkled
evenly all over the sand floor to the depth of an inch or more,
sprinkling and wetting the dust and the sand liberally with a bough
dipped in the sea water. As the mixture grew dry I trampled it with my
naked feet until it was smooth and firm, sprinkling a little dry sand on
the surface and trampling it in. The result was a dustless, dry floor,
hard enough to support my weight readily, and smooth enough for my
purpose.

On this floor, with a stretched cord rubbed with charcoal, I marked, as
carpenters do with a chalk line, a straight line twenty-one feet long or
thereabouts; this was to be the length of the boat, and its centre line
from stem to stern. Using the cord as a measure, I laid off at each side
of this centre line, the horizontal outline of my proposed boat. The
greatest breadth of beam I made about six feet, and tapered both the
stem and the stern alike, after the manner of a whaleboat. At each end
of the centre line I drove a stake upright, and notched the top to carry
a guide line stretched from one to the other directly over the centre
line. Then, with tempered clay, I marked the outline of the boat by
building up a little wall about three inches in breadth and as many in
height all around from stem to stern on both sides. The space inside
this wall I filled with sand, sprinkled and compacted until it was level
with the top of the wall. Then I added to the wall another course of
clay and filled in again; and so kept on adding and filling and sloping
in the wall, until I had a mound of clay-coated sand, shaped like a boat
turned upside down.

This labor, simple as it sounds in statement, took me over a week, and
before it was done I was interrupted by the necessity for setting my
smoke-house in order for curing the hams and bacon. I built for the
smoking a slow fire of bark, which required attention only once or twice
each day. The clay form under the boat-shed I left to get dry and hard.
It was my design, as I have no doubt you have already guessed, to use
this clay form as a core or groundwork, upon which to shape my boat.

The next step was a most serious task; I had to procure a piece of
timber for a keel, and shape it and fit to it two pieces, one at the
stem, and one at the stern. The timber must be new and strong. There was
absolutely no way to get this timber except by felling a tree which must
be at least a foot in diameter. I could not hope to do this with a
pocket knife except by an appalling amount of labor, and at the
continual risk of breaking the blade; and, moreover, I did not want to
subject this valuable instrument to any more wear than was absolutely
necessary. I now carried it on my person tied securely to a lanyard as
my most highly prized possession. But I thought I could manage to get
down a tree by the aid of fire. Having selected the tree, I plastered
the trunk with wet clay all around for a height of five or six feet,
excepting a space of about two feet next the ground; then piled up dry
fuel on the windward side and set fire to it. After an hour or two the
trunk caught fire and slowly burned. I kept checking the fire from
eating upward by dabbing wet clay on, until finally the tree burned
through and fell. It was a much less difficult task to burn it in two at
the proper length after it was once down.

This done, the next thing was to reduce the stick to the correct lateral
dimensions, which should be ten inches by three or thereabouts. As there
was no saw, adze, or axe to be had, this reduction could be done in no
other way so easily as by splitting the trunk with hard-wood wedges. I
made several and charred them in the fire, then sharpened them and drove
four of them in a line into the wood of the trunk at equal distances
apart. By judicious management, driving them little by little, one after
another, the trunk was riven asunder, and a second split produced a
piece of the right size when a little had been split off from each edge.
The plank was not as smooth as if turned out by a saw mill; but it was
strong and was smooth enough for my purpose. I dragged it down to the
boat-shed, and went back to the log and split off in like manner a piece
of suitable size to make the stem and stern posts. I set the keel timber
up on edge on the clay mould, securing it temporarily with some lumps of
clay until I could mark the correct length. The stem and stern posts I
cut and halved on to the keel, pinning them on by pins.

The drill by means of which I bored the holes for the pins was fashioned
by inserting a piece of sharp chalcedony splinter into a split stick and
securely wrapping the stick with a piece of cord. This stick or shank,
which was about two feet in length, carried a ball of dry clay of three
or more pounds in weight, and mounted about six inches from the
chalcedony point. Through the upper end of the shank was a hole passing
through which was a cord secured at each end to a loose cross-stick
about a foot long. By twisting this cord around the shank the movement
up and down of the loose cross-stick would cause the drill to revolve
first in one direction and then in the other, the momentum of the
whirling ball of clay causing the apparatus to continue its motion far
enough to rewind the cord. This device is much used by primitive
peoples, and it certainly proved a most effective instrument to me; for
without renewing the drill point I bored five holes at each end, through
the keel piece and the uprights.

The gunwale I made by splitting cane into long, thin strips half an inch
in width, and laying these in a bundle tied securely round every three
or four inches with a wrapping of cord. By this means I produced a sort
of stiff, untwisted cable. I secured the ends of these gunwale cables
firmly to the stem and stern uprights by cord passed through holes. I
next got a great store of a sort of long, slender-stemmed creeper, which
I fancy must have been a species of climbing palm, though I am not sure;
for there was no description of it in my books. The wood of this creeper
was tough and exceedingly fibrous. Of it I proposed to make the ribs of
the boat, setting them about three inches apart along the whole length
of the boat. The creepers which I chose for this purpose were about half
an inch in diameter, and smooth and uniform in size. Holes drilled
through the keel piece close to the clay mould permitted the passage of
these ribs over the mould from gunwale to gunwale, where they were
fastened by being inserted in the mass of cane splints and securely tied
there with several wrappings of cöir. Of course I had to stop this work
from time to time to manufacture the necessary supply of cöir.

Such interruptions were a relief to me, and I would sit in the shade of
the palms spinning away and thinking of my Mohawk Valley home, or gazing
out upon the broad sea, where the perfect shading from deep blue to
faint cobalt and fainter green, the long swell, and the transparent,
curling breakers, the restless sea fowl, and the serene, cloud-flecked
sky, formed a view of which I never tired. It is a mistake, it seems to
me, to speak of the sea as a lonesome thing. Its ceaseless motion, its
constant change of color and of mood, never exactly alike and yet never
entirely unlike, all lend to it an indefinable charm. It may, indeed, be
filled with solitude, but it also is filled with companionship for the
solitary, as I learned then to realize.

The island was the home of an astonishing number of species of small
birds; several different varieties of the parrot family flew from tree
to tree in flocks; different kinds of finches, many of bright plumage,
in great numbers haunted the bushes about the stream; larks,
flycatchers, gorgeous scarlet tanagers, little wrens, and tiny
humming-birds were very numerous. The bird that I took most interest in
was a daring little fellow, perhaps some sort of wren, of a brownish
color, specked with pearly white spots. This self-contained and
self-satisfied little fowl had a habit of carrying his tail stuck
straight up in the air and cocking his head to one side in a most
comical manner. This species seemed quite fearless of me, and I often
saw them come hopping up on the ground near to where I sat, as though
bent on ascertaining what sort of creature I was. Scarcely bigger than a
walnut, with a tiny “chirp, chirp,” these dainty creatures seemed to be
introducing themselves politely to me, and deprecating any possible
unfriendliness that might have arisen, or might thereafter arise between
us on account of an occasional seed stolen from my stack. At one time I
had the notion to capture one or more of these little birds and train
them as pets; but their courage and confidence utterly disarmed me.

When all the vine ribs had been fitted to the boat the next thing was to
apply an exterior sheathing. This also I constructed of the long smooth
creepers, uniform in size and laid close together each piece extending
the whole length of the boat. I secured the ends of these vines to the
stem and stern pieces by setting them into a groove or rebate, and
dowelling a piece of wood down firmly upon them. At intervals I sewed or
tied the rib and plank vines together with strong thin cord. When this
was done I had the form of a boat, but of course it would leak like a
sieve, and moreover would be crank as a basket. The next thing was to
procure some sort of gum or resin, with which to coat the whole
structure and thus bind it all together and strengthen it, as well as to
make it water-tight.

There were trees of the pine or fir species growing on the island, high
on the rocky backbone. I could see them distinctly, and had little doubt
that they would furnish me with at least some of the ingredients for a
sort of pitch, that might be made to answer my purpose. Up to this time
I had never ascended the precipitous rocks and cliffs which formed a
miniature mountainrange running north and south through the centre of
the island. Now I resolved to make the attempt and to ascertain
definitely what could be found there in the way of pitch or resin, among
the several species of evergreens. To ascend these cliffs and rocks
through the thickets and tangled vines was no easy task. Giant beds of
fern, fallen tree-trunks, jungles of thorny bush, barred the way
apparently at all points. The most feasible route seemed to be up a
chasm through which came a tinkling rivulet to join the stream, with
many a fall and leap, boiling now, and now dashing in spray over the
fern-embowered rocks. It was a hard, hot climb. The humming-birds, like
flying jewels,--rubies, topazes, amethysts, lapis lazuli,--darted to and
fro in a dozen varieties, pausing to hover over the deep, scarlet
chalices of the trumpet flower. Far above in the clear, deep blue of
heaven slowly swung a circling vulture on motionless wing, a mere speck
against the light.

At last I reached the top, a sort of broken rocky plateau covered with
trees among which were numerous evergreens. After a brief rest to
recover breath, I examined some of the trees, and found to my great
delight a species of pitch pine among them. The scaly, reddish bark was
bedewed with tears of gum which I knew would with a little boiling or
drying be converted into a hard resin. Without losing any time I went to
work with my knife upon the trees. I bared a place of its bark on each
of a dozen trunks, about three feet in height and six inches in width,
and cut a notch at the bottom to collect the gum, scoring the bared
place with cross cuts at intervals of a few inches. This occupied me
until it was within two hours of sunset, and I dared stay no longer that
day, for fear of being benighted on the way home.

Early next morning I returned with my lasso, an earthenware vessel, and
my burning-glass. The wounded trees had already begun to yield a supply
of sticky sap or gum, which I scraped down and collected in the earthen
pot, until it was quite full. I placed this to melt and boil over a slow
fire and proceeded to wound about a dozen more trees. That night I slept
on the summit, and worked hard all next day collecting and boiling the
resin, so that when I went the next night to the house I was able to
carry with me twenty-five or thirty pounds of the material,--a hard,
dark resin.

At this labor I spent about a week longer, sometimes going home at
night, and sometimes sleeping on the rocks, until I had got together, as
I thought, sufficient for my purpose. Now I wanted some grease to mix
with the resin, and concluded to kill a pig for this purpose. I had to
wait two days to find the herd, but finally succeeded in capturing a
fine young porker, which yielded a good store of lard and fat, much more
indeed than I needed for the pitch kettle, as well as a fine supply of
fresh pork-chops and some meat for the smoke-house.

I melted the resin in my five-gallon pot, and added to it sufficient
melted pig-fat, so that the pitch when cold would be quite stiff and
hard, but not brittle. With this hot, tenacious pitch I payed the whole
exterior of the boat with a good thick coat, penetrating and filling all
the interstices. When this was hard and cold I tried to lift the boat
from the clay core in order to turn it over. To my disgust I found that
the pitch had stuck it fast to the core in a thousand places, so that it
could not be moved. There was nothing to do, therefore, except to
undermine the whole structure, dig the sand out, and take out the dry,
hard clay from below, piece by piece,--an immense labor, as you may well
conceive. But this was finally accomplished without injury to the boat.
I found that the structure was entirely too flexible for practical
navigation, and that it would be necessary to deck over the greater
part, if for no other reason than to stiffen it. I decided to make an
air-tight compartment at each end, extending about three feet, and carry
a deck fore and aft over the entire boat, excepting a well hole in the
middle, six feet long by three feet wide, which was to be surrounded by
a washboard, or raised edge, about six inches in height. Having cleared
away the débris, I turned my boat right side up.

I was very anxious to get this boat completed, and had been working hard
at it every day for over a month. I wanted to know if it would at least
float properly, and therefore labored from early dawn to dark without
cessation. One night I had been restless and wakeful, and got up without
appetite for parched seed and smoked meat. Fancying this was merely from
excitement about the work, and from want of variety in diet, I concluded
that the next day I would knock off work for a time and go fishing. But
when I went down to the shed and got to work I felt tired and languid.
There was a great pain in my head, chilly sensations ran up and down my
back, and pains in the limbs and a general depression of spirits warned
me of an approaching illness. Fearing a collapse I started for the
house, when suddenly I grew faint and fell on the sand, and lay there
for several hours, a fierce fever raging through me. An intense thirst
stimulated my feeble energies to make one or two attempts to reach the
house; but I failed and crawled back to the shed. Once I managed to
reach the creek and get a drink, but it was preferable to suffer thirst,
I thought, rather than make the attempt again. About sundown the fever
left me, and though much weakened I felt well enough to get to the
house, light a candle from the last sparks of my neglected fire, and
turn into my hammock.

Evidently I was seized with some malarious disorder. Anxious to know
what I could do for myself in the way of medicine, I got the
Dispensatory and began a search for febrifuges. I could not hope to find
Peruvian bark on the island as this region was, I conceived, out of its
habitat. However, I made pencil notes of everything I could find
mentioned as a febrifuge. Among other things I noted that it was
customary in the Campagna near Rome for the fever-stricken inhabitants
to make a sort of tea of sliced lemons, which was said to cure the
Campagna fever. Now I remembered to have seen wild limes growing along
the upper part of the creek, and thought if I could get strength enough
to gather some the next day I would try an infusion of them.

That night I slept pretty well, and in the morning got up feeling fairly
well. But warned by yesterday’s experience, I dreaded a recurrence of
the chill and fever, either that day or the next. So I went immediately
and gathered a quantity of the ripest of the limes. These I sliced thin
with my knife and poured boiling water over them in a small vessel, and
set them aside to steep. As soon as the infusion was cold I took a small
sip to see what the effect would be. I found no bad consequences, and in
an hour took another larger sip. This I kept up every hour all day, and
did some work on the boat. That night I drank about a quart of hot
water, and buried myself in a bed of dry grass in the house, with a
small fire going. I was soon in a profuse perspiration, and after a
while fell sound asleep and awoke in the morning hungry. Whether the
lime tea checked the fever, or whether the attack was no more than a
passing biliousness, I do not know. At any rate I soon recovered, and
was not ill again while on the island.

I now resumed work persistently on the boat, and finally the air-tight
compartments and decking, made like the rest of the vessel of vines
coated with pitch, were done. I got some rollers under the boat and
pushed it into the creek, where it floated true and buoyant as I could
desire. Mooring it securely I got on board and found it stanch, and
every way much better than I had hoped. To my great joy it did not leak
a drop, though I had expected to have a great deal of patching to do.

My next task was to rig a mast and sail. The mast I had already brought
down from the heights, in the form of a slender evergreen, trimmed and
peeled of its bark. Nor was I long in stepping and rigging it with the
necessary stays. The making of the sail was a much longer matter. I had
given this question a great deal of thought, and while at work on the
boat had carefully weighed several different devices, but had been
unable to hit upon a feasible plan. Therefore I deferred it until the
very last thing, fitting on a rudder and even making and burning a water
jar and a cover for it to contain a supply of fresh water on board,
before regularly beginning work on the sail. Finally, however, all was
finished except the sail, and I was forced to the task. The best thing I
could think of for the purpose was strips of bark woven on cord after
the fashion in which some window blinds are made from wooden slats and
cord; and as this could best be used with what I believe is termed a
latteen rig, that is to say a single short mast in the centre of the
boat, with a long yard suspended at its top and inclined upward from the
bow aft, upon which the sail is hung, I changed my mast and stepped it
to suit such a rig. Then I procured a long, slender, tapering pole for a
yard. I found a tree with a smooth, flexible inner bark, and after a
great deal of labor secured a sufficient quantity, cut in strips one and
a half inches in width, and some of it as long as the boom. Then I spun
a great quantity of cord, and tied doubled lengths of it to the boom at
intervals of a foot. Then laying the boom down on the beach I placed a
strip of the bark alongside it and tied it there with all the cords; by
the side of that I added another a little shorter and tied it, and so on
until I had built up a triangular sail of the bark strips attached to
the boom by the cords, the strips running parallel with the boom. In
order to make it hold the wind better, I punched holes in the edges of
the bark strips, and tied the edges of adjacent strips together.

When I had this sail complete and rigged to the mast the wind was
blowing away from the shore, and I had to wait until the next day to
give it a trial. But I made everything ready, including food and water
and a ballasting of stones, and on the next morning, the wind blowing
quietly on shore, I went on board, cast off, and poled the craft out of
the creek, watching a good chance to push her through the breakers at
the bar. I got safely out, and hoisted the sail. For a moment she fell
off and rose and sunk with the swell, but taking the wind fair,
presently leaned down until the lee gunwale was nearly buried in the
green water, and began to forge ahead rapidly, fairly sliding through
the water, with the wake running away behind and a white curl of foam
racing from the bow. I tried her on all tacks, on and off the wind,
ratching and running before it, and found that the best point of sailing
was on the wind. This was entirely satisfactory. So delighted was I with
the operation of the boat that I tacked away in stretches of two or
three miles until I had beat up a good league from the island, and then
turned and ran before the wind straight for the creek, where I arrived
safe, and moored the boat securely in her snug harbor.

The building of this boat had taken me three months; but it was at last
finished, and offered me a means, at the first fair wind, of sailing
away for Martinique or some adjacent island, a port which I could fairly
expect to make in two or three days at farthest. I went to bed that
night in a happier and more contented frame of mind than I had
theretofore experienced on the island.

CHAPTER VI.

“DUKE 2D, PROPERTY OF H. SENLIS.”

As the wind next day was in the wrong quarter, I set deliberately about
lading my new boat, as far as my means went, with all the provisions and
appliances that seemed necessary for the voyage. This was all done by
noon, and I sat down idly to wait for a wind that should promise settled
weather, and be in the right direction. The first, second, and third
days passed without any prospect of change, and I grew very impatient.
Things seemed to have lost their interest for me. The one idea of
getting away drove all else out of mind. I walked to and fro along the
beach like a caged animal, overhauled my cargo, added to it, changed the
water in my storage jar, and did a hundred useless things. Still the
breeze blew softly and steadily from the south of east,--a head wind,
which would oblige me to ratch all the way to Martinique.

On the third night, as I was sitting out on the beach in the moonlight,
I bethought me of the ancient rhyme of the mariner who, cursed by
everlasting head winds, toiled on day by day only to be blown back night
after night. There was plenty of time now to plan what I should do when
I reached Martinique. Up to this time I had not thought it out very
carefully. So to pass the dreary hours I began to go over the whole
programme mentally. The more I thought about it, however, the less
prospect could I see of getting at Martinique what appliances and
assistance I wanted, even if I had possessed money enough. I should
have to go clear back to New York to get another diving apparatus, and
that of itself would consume the greater part of my funds.

When this conviction forced itself on my mind, I was aghast. Must I give
up the search for the treasureship merely for lack of funds, after all
my trouble and expense? I sprang up and began walking up and down the
sand at the very edge of the breakers, like a wild man. Abandon my
enterprise? Never, never! I would rather stay and die on the island than
do that. Why not, indeed, stay on the island and take my chances. I had
built a boat out of nothing, and why could I not contrive some means for
at least finding the sunken galleon and locating it accurately? Then,
with something definite in prospect, it would surely not be difficult to
go to Martinique and there interest somebody else to furnish the
necessary funds for the enterprise, and divide the proceeds. There
seemed to be wisdom in this course, and I resolved to adopt it
forthwith.

Even as I made this resolution a heavy cloud passed over the moon, a
faint breeze stirred through the rattling palm-leaves, and putting up a
moistened finger I found the wind had changed to the southwest; soon it
began to increase, and in an hour there was a fine steady breeze blowing
exactly from the best quarter for my voyage, if I had chosen to take
advantage of it. I was thankful at that moment that it had not come
sooner. I looked long and musingly upon the darkening water and it must
have been nearly midnight when, after seeing carefully to the security
of my boat, I turned into the hammock with a contented mind, and buoyed
up by a firm resolve to succeed.

In the morning, as I was going down to the stream, I saw approaching
along the sands a dog. Nothing could have been more astonishing to me
than this sight. What could a dog be doing on this island? When and how
did he get here? Where dogs are, there also are men. This dog could
never have come here alone. The animal saw me as soon as I saw him, and
came running up wagging his tail in the most friendly way, running
around in half-circles, and barking with delight. I called him up and
stroked his head. He was a fine black Gordon setter, with an intelligent
high-bred appearance. Around his neck a chain collar bore a plate
engraved “Duke 2d, property of H. Senlis.” “Duke, good Duke,” said I,
“where is your master?” But the only answer Duke could make was a series
of delighted contortions, jumps, and short barks. I went to the house
and got some dried turtle-meat, which he ate voraciously, and seemed to
call for more. When I had fed him all he seemed to demand he curled up
on the sand as contentedly as though this was a long sought
resting-place. With his head over one paw and one eye occasionally
opening to look at me, he was the very picture of contentment and
satisfaction.

As I sat eating my breakfast of parched-seed gruel and broiled bacon,
and looking at the dog curled up on the sandy floor of my house, I
speculated on the method of his arrival on the island. Was he
shipwrecked like myself, or left by some hunting party? Was he here
alone, or were those to whom he belonged still on the island; and if so
where were they? The whole island was not above six or seven miles in
length, and three or four in breadth. Yet the dense forest growth, the
jungles and cane-brakes, the central ridge of precipitous rocks could
easily conceal the presence of other people, especially if they were on
the other side. At any rate I thought it high time for me to take a
careful survey of the entire domain, and this, if for no other purpose,
to satisfy my curiosity aroused by the startling advent of Duke 2d.

When I first saw the dog he was coming up apparently from the southern
end of the island, and I concluded to start in that direction down the
beach, and go as far as possible along the sea,--quite around the whole
island if that were practicable. With this view I packed my haversack
with provisions, and filled my large bottle with fresh water, and swung
it by a cord under my arm. Taking my lasso and lance and burning-glass,
I started down the beach. Duke followed or ran on before, as much
pleased apparently as though we were on a gunning expedition. The beach
extended south from my house for a distance of about three miles, and
then terminated in a low, rocky shore covered with cactus and thorny
shrubs. Beyond this the southernmost extremity of the island extended in
a rocky headland, and there were some low rocks detached from the shore
and covered at high tide, forming dangerous breakers, to which a
navigator rounding the southern cape would wish to give a wide berth.

In the sand and among the rocks where the cactus grew I captured an
armadillo. This harmless little creature, about the size of a sucking
pig, was called to my attention by the dog, which had discovered it and
seemingly did not know what to make of such a strange customer, covered
with its curious, horny armor. Duke was sniffing and jumping back and
barking, when I caught sight of the hindquarters of the armadillo just
disappearing in the sand. The animal was burrowing itself out of sight
with astonishing rapidity in the loose soil. At first I could not
conceive what it was, as it appeared from the view I had more like some
sort of a reptile than an animal. But I speedily recognized it, and
pulled it bodily out of the tunnel it was excavating. The little fellow
did not attempt to run away, but curled itself up into a ball with its
head and feet tucked out of sight. Duke went up to it and turned it
several times over with his paw, but evidently could have inflicted no
injury upon it had he been minded to make the attempt. However, as roast
armadillo is noted as a savory dish I speedily put an end to its life by
inserting my knife blade between the joints of its armor, and it was
added to our larder at once.

We now crossed over through the rocks to the west shore, which was
formed, so far as I could see, of rocks and cliffs, which rose bolder
and higher toward the north. The travelling along these cliffs was very
bad, and at a break I descended to the narrow margin of sand and rocks
at their feet, left bare by the receding tide. Here the walking was
fairly good, and we made our way along at a good pace for a mile. Now
the shore rose boldly up in a sheer cliff nearly a hundred feet in
height, and the beach was little more than a mass of fallen rock. In a
shallow indentation or bay we, or rather the dog, discovered bubbling up
through the sand a spring of cold, pure water which must have been under
the sea at high tide. There was also an abundance of small oysters
attached to the rocks, and I ate of them for my lunch.

At this spring I refilled my water bottle and sat down to rest in the
shade of the rocks. The dog seemed very uneasy for some reason, and
thinking there might be some animal about, I got up and looked around.
To my great alarm I soon discovered that the tide had risen so far as
partly to submerge some of the rocks that were dry when I had passed a
half-hour before. It would be no trifling matter to be caught in this
place by the tide; but whether it were best to go on or go back I could
not tell. However, as I knew the road behind me I determined to retrace
my steps. I had not gone a quarter of a mile before I found that it
would be impossible to pass in that direction. Whether it would be
practicable to proceed in the other I could not foresee; it was so
doubtful that I had no time to lose. So I hurried back again to the
spring, where a margin of sand was still uncovered by the rising waves.
Here I soon found that advance as well as retreat along the water was
cut off. Above me frowned the perpendicular cliffs. The situation seemed
full of desperate peril, and was grave enough in all reason.

I felt much as one might fancy a rat feels when the door of the trap
snaps on him, and breathless he circles about and finds no exit. Duke
was crouched down and shivering as with an instinct of apprehension.
There was a sense of numb despair with it all--a sickening sense of
giving up the fight, as though it were useless to strive against brutal
ill fortune. Why did I ever come into this rat-trap? Now a man should
not waste any time or thought on vain repinings, self indignation or
accusation, under such circumstances, but turn his attention to the real
question, and keep his eye fixed firmly and singly on the main chance.
But it is not always easy to think when and of what you ought. Indeed, I
found myself speculating as to how the end would come. Inch by inch the
water would creep up. Duke would first be swept under, unless I chose to
support him for a while. Then little by little I would be submerged,
knees, middle, chest, shoulders, neck, chin, lips,--and then the final
struggle. I cast my eyes up to see how far above my height the water
would rise. The marks of high water were there plain on the cliff, and I
calculated that I should be submerged at least eight feet at high water.

All along, the rock rose sheer up without a break to the very top.
There was one place, however, where the cliff, undermined by the waves,
had split off and fallen down, making a ledge about twenty-five or
thirty feet above the water’s edge; but there seemed to be no way of
climbing up to this ledge,--indeed it overhung the base. Upon it grew
two or three small trees, and one of them leaned out over the sea. When
my faculties once more began to assert themselves, it occurred to me
that it might be possible to cast the end of my lasso over this
projecting tree-trunk and thus perhaps haul myself up to the ledge hand
over hand.

The conception of this idea was almost equivalent to its execution; I
felt that I was saved. To one end of the lasso I tied a stone, and
secured the other end firmly around the body of the dog. This stone I
cast easily over the tree trunk, and swung the rope in such a manner
that the weighted end would twist several times around the body of the
rope. I pulled and tested it with my weight, and it held firm. Casting
my lance up on the ledge, I climbed hand over hand up the rope,
occasionally steadying myself with feet against the rock, until I had a
firm grasp on the trunk and was safely on the platform. Leaning over I
called to the dog, and when he came up close to the rock I spoke to him
kindly to allay his fears, and then hauled him up. The platform was at
least ten feet wide at the middle part, perhaps forty feet long, and
tapered away to a mere ledge at each end. There was plenty of dry dead
sticks and wood which had fallen down from above, and, as the afternoon
sun shone hot and bright in the western sky, it was not long before I
had kindled a fire with my burning-glass, and had spitted the armadillo
for a roast.

I now sat and watched the sea rise and wash in breakers on the base of
the cliff, and shuddered to think what would have been my fate but for
the lasso and the timely aid it afforded me. I watched a glorious
sunset wherein long bars of purple cloud edged with molten gold, and
fleecy flakes of burning vermilion melted on a sky of gray-green light,
over an ocean of dark blue shot with violet, and here and there tinted
and gilded with crimson and gold from the red, flaming ball that was
just dipping to the horizon. And far into the night I sat awaiting the
rising of the moon, the novelty of the situation driving all inclination
for sleep from me. Duke was a good companion, and inclined to sit out
the company. He lay with his head on my knee, occasionally looking up
into my face in a truly sociable and friendly manner.

About nine o’clock at night, there being then a dead calm, I heard
distinctly the beat of a screw propeller, accompanied by the regular
blowing at slow intervals of escaping steam. I looked all about for the
vessel, and presently made out her mast-head light, like a star
quivering on the horizon. Gradually it lifted above the water in the
southern sky, and I knew it would pass me quite near at hand unless its
course were changed. There were still some embers of my fire alight, and
nothing would have been easier than to make a signal which doubtless
would have been seen on board. But though I gathered the embers together
instinctively, I took no step toward making the signal. She drew nearer
and nearer, and finally passed along the coast not half a mile distant,
trailing a long plume of smoke. So near was she at one time that in the
starlight and upon the light of the sea I could distinguish her form and
build, and conjectured that she was some ocean tramp, sliding along
stern deep down, and nose cocked out of the water, looking for a cargo
from port to port,--an iron steamer, such as are sent out by thousands
now-a-days to wander over all the seas and oceans, and which, going
from port to port, finally return to the home port, perhaps when it is
time to lay their sides and ribs into the junk heap for old iron.

When the moon rose the steamer was a pale, gray spot at the end of a
long stain of dark smoke far in the northern horizon. It finally
disappeared, the smoke fading away and mingling with the faint
mist-wreaths that stole up from the sea under the moonlight. I went to
bed on the rock with Duke coiled up beside me, and slept until broad
day. I found the water still too high for me to descend safely to the
sand; the tide had apparently gone out and was coming in again. I did
not much like the idea of descending again to the foot of the cliff if
it could be avoided, because there was no telling whether I could safely
proceed farther to the north; nor was I yet ready to go back home, for I
intended, if possible, to make the complete circuit of the island.

Therefore I turned my attention to that portion of the cliff that rose
above my ledge. After a careful scrutiny I concluded it would be
possible to reach the top by climbing a tree that grew close to the
rock. A narrow ledge could be reached from the upper limbs, and it led
along the face of the rocks for a few steps to a sort of crack or chasm
up which one might easily clamber to the top. I climbed down to the
beach as soon as the water was low enough, and filled my bottle anew at
the spring, Duke howling and barking all the time, as though in great
distress at being deserted. I returned to the ledge, fastened the end of
the lasso around the dog, and climbed up the tree with my lance,
haversack, and water bottle. With some difficulty I reached the chasm
safely, and proceeded to haul up the dog. From there the climbing was
not difficult to the top.

Here was a considerable forest, similar to the growth on the central
mountainous plateau of the island where I went for pitch. Indeed, as
well as I could then see, and as afterward I found to be the case, this
line of cliffs was connected with the central plateau by a ridge running
east and west. There was a valley between the cliffs and the plateau,
divided into two parts by this transverse ridge. The travelling through
the woods on the cliff was not difficult, as there was very little
undergrowth.

I made a discovery in this wood of several lofty trees which bore nuts
of the triangular variety known as Brazil nuts. They grow enclosed in a
hard outer casing like a small cannon-ball. One of these fell as I
passed beneath the tree. If it had struck Duke or me there is no
estimating the hurt that would have been occasioned. It fell fairly on a
projecting root, and burst open, scattering the loose nuts about. I
gathered a haversack full and filled my shirt and pockets, casting
uneasy glances the while up into the trees in fear of a possible
bombardment from above; nor did we linger long under those dangerous
limbs.

Pushing along, as near the edge of the cliffs as possible, we came, near
the middle of the island, north and south, to a well beaten path leading
down toward the sea through a break in the cliffs. Duke immediately
bounded down this path, and I followed him anxiously; for it did not
look as though made by pigs, but rather as if trodden by human feet. The
narrow gorge speedily widened out into a little bowl-shaped valley, open
to the sea on one side, and on three sides walled in by the cliffs,
which were hung with luxuriant vegetation,--a most lovely spot. A gently
sloping sward extended nearly to the pebbly beach, and a little stream
of clear water, which came frothing in haste down the glen, paused in a
quiet sweep and curve through the meadow, the long grass bending over
its narrow course, and dipping into the limpid surface, till finally it
flowed down over a bed of bright-colored pebbles to the little bay in
front. Here and there a wide-spreading tree cast a broad, purple shadow,
and many flowers sent forth fragrance to the pure, warm air. It was
truly a sylvan paradise.

What specially interested me, however, was the white gleam of canvas
shining through the foliage. A tent was pitched near the stream. I
called out to announce my presence, but nobody appeared, and going up to
the structure, I found it vacant and deserted. The tent was made of a
huge mainsail, stretched over a pole and secured to the ground by pegs.
It evidently had been long deserted, perhaps a month; the rains had
washed the ashes of a fire nearly all away. In the trunk of an adjacent
tree stuck an axe, buried to the helve as though by a powerful hand. The
metal was all covered with red rust, and so firmly imbedded in the gash
that I could not release it until I had pounded it out with a stone. A
further search disclosed a dish broken in half, a rusty case-knife, a
hand-saw, an iron kettle, a frying-pan, which lay in the tent, and
fragments of old newspapers and letters strewed about. In one corner
were two blankets rolled loosely together and somewhat mildewed. I
hauled these blankets and also an old topsail out of the tent, and
spread them in the sun to dry.

Then I wandered about seeking some clew as to who had been here and how
long since; but conjecture was idle. At the mouth of the creek there was
a tree with the marks on it of a mooring line; and the trace of the line
was still faintly visible on the earthy bank. The most probable
supposition was that a party of pig-hunters had landed here, and for
some reason had been suddenly called away. That they had left hurriedly
was evident both from the standing tent and its contents, and also from
the fact that a garden had been planted, which was now grown up to rank
luxuriance. In this garden was a great quantity of yams and sweet
potatoes, most of them just in a condition to be gathered; also peas and
beans quite dry and ripe, and some Indian corn, the last still green. A
rusty shovel and hoe were lying there just as they had been left. I made
no scruple to help myself to what I wanted of this abundant harvest that
chance had placed in my hand. It was not long before I had a fire built
and the kettle on, and some of the yams and sweet potatoes boiling.
These vegetables eaten hot, with salt and bacon, were to my unaccustomed
palate more delicious than I can describe. Duke also ate of them
ravenously.

About two o’clock in the afternoon, after packing up the new-found
property in the tent as securely as I could, I hurried away to the north
along the cliffs, anxious to reach home in order to get my boat and
return for these treasures; for treasures indeed would this abundant
supply of food as well as the other things be to me. About a quarter of
a mile north of this little haven, which I named “Farm Haven,” the
cliffs ran back from the sea, leaving a broad, smooth beach which gave
an excellent road quite to the northern extremity of the island,
excepting at one place where I was obliged to wade waist deep across the
mouth of a deep indenting cove. At the northern end were isolated rocks,
one of which rose boldly up to a height of fifty or sixty feet and was
surrounded by the water even at low tide. After clambering over the
rocks for an eighth of a mile I struck again the smooth, incurving beach
that margined the eastern shore, and before dark reached home.

Everything about the house was just as I had left it, and the boat was
gently heaving to the modified swell that penetrated in gentle
undulations to its safe harbor in the creek. I sat long that evening
enjoying the cool air, and speculating on the events of my journey. I
had not found Duke’s master, but could account at least in some measure
for his presence on the island; for he had been undoubtedly forgotten in
the hurried departure of the party whose camp I had just visited.

CHAPTER VII.

THE WATER-GLASS.

The morning broke fair with a gentle breeze from the west, which would
enable me to make the run easily in a couple of hours. I put on board
two light poles which might, if necessary, serve for oars, and rigged a
couple of loops on the washboard at each side, through which to thrust
them when they were to be used. After taking on board a supply of water,
and food enough for several days in case I should chance to be blown out
to sea, and not forgetting my lasso and burning-glass, I called Duke on
board, hoisted the sail, and cast off. Out through the creek mouth, over
the bar, and through its breakers slid the little craft, and as soon as
we were fairly outside I bore up and ran straight for the north cape,
with a fair beam wind. The fresh morning air, the dew still wet on the
boat, the sun scarce a span above the sea, the cool, blue water sliding
by, the breaking of the surf as it ran angling along the strand, all
acted like a cordial to my spirits. Duke sat up in the bottom of the
boat eyeing the whole proceeding with a critical air, hardly willing to
yield an entirely unqualified approval, and yet not ready to advance any
positive objection. I fairly burst into a laugh at his quizzical
expression. He sprang up wagging his tail and came to me and laid his
head on my knee, as much as to say, “It is all right, I see.”

Before reaching the cape I eased off a little with the intention of
running approximately over the region where the sunken galleon was
supposed to lie. The spot, according to the admiral’s account, was about
a mile east of north from the rocky point, and I wanted to sound as far
out in this direction as my forty-foot line would allow, if, as I hoped,
there should chance to be any shallow that would allow me to reach
bottom at all near the shore. The yellowish color of the water off the
cape gave token of an extensive shoal in this direction, as did also the
peculiar action of the swell, which seemed half inclined to break as it
passed. With a stone tied to the line, I sounded as soon as I passed the
cape, and found at two hundred yards from shore not over twenty feet of
water. This depth increased very gradually until the full length of the
line, forty feet or thereabouts, ran out at a distance of an eighth of a
mile from the shore, showing that there was a long shoal or submerged
spit extending out from the north end of the island.

As soon as I left the immediate vicinity of the shore, where the
breakers stirred up the bottom, the water became beautifully clear and
transparent, so that at my last sounding I saw, or fancied I saw, the
gleam of the bright sand shining up from below. I now lowered the sail
to test if there was any current running, but beyond a slight movement,
I could detect nothing. I was now far enough from the cape so that I
could take a slant to the southwest and easily clear the rocks. So I
hauled up the sail and brought her head around. Soon we were spinning
along the western shore, and in an hour were off the “Farm Haven,”
toward which I turned, and running into the mouth of the little stream
moored the boat safely and landed.

There was a busy day before me, and I lost no time in beginning work.
First of all, I threw the ballast overboard to make room for a cargo of
yams and potatoes. I next wove out of willow branches a rough basket,
or rather a sort of shallow tray, to carry them to the boat. I dug and
loaded fully five bushels of fine, clean sweet potatoes and a number of
large yams, and the supply remaining in the ground would have filled my
boat a half-dozen times. I next turned my attention to the dry peas and
beans, and gathered about a bushel of each, besides a number of great
scarlet pepper-pods. Then I took down the tent and put it aboard, as
well as the axe, the shovel, the hoe, and the sail and blankets. I
boiled a lot of yams for dinner, and this being over at about three in
the afternoon, I called Duke and went up the gully path to the top and
looked about a little to see what prospect there might be for a path
over the island to the other side. In a straight east and west line the
distance could not be over three and a half to four miles.

There was a ridge running back from the cliff to the central plateau,
which I thought might afford an easy path, and I knew that once on this
central plateau I could descend to the stream and so reach home. Having
seen this much I returned to the boat, and casting off poled out as far
as possible to get an offing. By short tacks I managed finally to get
far enough to venture on my northern slant. But the sun was almost down
when I rounded the north cape and started down the other shore.

Just as I came opposite the mouth of the creek, the wind died away, and
I hastened to get out my rude poles and row into the harbor. This was a
terrible task, and if the wind had not gone down I much doubt whether I
could have done it at all until the tide turned. But at last we made the
creek and moored the boat safely with its precious cargo. I was too
tired that night to do more than unload the tools, blankets, canvas,
and cooking utensils, leaving the vegetables on board till morning. That
night being oppressively warm, I swung my hammock under the open
work-shed, and lulled by the music of the breakers, slept soundly until
broad day.

The first work on hand was the care of my cargo of potatoes. These with
the beans and peas I carried up to the dark, dry store-room. Some of the
potatoes I buried in the dry sand, to test its preservative properties.
As a future provision I turned up with the spade a little patch of soil
near the creek and planted half a dozen hills of yams and potatoes in a
favorable spot, and a row of the beans and peas, guarding the latter
from the birds with a layer of brush. This occupied the greater part of
the day.

In the afternoon I drew a wire nail out of the chest, with which to make
a fish-hook. The back of the axe formed a good anvil, and the shank of
the hoe, the wooden handle being removed, did fairly well for a hammer.
With these tools I fashioned the red-hot nail into hook form, using for
tongs a pair of clam shells. I drew the point out sharp, bent the hook,
and cut a barb over the edge of the axe. The head of the nail was left
intact to secure the line. As this was my first effort at blacksmithing
the hook was not perhaps as elegant as it might have been, but it looked
as though it might work satisfactorily. For a line, I unlaid and
retwisted some pieces of hempen rope that had formed reef points on the
sail of the tent, and coated them well with candle-berry wax. I made a
wooden float for a bob and fitted a stone for a sinker, so that by
bed-time, my fishing-tackle was finished, together with a good hundred
feet of stout line.

That night a rain set in, and it continued steadily for three days
without ceasing, varying only between a violent downpour and a fine,
driving mist from the northeast. I could not work out of doors in such
weather; so, gathering a great quantity of cocoanut husks, I busied
myself hour after hour spinning cöir. I wanted to make a good, strong,
sounding-line at least a hundred fathoms long, and a line of equal
length by which to anchor a buoy as a guide in the submarine search
operations. Thus the time was by no means lost, though the confinement
was exceedingly irksome. Duke made an occasional dash out into the wet,
and once returned carrying in his mouth an armadillo rolled up tight in
a ball, which afforded us a variation in diet.

But the sky finally cleared and I hastened out to try my fishing-tackle.
Anchoring the boat just beyond the breakers at the mouth of the creek, I
baited my hook with a shell-fish and cast it over, letting the line run
slowly out as the hook sank toward the bottom, and then hauling it up
and repeating the operation. Presently I got a tremendous bite, and drew
in a fish that weighed about fifteen pounds. It was a red snapper, and
proved most excellent eating. This was fishing enough for once, and I
pulled to shore and set about cooking part of my prize. Soon the air was
redolent with the odor of fried fish, and both Duke and I regaled
ourselves with fish and potatoes, washing them down with pure, sweet
water cool from the porous water-jar.

I now set about the construction of an apparatus by the aid of which I
hoped to be able to make a reconnaissance of the bottom of the shallow
sea, where the sunken galleon was supposed to lie. I went out with my
axe to the upland and cut down a fine cedar tree. This I split until I
procured four rough but slight slabs, an inch thick and about a foot in
width, sawing them to a length of about three feet. I pinned these
securely together in the form of a rectangular tube a foot in diameter
and three feet long, and in one end of the tube fitted a tight cedar
bottom. In this bottom I cut an aperture just large enough to receive
one of my glass photograph plates, five inches by seven, and after
cleaning off the sensitive gelatine coating securely fitted it in place
like a window. With melted pitch I payed freely all the joints and
seams, so that the structure was perfectly water-tight, and then
blackened the wood on the inside with a mixture of pulverized charcoal
and hot wax, so that it would reflect no light.

Before this was finished the rains set in again and continued for a
whole week. I concluded that the annual rainy season must now be at
hand. For though the sky would occasionally clear for a day or part of a
day, the showers were so frequent that the house grew damp and
unwholesome, and I was obliged to air it every day with a rousing fire
in the fireplace, the heat of which drove me to seek shelter under the
work-shed. The weather was so uncertain that I did not dare to venture
out in the boat further than a few hundred feet, and then with a line
fast to the shore; this I occasionally did for the purpose of fishing,
and always with good luck, catching the red snappers, rock cod, and
various other varieties, all of which found their way to the larder.

It was on one of these occasions that I tried my new-made contrivance,
the water-glass. When the closed end of this was submerged over the side
of the boat, by looking in at the open upper end I could plainly see the
bottom and the fish swimming about my hook. Of course I was very anxious
to try the apparatus in deeper water to ascertain how far the vision
could penetrate. But the weather would not render it possible without
too great risk. The value of such a device would depend entirely upon
the clearness and depth of the water. I knew from written accounts that
the sponge fishers use a similar contrivance,--frequently a wooden
bucket with a pane of glass in the bottom, which they call a “sponge
glass,” and with which they search for sponges and conch shells in the
Bermudas, employing it with perfect success, in clear water, even at a
considerable depth. The sponge glass enables the operator to overcome
the surface agitation and reflection of the water, just as a thin
transparent sheet of ice sometimes renders the bottom of a deep pond
visible to a skater.

One morning, when there was an almost perfect calm, I noticed on the
surface of the sea a long streak extending from a point about half a
mile from shore away toward the eastern horizon until it was lost in the
distance. This appearance was so curious and inexplicable that after
gazing at it for a while, both from the beach and from the top of a
palm, I finally rowed the boat out to it, and found that it was muddy
water, with leaves, grass, and vegetation floating in it, and a great
number of cocoanuts bobbing about among the other fragments and
detritus. It looked precisely as though the contents of some slack water
lagoon connecting with the sea had been suddenly swept out by a freshet
or some extraordinary current. Among the floating matter were
innumerable sea beans, as they are called,--a sort of nut or seed that
is sometimes used as an ornament for watch chains,--also little scarlet,
egg-shaped seeds, like those that are picked up in such quantities on
the Florida beaches. But there was no sea-weed with the other detritus.
This mass of matter slowly travelled along the surface and by the next
day was out of sight. I suppose to a more skilled observer the
phenomenon might have proven a valuable aid in determining the set of
the currents, or other natural facts worthy of note.

While out on this excursion I several times tried the water-glass, but
found the sea so charged with matter and so cloudy and milky that I
could see but indistinctly and to no great depth. This, however, did not
discourage me, as I knew the water was likely to change in this respect
from week to week.

There came upon the island at this time great numbers of pelicans. They
would light on the beach in large flocks, and sit there for hours,
apparently resting from a long flight; then all together, as by a
concerted signal, they would rise and in an irregular body wing their
way to the south. Duke took great delight in hunting these birds, and
would watch by the hour for their arrival. As soon as a flock appeared
in the northern sky he would prick up his ears, all attention, and wait
until, circling about, they alighted. Then he would begin a deliberate
attempt to stalk them, creeping along, belly to the ground, until nearly
up to them, then making a bold rush, but always without success, the
birds on such occasions merely rising and circling to another
resting-place. He would come in after this sport wet with the rain and
panting with exertion, and appeared to look with reproach at my lack of
interest in the game, as though he would say, “Where is your gun, you
idle fellow?” But I had no use for pelicans. Indeed, I still had too
vivid a remembrance of the peculiar flavor of gull meat to hanker after
fish-eating birds of any sort, as food. The white crane, or heron, and
the beautiful pink and white ibis also made their appearance
occasionally in flocks; but they were so shy and difficult to approach
that I could never get within a hundred yards of them.

Penetrating one morning, in spite of the drizzling rain, to a part of
the forest just under the rocky plateau, I came upon some trees about
thirty or forty feet in height having flowers variegated with purple,
yellow, green, and red, and bearing at the same time fruit in the form
of great gourds. This I found was what is known as the calabash tree
(_Crescentia cujete_). I collected a number, of different sizes, and
carried them home through the rain. The hard, wood-like shells could
readily be cut with the knife and saw, yet they were strong and tough.
With this raw material, already partially shaped to hand, I set about
making various kinds of vessels,--domestic and culinary utensils, a
water-bottle to carry on my tramps and excursions, etc. With four great
gourds lashed together I constructed a buoy for subsequent use in my
marine explorations, and with a number of small ones I made a
life-preserver as a part of my boat equipment. It was a great comfort to
have a dish to eat from once more. Indeed, I had often regretted that I
did not bring with me the two halves of the broken dish which I had seen
at the “Farm Haven.” My two developing-trays with their deep sides had
proved but inconvenient substitutes; besides, they were generally kept
for other uses. Taken altogether there was no single vegetable product
of the island that contributed more to my comfort than the calabash
tree.

As I now had plenty of canvas I concluded to rig my boat anew and change
it from the awkward latteen rig to that of a sloop with mainsail and
jib. The want of a needle and thread to sew the sails was a great
drawback, but I made shift to use an awl made out of a leg of a compass
belonging to my drawing instruments, and for thread a slender cord made
of cöir. I rigged the jib with a traverse so that it needed no special
attention except to be hauled aft when I went about, and the mainsail
with a gaff and throat halliards, that it might be lowered by the run
upon emergency; I also provided both jib and mainsail with three rows
of reef points, that I might show little or much canvas, as the slate of
the wind should require. With axe and saw and knife I fashioned a good
pair of cedar oars, light and strong, and fitted thole-pins in the
gunwales to receive them; I put a pair of thole-pins in the stern for
sculling, and had a spare oar for use in case of breakage.

The weather continued stormy, with rain nearly every day, and frequently
for several days together without cessation. I passed most of the time
under the boat-shed, and generally slept there at night, as the climate
was very mild and warm notwithstanding the rains. Moreover, I had now
two blankets to sleep in at night, and lay quite warm and comfortable in
my hammock. The house I used as a kitchen, dining-room, store-room, and
library. It was quite impossible to read elsewhere at night, for the
candle could not be kept alight in the open-sided shed. I read all the
books through deliberately, including the German Word-book. I would lie
in my swinging hammock by the hour during the day-time and read even the
Dispensatory faithfully through while the rain pattered on the roof,
with an occasional “swish, swish,” as the eddying wind drove it with
greater or less violence against the house. That I should find the dry
details of a Dispensatory sufficiently interesting to make the
continuous reading of them even endurable expresses well the desperate
dulness of my lonesome surroundings. Duke slept much, and I envied him
his capacity for slumber. He would lie in a dry spot and snooze for
fifteen minutes at a time, get up and gape and stretch, then lie down
and shiver and drop to sleep with one eye open, and so alternating pass
the day. Sometimes I would practice on him with German words from the
Word-book, which he understood, so far as I could see, quite as well as
English. At any rate, when I spoke he wagged his tail, and thus
demonstrated that he was a good fellow and not disposed in any degree to
criticise or find fault with the personal peculiarities or the language
of a friend.

At last one clear, bright morning, when the birds were noisily rejoicing
and the butterflies were out in their gala dresses, I undertook an
expedition by land to the “Farm Haven.” The creek was swollen deep with
the rains, so that I could not conveniently travel up the bed. Therefore
I made my way north along the beach for a mile, and struck west through
the jungle at the most open place I saw. By an occasional use of the axe
I forced a path through to the rocks, which happened here to be low, and
speedily gained the central plateau. At the point where I mounted the
rocks I found great quantities of ripe whortleberries growing on low
bushes, and of large size and exquisite flavor. I ate my fill of these
and pressed on along the plateau looking for the connecting ridge. The
walking was not bad on this upland, as there was no tangled mass of
undergrowth, and the trees grew well apart. The ridge was not difficult
to find and proved easily passable, so that I made shift to reach the
cliffs long before noon.

Being near them I went to the Brazil-nut trees and gathered a peck or
more of the nuts, filling my haversack quite full as well as my pockets.
Duke here chased a little animal which I fancied must be what is called
an agouti; but as he did not catch him I could not know positively.
However, this persistent hunter soon after managed to tree an animal
which I had no difficulty in recognizing as the familiar raccoon. I had
no idea until I saw this specimen that this plantigrade was to be found
in the Caribbean islands. There was, however, no mistaking the identity
of the species. It was undoubtedly a genuine “coon.” The silver-tipped
fur, the pointed snout, the barred tail all spoke in favor of a true
descent and a perfect relationship with the animal which I had so often
hunted on moonlight nights in the woods at home. It was an undoubted
“case of coon.” When I found him he was in a slender sapling, with Duke
barking below. I laid the axe to the trunk and speedily felled it to the
ground. Duke seized his victim before he could recover, and shook him as
a terrier would a rat. Running to his assistance I speedily put an end
to the combat with my knife, and bagged the game. Here was material for
a feast, for I well knew by experience that roast coon is a morsel fit
for an epicure.

Farm Haven looked beautifully fresh from the rains. I found the garden
still more choked with weeds, and the potatoes mostly gone to seed. I
gathered a few to roast in the embers for my dinner, but most of them
had begun to decay. The Indian corn was ripe, and I took this occasion
to gather it all, a good heap of perhaps ten bushels, which I carried
little by little to a sheltered nook under the rocks and piled up
without removing the husks. I started a good fire to roast some corn and
potatoes. After dressing the coon I swung it by a cord in front of the
fire where it was slowly turned by the twist of the cord first in one
direction and then in the other, requiring only an occasional twirl to
keep it going.

While the dinner was cooking, Duke and I looked about the valley to see
what could be found. We went over to the north of the mouth of the
rivulet among some willows, to gather a few wands for basket-making. As
soon as we reached the other side of the stream I noticed a strong
stench as of decayed animal matter. The source of this smell was soon
disclosed in a great heap of oysters. Great bivalves, some of them eight
or more inches across, lay rotting in a pile on the pebbly shore. All
about were heaps of open shells and decayed shell-fish. It occurred to
me at once that I had chanced upon the headquarters of a pearl fishery;
and this accounted most satisfactorily for the encampment, but not for
the hurried departure of the campers. There was at least a ton of
unopened oysters lying in the rotting drying-heap, and I determined to
examine them as soon as we had finished dinner.

CHAPTER VIII.

BREAD-MAKING.

There was a wooden tub lying near the oyster heap, which I conjectured
was for holding water in which to open and separate the oysters in the
examination for pearls. I filled this tub at the stream and set it in
the shade of the willows. Then, with bared arms, and nostrils plugged
with leaves, I began the disgusting task of examining the oysters
carefully one by one. The second oyster I opened contained fifteen
little seed pearls not much larger than a grain of mustard seed. Then I
drew blank after blank in the lottery, until I had opened perhaps fifty
shells. Then a great prize came out in the shape of a beautiful
pear-shaped pearl of the size of a small hazel-nut, rainbow tinted and
lustrous as a moon-lit cloud. Thus it went with varying fortune all the
afternoon, until the heap was exhausted and I had collected two hundred
and fifty seed pearls, ninety-seven small pearls, and a hundred and
sixteen larger ones, some of them of great lustre and beauty. What the
value of these pearls would prove to be I had no means of estimating,
but it doubtless would be considerable. I tied them carefully in my
handkerchief and put them in my pocket. The smell of the decayed
shell-fish is something frightful to remember, and after I had finished
and washed myself thoroughly in the stream it still seemed to cling to
me and to permeate everything in the neighborhood. Why I had not noticed
this awful stench on my first visit was strange to me, and must have
been due to the course of the wind at that time.

When I had finished this loathsome task it was so late that I concluded
to stay all night at the cove instead of trying to go home. If the
weather kept clear there would be no great hardship in sleeping on the
grass for one night. The sun set, however, with an angry red glow amid a
mass of heavy clouds portending foul weather. Moreover, as the night
fell there was an oppressive calm, and the heat was intense. So
threatening was the aspect of the weather that had I been at all sure of
being able to find my way in the darkness, I should have certainly
attempted to get home even after the sun had set. There was no shelter
if it should rain, and I was at my wits’ end how to contrive a place to
pass the night. What a fool I had been not to notice the approaching
storm in time to get to my comfortable house. The best provision I was
able to make was to gather some grass and willow-boughs and take them
under an overhanging rock, where I cut with the axe in the dark some
limbs and boughs and made a sort of lean-to. This I supplemented with
the tub turned up toward the quarter whence the rain would most probably
come, and Duke and I crept into this sorry nest to await events.

One event came without waiting, and that was a powerful stench from the
unlucky tub. But as I had endured this already for nearly half a day, I
concluded it would, by familiarity, become less and less offensive. I
could not go to sleep, but lay there turning and tossing on my
uncomfortable couch and watching the weather.

The calm continued until near midnight, when a cool breeze sprang up and
swept down the gorge and out to sea. I thought this indicated that the
storm was about to pass around and away; but the heavy rumble of
thunder out at sea, growing louder and sharper, and becoming almost
continuous, and the constant play of lightning, quickly dissipated this
notion. I looked out with awe at this tremendous electric display.

The breeze fell presently, and I looked out and saw coming in from the
sea a coppery red mass of cloud glowing as though it contained a
furnace. Instinctively I crouched down behind the rock beside the dog,
who was shivering with fear, and grasped the corners of a huge fallen
fragment. With a dreadful, screeching roar, mingled with a din of
thunder such as I am utterly unable to describe, and can liken to
nothing I ever heard before or since, the hurricane burst upon the
island. There was no rain, but at first I thought there was, for the
spray from the ocean beat in my face and drenched me to the skin. It was
not rain, for it was salt to the taste. My shelter of boughs, and also
the high-smelling tub were blown away instantly, and with the dog under
me I fairly had all I could do to hold on. Above the roar of the wind,
the rattling of stones, and the din of the thunder, I could hear the
crash of falling trees and breaking boughs. Nor did the awful wind let
up for nearly half an hour, and I was quite worn out with the
apprehension and the struggle. If I lifted my face for an instant the
spray and sand and pebbles whipped with such violence against it that I
was glad to bury it close to the ground. Such awful storms I had heard
of, and even been witness to their effects after the event; but never
could I have had an adequate idea of the terrible reality without this
experience.

During the entire passage of the hurricane not a drop of rain fell, so
far as I could judge, though, as before stated, I was drenched with
spray. Gradually, with an occasional renewal of the blast, the wind went
down, and in an hour the stars were shining pure and serene in the dark
vault above.

The temperature had now fallen many degrees, and there was a cool,
steady wind from the north that chilled me through to the bone. Of
course I had no fire, and no means of procuring one, and the only relief
obtainable was such exercise as I could get by stamping about and
thrashing my arms until the blood was in rapid circulation. Sitting back
against the rock I dozed a little now and then, and waited impatiently
for the break of day, which seemed as though it never would come.

As soon as it was fairly light we started for home. The effects of the
hurricane were visible on every hand. Trees broken off, blown over, and
uprooted, green branches scattered here and there, the silvery under
sides of the leaves showing, and giving an air of disorder and
destruction by their unaccustomed appearance and tint, all marked the
hand of the destroyer. The central plateau seemed to have suffered most.
Here several great trees had been twisted until the trunks were a mass
of splinters, indicating that they had successively occupied the very
eye and centre of the rotary wind. Hurrying along rapidly we came down
to the lower land, and I was glad to observe much fewer signs of
destruction here. We came upon a dead pig, killed by a huge fallen limb,
and I pulled him out, as we were now nearly home, and dragged him along
with me for food.

When we reached the open beach I found plenty of evidence of the mighty
wind in the scattered palm leaves, boughs, and branches strewn along the
strand. In the distance I could see the ruins of my work-shed. The roof
was off, and lying down the beach a hundred yards or more in a heap at
the water’s edge. The boat, for which I felt specially anxious, was
hidden from view by a clump of water bushes that grew on the hither
bank of the creek. The mast I could see, and noted that an unnatural
tilt had been given to it. Dragging the dead pig I slowly made my way
along the sand. The house stood intact, my hammock still swung to the
frame-work of the shed. The top of a cocoanut palm, twisted off by the
wind and carried through the air, had brought up against the frame of
the shed and lodged there, while the nuts growing on it were scattered
about the ground, some of them as far as the water’s edge.

I went immediately to the boat and found it careened and sunk in the
shallow water of the creek, the upper gunwale just above the surface. At
the house the only damage done was a hole in the northeast corner of the
wall, caused by the end of a bough which had been driven through it and
was still sticking in the gap. The first thing I did was to build a
rousing fire in the chimney; then hanging my damp clothing up in front
of it to dry I went down for a bath in the creek, and to examine more
minutely the boat. When she was righted up and baled out with a gourd I
found she had suffered no injury whatever, being as tight as a bottle.
Nor would she have sunk except for an extra amount of ballast that
happened to be on board, as the air-tight compartments held perfectly.
But the sinking was doubtless the best thing that could have happened.

As soon as I could dress and get something for breakfast, I cut up the
pig and put part of it in salt, and then turned to with a will upon the
work of repairing the shed. The larger part of the material of the roof
was uninjured, and as the weather fortunately remained clear, by the
following night I had the roof on again in good shape and much stronger
than before, as with the aid of the axe I was able to cut a great
number of stout poles to add to the structure. When I had patched up the
hole in the wall of my house and cleared away the litter, most of the
signs of the hurricane had disappeared from my neighborhood.

The dampness of my house in wet weather, which was due to the walls
getting wet and soaking through with the driving rain, led me now to
undertake a new task. The clay used in the building of the boat would, I
thought, be sufficient in quantity to give the floor and the walls
inside and out a good coat, and this when once dry would make the
structure like an adobe building. I intended, moreover, to add an extra
thickness of thatch, put in a row of glass photograph plates toward the
sea for windows, make a good cedar door, to be hung on wooden hinges,
and add a wide veranda to the front, under which I might sit in the
evening.

The rain still came every day or two now, though evidently the dry
season was fast approaching. The weather was too uncertain to venture
out any distance in the boat, and I therefore had plenty of time on my
hands to attend to my building and other schemes for domestic comfort.
As planned, I daubed the whole house, inside and outside, with a good
thick coat of the clay smoothed with the back of the shovel. On the
outside, to give a workmanlike finish, I lined the soft clay into blocks
and pointed the joints neatly. Then, with dry, pulverized clay and sand,
which I sprinkled with water, trampled with the feet and smoothed by
beating with the shovel, I produced a hard, smooth floor like that under
the shed. All around the edge of this floor I fitted a single row of
clam shells, and inside of this a second row of pink-mouthed tiger
shells, which formed a handsome border. I put in a narrow horizontal
window, of six panes side by side, at each side of the doorway, and
constructed a good door of split cedar, pinned together and hung on
wooden hinges to swing outward, and provided it with a latch. I then
doubled the thatch all over the house and put up a light porch in front
thatched with palm leaves, and built a floor for it the same as in the
house. At one end of this porch I constructed a little low shed with
walls and roof for the dog.

As there was still a great quantity of clay left I built an oven near
the house, as follows: upon a raised platform of poles erected about
three feet above the ground, and about three by four feet in extent, I
put a layer of sand and clay about four inches thick. This was the floor
of the oven. All around this floor I laid a wall of adobe bricks, made
of sand and clay partly dried. I then filled the interior with sand
heaped up in the form of an arch, and laid the adobe bricks over it,
daubing and plastering all the cracks. At the rear was a small clay
chimney, and at the front an opening for a doorway. When the clay had
well set and partly hardened, I raked out the sand through the doorway
and left the hollow clay structure standing. I then constructed an adobe
slab with which to close the doorway. In this oven I built a hot fire of
dry wood and kept it going all day, by which means the clay was partly
burned and the construction made entirely proof against the
wet,--though, for that matter, the adobe would have stood without such
treatment.

To utilize the heat left in the walls from the burning I had put a pot
full of beans on to boil, with a good chunk of salt pork. At night I put
the beans and pork in an earthen dish and set them in the oven, which
was still hot, and closed it up tight, covering the chimney and luting
the door slab with wet clay. In the morning, when I opened it, there
gushed out a delicious vapor, and the dish of beans and pork, brown and
crisp came forth hot and fit for a king.

One article I needed very badly was soap. I had tried to wash my
clothing several times, but it was quite filthy notwithstanding these
attempts. My entire wardrobe consisted of a heavy woollen shirt, a pair
of tough moleskin pantaloons, a home-made hat, and a stout pair of
shoes. Socks I had none, as the single pair I brought on shore were
entirely worn out. Latterly I had made a practice of going barefoot,
except on extended excursions through the jungle and over the rocks.
With plenty of wood ashes and pig fat at hand why should I not make
soap? I rigged up a leaching apparatus thus: in the bottom of a huge
gourd I pierced several holes, and laid over them a layer of grass so
that the ashes would not stop them up; then I filled the gourd with
alternate layers of grass and ashes to the top, and poured in fresh
water as long as it would absorb any. In a little while the lye began to
drip out of the holes into a vessel placed beneath to receive it. By
changing and renewing the ashes several times I finally collected a
kettle full of the lye. This I placed over the fire and boiled until it
had lost two thirds of its volume. Then I put into the boiling lye
strips and pieces of fat pork until it would dissolve no more, keeping
up the boiling slowly all the time. The result was a good article of
light colored soap of a jelly-like consistency. Its use both upon my
clothing and myself was a luxury indeed.

One day I burned some lime and mixed a whitewash, which with a
cocoa-husk swab I applied to the interior walls of the house, changing
them to a dazzling white and rendering the whole interior light and
cheerful; which was a great comfort on dark days when I was confined
there. Moreover, it gave the place an air of wholesomeness and neatness
that was very home-like. As a further improvement I made a bed of soil
at each end of the porch and transplanted some flowering vines and
creepers of several varieties; I also made a half-dozen hills in front
of the house, carrying and filling in these spots a quantity of rich
muck, and planted sweet potatoes that they might spread their vines over
the sand. The garden which I had made before the rains set in was now in
thriving condition, all the peas and beans being up and the potato-vines
in blossom.

My diet was now varied and healthful enough; but I lacked one article of
food that I longed for and felt the need of more and more every
day,--and that was bread, the staff of life. Parched-seed gruel was a
very poor substitute indeed, and at last I got so hungry for a taste of
bread that I determined to make some out of the Indian corn.

So one day I made a basket and started across the island to bring home a
supply of the corn. All the way over I kept a good lookout for a
suitable gritty stone, that could be used to grind the corn, and found
several that I thought might answer the purpose fairly well; but one
sample--being a slab of grit-stone having a rough, pocked surface with
small hard bits of chalcedony interspersed throughout--was so superior
in quality to all the rest that I concluded I could do no better if I
sought the island over. This slab, which was quite as much as I could
carry, I laid against a tree where I could easily find it, and went on
my way to “Farm Cove.” I had not been here since the great storm, and
was surprised to see how quickly and fully all traces of the hurricane
had disappeared. The corn was all right, the husks had fully dried, and
the heap lying on the rocks had not suffered from the rains. I filled my
basket,--a good bushel,--and immediately came home, returning forthwith
for the slab of grit-stone. Duke treed another raccoon, which we
captured by cutting down the tree, and then with our plunder and the
stone we managed to get home at nightfall.

The next day it began again to rain in intermittent showers; raining and
shining alternately, as in the April weather of northern latitudes.
After building a fire and heating up the oven and putting in the raccoon
to bake, with some yams for dinner, I went to work on my stone slab.
First I broke off a good piece the full width of the slab in length, and
about six inches in width to use as a grinder. With the back of the axe
I hammered and dressed this as smooth as I could. Then I went at the
slab itself, pounding it with the axe and breaking it at the edges until
it was formed into a reasonably smooth, rectangular shape two feet long
by one foot in width. I now sprinkled the face of the slab with wet sand
and water, and placing it in an inclined position, rubbed the grinder up
and down upon it, feeding on fresh sand and water from time to time, as
it lost its cutting properties.

This was slow, hard, tedious work, and the progress made was so gradual
that it called for all my will to keep at it. Perseverance, however,
will finally conquer most obstacles, and this was a mere question of
muscle and will-power struggling against a hard grit-stone. The stone
was fated finally to yield; but it took me two days of hard work to get
it into the right shape. All this for a piece of corn bread, and the
bread not yet forthcoming.

When finished the slab had a smooth, gritty surface slightly incurved
from end to end, and the grinder designed to lie across it had its
corners rounded smoothly off.

I set to work now to grind my corn as follows: The slab was propped up
at a slight angle on a piece of canvas; on this slab the corn, a handful
at a time, was sprinkled and then ground by rubbing the grinder up and
down over it. As it became pulverized the meal would gradually drift
down on to the canvas, the coarser particles rolling away to the edge of
the heap, only to be scraped up and ground over again. This was, as you
may imagine, tedious work. When I had accumulated about four quarts of
meal, I felt that I had enough of grinding for once.

Now commenced the first act of bread-making proper. In a gourd I mixed
about a pint of the meal with warm water and a little salt, and set it
in a warm place over night, that it might have a chance to ferment. This
was to be my yeast. In the morning the contents of the gourd were in a
state of incipient fermentation, and I went out and fired up the oven to
be ready for the grand final act. While the oven was heating I mixed up
the rest of the meal with salt and water, and added the fermented meal
to it, mixing the whole to a consistency such that it could readily be
stirred. This I set near the fire in an earthen pan, and watched it from
time to time. In about two hours it began to rise slightly, and the oven
being fully ready I clapped the pan in and closed it up to bake. In an
hour I opened the oven and took out a fragrant panful of nicely browned,
light, and crumbling corn bread, as a reward for all my labors. Perhaps
it was not so good as a skilled bread-maker might have produced, but it
was sweet and delightful to me, and well repaid all my trouble, and both
Duke and I rejoiced over it with our broiled bacon.

After this experiment bread-making was a regular thing. Sometimes I
simply stirred up the raw meal with a little salt and water and baked it
on the back of a shovel before the open fire,--hoe-cake fashion,--to be
eaten brown and hot; but I generally made raised bread by the process
which I have described, sometimes adding a modicum of pork fat for
shortening.

CHAPTER IX.

THE GALLEON FOUND.

The severe rains gradually ceased, until sunshine was the rule and rain
the exception. I did not expect a season of absolute dryness, for in
this locality rain prevails to some extent throughout the whole year, so
that the vegetation rarely suffers from drought.

One morning, the sky being clear and a gentle breeze blowing from the
southwest, Duke and I went aboard the boat,--which by the way, I had
named the “Mohawk”--and started for a trial of the water-glass. We were
soon on the ground, a mile to the north of the cape. Lowering the sails
I put the glass over the side, with very little hope of success as the
water seemed to have a cloudy appearance. It proved to be in such a
condition that I could not see the bottom at all. I then put up the sail
and ran in nearer the shore to where the depth was about thirty feet.
Here I could see the sand and rocks and shells on the bottom very
distinctly, and noted that there were streaks and veins of the murky
water running through the more transparent portion.

Finding that nothing could be done in the way of investigation until the
water became clearer, I stood out to the west until by a single tack I
could make Farm Cove, intending to bring back a cargo of corn and some
yams and potatoes. I found a few bushels of yams still in good
condition, and noted with pleasure that many of the potatoes left in the
ground had sprouted and the vines had already acquired quite a growth.
With spade and shovel I turned to heartily, and cleared away the
luxuriant growth of weeds which threatened to choke this volunteer crop.
Then I loaded in my corn and started back, reaching home in time for
supper.

The next two days I devoted to planting a patch of corn, hardly
expecting to remain long enough upon the island to enjoy it, but
thinking it wise to provide for an uncertain future. On the third day I
went out again to try the water-glass, but the water was still lacking
in transparency and there was nothing to do except to wait.

But while returning I thought of a thing that would be very useful to me
in future expeditions, and that was to set up on the northern cape
something which might serve as a guide to me in future operations. I had
no compass and was obliged to guess the direction blindly by the sun.
Now the Spanish admiral, when he reported that the galleon bore east of
north from the point of rocks, and about a mile therefrom, probably
spoke, as to direction at least, from actual observation of the compass,
as a sailor would; for nobody knows better than a sailor the
impossibility of guessing at direction without a guide. Indeed, the
sailor, when he comes on deck, turns instinctively to the compass to
orient himself and correct his sense of direction, because the course of
the vessel may have changed half a dozen times during a watch below,
without his knowledge. To one on board a vessel the parts fore and aft,
starboard and port, below and aloft, have a fixed relation to each
other, and one is apt to get a set impression as to direction from this
fixed relation of familiar objects. Thus I have heard of an old
sailing-master who was on board the same vessel for twenty years, and
who declared that, no matter where the ship might be or upon what
course, it always seemed to him that the head of his bunk lay to the
north; that when at sea the most distressing thing to him was that the
sun never rose in the same quarter two mornings in succession; and that
it never rose in the east except on Long Island, where he was born.

As to the accuracy of the estimated distance--one mile--that, to be
sure, was a much more uncertain quantity; though officers of war vessels
are, and were then, well trained to estimate distances on the water, as
otherwise they could not determine the range of their cannon and arms.
Altogether I had every reason to suppose, barring variations in the
compass and individual errors, that the location assigned was reasonably
accurate. At any rate I decided to start my investigation with the
assumption that the assigned location was accurate, and to work from the
designated point as a centre; it would then be easy, as I proceeded, to
allow for error in all directions without the chance of multiplying it
in any particular direction.

In my little box of drawing-tools was a small brass protractor--a
semi-circle divided into one hundred and eighty degrees, with
half-degree marks. This would be convenient in the work I was about to
do, though not absolutely necessary, as in its absence I could have
easily constructed one that would answer my purpose. The first thing to
do was to establish a true north and south line. That night the stars
shone brightly, and I easily found the pole star by the pointers in the
Great Bear, or “Dipper.” In the sand at the north cape I drove an
upright stake made of a stout cane. Then taking another straight piece I
placed it in a notch on top of the upright and sighted along its length
adjusting it until it pointed straight at the north star. To secure it
in this position I drove a short notched stake at the butt of the
inclined cane and tied the cane firmly to both. I was now sure that the
two uprights were in a true north and south direction from each other,
and the work for that night was finished, as the remainder could be
better done by daylight.

The next thing I wanted was a standard of measurement; unfortunately my
drawing instruments did not contain the usual ivory rule. But this did
not occasion me much uneasiness, as I hoped to be able to deduce the
standard inch by a comparison of my belongings. If I once got the true
inch it would be easy to get from that the foot, the yard, the rod, the
mile. I had my photograph plates as one guide; these I had every reason
to suppose were cut quite accurately to the dimensions of five inches by
seven. Then there was the brass protractor. It is true there were no
inches marked on this; but the workman who made it would naturally
follow some standard, and the chances were very great that the diameter
of this instrument would be found to be an exact multiple of the inch,
and as I conjectured, exactly four inches. To test this matter I laid
the protractor on the short side of one of the plates, and taking the
difference between the two found, as I had expected, that this
difference was one fifth of the width of the plate, and one seventh of
its length. This proved satisfactorily to my mind that the plate was
accurate in dimensions, that is to say, five by seven inches, and that
the difference between the length of the straight side of the protractor
and the width of the plate was the standard inch. From this
starting-point I constructed a foot measure, and cut me a light pole
exactly a rod in length.

Returning now to the cape where my north and south direction rod was
fixed, I proceeded to set a peg, which to avoid confusion we will
designate as A, in the sand in a prolongation of the line, and with the
protractor got the true east by north, marking this line by a second
peg. Then I turned about and marked a line which made an angle of one
hundred and twenty degrees with the east by north line, and which would
lead down the beach.

I now proceeded to plant in the sand three poles about fifteen feet in
height: one at the central point A, one in a prolongation of the east by
north line, which pole we will call B, and the third in a prolongation
of the angle line down the beach, which latter pole we will call C. The
next thing was the measurement of a base line from the pole A, through C
down the beach for a mile. This I did as accurately as I could with my
rod measure; but it was a sort of work highly conducive, as you may
imagine, to the backache, especially as I went over it three times to
eliminate as much error as possible, taking the average of the three
measurements. Nor was the third measurement completed much before it was
time to go home.

Only one thing now remained to be done, and this I did the next morning.
At the end of the mile line on the beach I erected a tall pole, which we
will call D, and from it as a centre laid off a line thirty degrees from
the base to intersect the east-by-north line or its prolongation, and
marked the direction by a second tall pole which we will call E. Now,
according to a simple problem in trigonometry, it will be seen that if I
should sail out in my boat east of north from the cape, guiding myself
by the two poles A and B, when I had brought the poles D and E into line
having A and B in line at the same time, I should be a mile away from A
in a true east-of-north direction.

Although I now went out every day to try the water, it did not grow
clear. Finding the guide-poles barely visible, especially the more
distant pair, I mounted a gourd on the top of each one, after which I
had no further difficulty in seeing them. As it was some little trouble
to take the bearings constantly, I rigged a buoy and anchored it at the
spot where theoretically the galleon lay. I found the water about sixty
feet deep; and the buoy--a large gourd attached to a line with a stone
for an anchor--floated easily on the swell, with eighty feet of line.
After this buoy was anchored I took down the guide-poles, marking their
places with pegs, in case I should require to use them again. This I did
out of a superabundance of caution, not that I believed any one else
than myself--had there been any one else--could have read the riddle
they told to me.

Every day for three weeks I went out to the shoal near the buoy and
examined the water. It was getting gradually clearer; but had it not
been for my recollection of the first visit made, before I had the
water-glass, and of the appearance of the water at that time, I should
have doubtless given up the attempt in despair. The remembrance,
however, of the clear water, and the gleam through it of yellow sand,
was not to be forgotten, and it kept up my hopes to the last.

The weather grew oppressively hot, and there came on one day a terrific
thunder-storm followed by a gale of wind from the northeast which lasted
two days and was followed in turn by fair weather, with a gentle
southwest wind. When I went out again I found the water quite clear. I
was very impatient to test the glass, so much so that I would not wait
to make any trials until I had reached the neighborhood of the buoy.
Here I lowered the sails and put the glass over.

I could see the bottom quite plainly. It was of clean sand and strewed
with shells. Here and there was a fragment of sea-weed, sponge, or other
ocean growth. A shoal of silver-sided mackerel dashed by, and numerous
strange fishes came into view. One sort there was with long streamers
extending from the tail, and a body banded with rainbow hues. I looked
long and intently at the strange panorama unfolded to my view, and found
when I raised my head that the boat had drifted half a mile to the
northeast of the buoy. Then I hoisted the sail and ratched back beyond
the buoy, and drifted again, with the glass over the side, watching the
bottom for signs of the galleon. This manoeuvre I repeated as long as
there was light enough to see. I found that I could not see the bottom
after four in the afternoon, nor before nine in the morning.

I spent three days at this work without any success, and then found that
I was going at times over ground that I had already searched, for I
began to identify objects as having been already seen. Especially did I
recognize a huge conch-shell with a clam-shell wedged in the mouth. It
was necessary therefore to devise some systematic method of search, or I
should simply be hunting over and over the same ground. So I adopted the
plan of gridironing, so to speak, a territory of a mile square, after
the following fashion: I made me an extra buoy and anchored it at an
arbitrary point about a half-mile south of the centre buoy. Taking this
as a starting-point I drifted a mile before the wind to the northeast;
then ratching back to the starting-point I lifted the buoy and carried
it a hundred feet to the northwest, and drifted again down another
parallel line, and so on.

The wind held steadily in the southwest, fortunately, day after day, and
after a week’s hard work I came nearly on a line with the central buoy;
but no signs of a wreck, or even a mound where one might be buried in
the sand. On the eighth day of this systematic search the weather seemed
about to change. A huge bank of clouds lay low in the southwest, and I
hardly knew whether to venture out or not. But as it would in all
probability take some hours for the storm to brew, I set forth and made
one drift with my usual success, then returned and started for the
second.

When I was about half-way down on the second drift I found the wreck.
There was no doubt about it. The hulk lay there very slightly buried in
the sand, a great, black mass careened a little to port, and the bows
somewhat higher than the stern. Strange to say, it was not further than
twenty rods from my central marking buoy, and about due north from it. I
immediately dropped overboard my reserve buoy, composed of four large
gourds attached to a strong line, and having a hundred-pound rock for an
anchor, and watched to see that the anchoring-stone dropped just beside
the hull.

At last I had found it! Here beneath me in sixty feet of water lay the
Spanish galleon, exactly where the admiral so long ago had reported her
to have sunk. His report being so far verified, it would also prove true
in respect to the treasure contained within her ancient ribs.

A darkening of the sea and sky warned me that there was no time to waste
in dreaming over my discovery. The storm which had been coming would now
soon be here. I therefore hoisted sail and turned my back on the
galleon. It was none too soon. Indeed, before I made the creek the wind
had risen to such a height that I had to lower the sails and double reef
them, and then went into the creek gunwale under, with the white spume
and froth flying clear over the boat. But a miss is as good as a mile.
I got safely in and cooked me a noble dinner of corn bread and baked
pork and beans in honor of the day’s glorious event.

Duke and I sat in the open porch that afternoon, sheltered from the wind
and rain, resting contentedly after the long strain of hard work which
had kept me on the keen jump every day from dawn until dark since the
search began. The wind blew strongly, with occasional gusts of driving
rain, and I feared the storm might shift my buoys, or tear them loose
and carry them away; but I could locate the central buoy again by the
sights already taken, if it should go, and from that the spot could
easily be found. But I hoped for better results, as the main buoy, which
marked the wreck, had plenty of line, and moreover, was strong and
buoyant. I wished this one might last, for with the anchor lying close
beside the sunken hull, it seemed to me a sort of claim stake. I
determined, as soon as the weather would permit, to rig a buoy which
would outride the storms, and anchor it securely over the wreck. As is
usual with the heavier winds and gales in this locality, the wind before
nightfall began to veer around to another quarter, getting before sunset
quite around into the north, and by nine o’clock settling down in the
northeast, exactly the opposite quarter from its starting-point, with
fine rain and mist.

Having located the galleon, I had now done all I had intended to do
before leaving the island, except to mark the location more securely, if
that proved necessary; and I was therefore impatient to get away in my
boat for Martinique or some other civilized port where I could get the
necessary assistance and diving-apparatus. Of course I must now wait for
settled weather and a favorable wind as I had once before had to do. But
this time I hoped most sincerely that I should not be kept waiting as
long as before, for with little to do the time would hang heavily on my
hands. The bare thought of getting back once more to civilization made
my heart beat faster, and stirred my very soul.

The northerly wind was chill, and the air so moist that I built a
cheerful fire in the chimney and drew my chair up in front of it, closed
the door, lighted a candle, and tried to read, Duke snoozing on the
floor at my feet in front of the hearth.

But although I sat thus until midnight, I could not read. I watched the
embers fall and die away hour after hour, thinking over the days spent
on the island, the trials and the labor, the mistakes and the successes,
and the strange outcome. That I should have actually found the galleon
seemed now upon cool reflection little less than a miracle. That some of
the hundreds of professional wreckers and divers who make a regular
business of seeking out such things on the faintest clues should not
have run across the Spanish admiral’s report and sought and found the
wreck and removed the treasure seemed a strange thing to me now. Why had
not the Spanish government done this long ago? Then the horrible idea
entered my mind that perhaps they had already done so. Or if not,
perhaps an expedition designed for that purpose might even now be on its
way, and might arrive when I had left the island. If so, they would
speedily pick up my buoy, and I should return to find the treasure gone.

All these and a thousand such distempered fancies tortured me into a
state bordering on frenzy. To have the treasure almost in sight and yet
to lose it would be too much for human nature to bear. I would remove my
buoy, erase every mark and take my chances of picking up the clue. But
after all, how foolish that would be. The treasure lies there safe, and
has lain there many, many years, and this frantic fear coming at so
late a day is the height of folly.

Then my mind would wander away to plans for conducting my negotiations:
how I should seek out a man whom I could trust, and how I should present
matters to secure his aid and co-operation. How should I get the money?
Ah, there were the pearls! I would sell them and possibly raise money
enough myself. But would I dare offer these pearls for sale? Would not
their possession excite the cupidity of others and cause them to follow
me back to the island and come upon me in the midst of the work of
securing the treasure?

And so my fancies came and went, until at last, overpowered by fatigue,
I fell fast asleep in my chair, and was wakened an hour or two before
break of day by Duke’s cold nose against my hand. Whereupon I sensibly
went to bed and to sleep.

CHAPTER X.

THE CASTAWAYS.

It was now the month of May and I had been about nine months a prisoner
on the island. If all went as well as I hoped, I might be at home before
the end of a year with money enough to redeem the dear old farm.

The morning was gray and gloomy, the wind still driving gusts of rain
from the northeast, and the breakers yellow with sand rolling in on the
beach, and dashing up fragments of weed and long streamers of bladder
plant. There was a strong salt smell in the nostrils that such weather
brings on the seashore; the gray, leaden clouds hung low and heavy over
a dark, indigo sea, whitened far and near with foaming crests, like
manes of racing steeds; the foliage gleamed silvery gray as the leaves
were swept by the wind; and the willows along the creek bent until they
dipped their slender branches in the stream. Occasionally a parrot or
other long-tailed bird could be seen tossed and buffeted in an attempt
to fly from one tree to another, frequently giving up the struggle and
fairly drifting away to be lost among the foliage.

Notwithstanding the wet, I went about getting stores into the boat and
preparing for the voyage. I filled half a dozen two-gallon gourds with
water, and stopped them with well waxed wooden plugs, stowing them
carefully in the bottom of the boat with due regard to her trim. Then I
put on board the remainder of the dried turtle-meat, and set a ham on
the fire to boil. I made two pans of bread, and put them, with pork,
beans, yams, and potatoes, in the oven to bake. This food would all keep
well. In addition I parched and ground up two or three quarts of seed
for cold gruel. Everything was stowed away, and the boat in readiness by
three o’clock in the afternoon.

There was but little sign of an abatement or change in the weather. I
felt curious to know if my buoy still held, and as there was yet time
before dark to go up to the north cape by way of the beach and return, I
called Duke and started along the strand. About half-way there we came
upon the carcass of a magnificent silver-sided tarpon,--a huge fish
somewhat like a sea-bass,--that would have weighed probably two hundred
pounds. It was dead when cast ashore, and so of course unfit for food. A
flock of gulls were quarrelling and fighting over it, and as we
approached they arose and filled the air in a great cloud. After we
passed by they circled around, wind-buffeted, and settled again on their
food, covering the beach, and hovering in a seething, hungry, struggling
crowd about the fish, which must have been a rare feast for them.

I picked up a beautiful and perfect specimen of the fragile shell of the
pearly nautilus, thin as paper, fluted and corrugated with lovely
regularity, and tinted like the shaded petals of a blush rose. Rarely
beautiful, divinely perfect, this sample of nature’s handiwork, cast up
by the foaming, angry breakers amid the brown tangle of the shore and
the foul-smelling ocean-weeds, seemed like a poem, a hymn in praise of
nature’s God. I put the delicate and perfect structure carefully in my
bosom to carry away as a memento of my island home.

We reached the cape, and I clambered up the highest rock from which I
could obtain a clear outlook, and found my buoy all right, rising and
falling with the swell, now submerged, and now reappearing, evidently
tugging at its anchor-rope, and securely held thereby.

I thought how peacefully slept the ancient hulk beneath all this
turbulence. Undisturbed by wind or wave it lay there slowly changing its
tough timbers of Andalusian oak back into the elements from which they
sprang. I thought, too, of the indestructible gold that lay buried
there, waiting the fulness of time for its reappearance in the active
life of man; how long the years had been since it had felt the grip of
avarice or slid freely from the fingers of charity.

Suddenly I saw away upon the rim of the sea in the northeast, in the
very eye of the wind, the white glint of a small sail. The mist, the
waves, and the changing rain hid it momently, and then it would gleam
out again a white spark among the gray. I watched it intently for a
quarter of an hour, and made out that it must be a small schooner-rigged
boat hove to with jib and close reefed mainsail, drifting bodily before
the wind, and rolling in a frightful manner. The mainmast had been
broken off at the top, and on the foremast, half-masted, fluttered a red
flag. I made out clearly, presently, that the craft was merely a
half-decked boat similar to my own, though perhaps of somewhat larger
size, and I thought I could see somebody on board, but could not
distinguish clearly. But of course, if it was hove to, there would be
some one on board, as such a condition of the canvas would not be likely
to occur by accident in a boat fortuitously adrift. If the wind held in
the present quarter, the boat was certain to drift on to the island, and
that too in a short time. It would not take above two hours and a half
for it to reach the breakers, unless it could run before the wind and
thus make a course to avoid the island. Very soon indeed, the island
would be a lee shore, and an exceedingly dangerous one. I marvelled
greatly that they did not seem to see this danger.

There was but one thing I could do, and that was the preparation of
beacon-fires to guide them into the creek mouth, the only harbor on the
east coast of the island. With this in view I hurried as fast as
possible down the beach to the house, and laid two fires, one on each
side of the creek mouth, heaping up the dry wood from my store in such a
manner that it would make a great blaze, and getting all in readiness to
light as soon as the sun went down. The wind was appreciably less, and I
believed was gradually decreasing. Moreover, it had now stopped raining,
and I could see the boat more distinctly.

An hour before sunset I thought it would be possible to go out with my
own boat under double-reefed canvas, and intercept the stranger.
Something was undoubtedly wrong on board of her, otherwise she would not
be allowed thus to drift to leeward without control, with the island in
plain sight. If there should prove to be no one on board, I might
possibly be able to save the boat, which could hardly fail to prove
better than my own. On the other hand, should there be some one on
board, I might render valuable assistance. I determined forthwith to
make the attempt. So I lighted my fires and got on board.

It was no easy matter to run my boat out over the bar in the teeth of a
half-gale of wind; and I did not accomplish it without getting
completely wet through, as I was obliged to tail on behind and push her
out through the breakers until I was immersed to my neck in salt water,
and then clamber in over the stern and haul aft the main sheet with the
sail flapping and thundering as though determined to burst loose.
However, I soon got her under control and was gliding along close
hauled on the starboard tack, with the spray, as she pitched nose down,
flying as high as the gaff, and raining down on the deck in bucketfuls.

The sun was about an hour high as I left the creek, and the strange boat
in plain sight about a mile and a half dead to windward. I could easily
get to windward of her in a single tack, by standing well off shore on
the first slant.

When I came up near enough to hail I did so, and got no response.
Getting to windward I wore and ran down quite to the boat, and letting
both sheets go, loosened the halliards and lowered the mainsail, and
brought my own boat close up along side. For the moment my own sail hid
the vessel and I could not see what was before me. But now I looked and
saw lying in the stern sheets what seemed to be the corpse of an old,
gray-haired man of perhaps seventy years, the head held by a girl of
eighteen or thereabouts.

I never shall forget the look that was on her face. Pale, drawn, with
dishevelled hair, and dark circles around her beautiful eyes, she gazed
at me without a word.

“Do you know,” cried I, “that you are drifting on to the beach and will
be among the breakers in half an hour?”

For answer she pointed to her dry lips.

“Is it water you want?”

She nodded. I hastily cast a line on board and lashed the two vessels
together, where grinding they rose and fell with the waves, and then
seizing a gourd of water made my way to the girl. She would not drink
herself until after I had poured some water into the mouth of the old
man, who though perfectly helpless was still alive, and swallowed the
water as fast as I gave it to him. Then I held the mouth of the heavy
gourd to her own lips until I thought she had drunk enough. She gripped
it with both hands, and I had to force it away from her. It was a
pitiful sight.

But there was no time to lose, for we were fast drifting into the
breakers, and it was absolutely necessary to get the boats before the
wind and get steerage way on, or we should be on shore and dashed to
pieces by the rollers. I sprang forward and loosened the main sheet of
the strange boat, unlashed the helm which was tied amidships, and she
paid off at once handsomely.

The sun was now quite down, but my two beacon-fires burned brightly, and
I steered straight for them. Finding my own boat alongside had a
tendency to bring us around to the wind, I put the helm into the girl’s
hand and bade her hold it just so, and jumping on to my own boat lowered
the jib, that was still set, cast off the lashing, and hitching a line
forward made her fast to tow. I then hauled up and got on board the
other boat again, and let my own boat drop behind us. Now I found no
difficulty in steering, though my own boat would yaw and pull a little,
first one way and then the other.

We were soon close to the bar, and I felt no little apprehension as to
what might happen when we actually encountered the huge roller which
broke every few moments there. But there was no help for it; we must
take our chances, one of which--and not the least probable--was that the
first boat might ground and the one in tow come crashing in on top of
us. Fortunately,--for it was pure good-luck,--we struck a roller just at
the right moment which lifted us over the bar as it broke. The tow-line
snapped in twain as we were on the crest, and my own boat shot alongside
like a waterfowl and passed us, both boats riding into the creek
alongside of each other, the red glare of the beacon-fires at either
hand lighting up the scene like the last act of a sensational drama.

As soon as we were fairly in the creek I jumped overboard, the water not
being above my chest, and beached both the boats safely. The girl still
sat holding the old man’s head, and had not spoken a word. But she
followed my motions with her eyes, and I could easily read therein that
she was grateful enough for my exertions, and appreciated the danger we
had escaped.

The old man could apparently neither speak nor move. An ashen pallor lay
on his countenance, and one side of his face, especially one corner of
his mouth, was drawn down and distorted,--a sufficient indication, had I
understood it, that he was suffering from a stroke of paralysis. From
his clothing, which was soaked with spray, I could easily see that he
was a clergyman.

I helped the girl out, partly carrying her as she could scarcely stand,
and then attempted to lift out the old man. He was a heavy, strongly
built man, weighing all of two hundred and fifty pounds. A heavy,
helpless man is about as awkward a burden as one can imagine. Limp and
yielding he could not be picked up except by the middle, and he was so
lying in the boat that it was impossible for me to get a good hold of
him in such position as to exert my strength. His clothing, all soaked
with rain and salt water, clung to him, and must have chilled his poor
helpless body through. If he was to live at all it was absolutely
necessary to get him warm and dry right speedily.

Meantime the poor girl stood shivering in her equally wet garments,
looking on anxiously at my efforts. Finally she spoke: “I think if you
will turn him across the boat, you may be able to lift his head and
shoulders up here,”--placing her hand on the gunwale. “Have courage,
dear father, he will be gentle with you.”

A wan flicker, somewhat like the wrecked ghost of a smile, seemed to
pass over the old man’s distorted face at the words of the girl, the
first I had heard her utter. It was idle to expect any help from her, as
she could scarcely stand, and was in fact partly supporting herself with
her hands on the boat. Following the daughter’s suggestion, I moved her
father around until he lay thwartships, and then placing my feet on the
gunwale and seizing him under the arms pulled him bodily up until his
head and shoulders were out of the boat. Then jumping overboard I
managed to get him fairly on my back, his back to my own with my two
hands under his armpits. Though I accounted myself pretty strong, and
the hardy life on the island had by no means diminished my muscular
power, this lift was the very limit of my strength. With bare feet
fairly gripping the yielding sand, and the water above my knees, I
managed to stagger through it to the shore and up to the work-shed,
where I sank on my knees and lowered him to the ground. The girl
followed us. I turned to her as soon as my breath came, and said, “Go
and stand by the fire, you are chilled almost to death. I shall be able
to get your father into the house and into a warm, dry bed, where I can
change these wet clothes.”

“I can be of some help, can I not?” said she with a piteous look. “Oh,
sir, be careful and gentle with him, I beseech you.”

“No, I can manage better alone, and you need to warm yourself,” said I,
and without waiting longer I stooped to the old man again, and now with
much greater ease managed, by putting my arms around him, to lift him
and carry him to the house, where I laid him down on the floor, and
immediately went to the beacon-fire near which the girl was seated. I
secured two half-burned pieces of wood, and returning to the house
built a rousing good fire in the chimney, and lighted a candle. Then as
rapidly as I could do so I stripped off his clothes and rolled him in a
dry blanket on a couch of grass.

“Are you more comfortable now?”

For answer came the abortive flicker, as of a throttled smile, and he
closed and opened his eyes once or twice as though assenting.

“Can’t you speak at all?”

A sort of struggle seemed to come over his face; then he closed his eyes
and held them shut for a moment. It then dawned upon me that the man was
suffering from a paralytic stroke. Up to this time, without giving the
matter any particular attention, I had thought that perhaps he was
merely suffering from chill and exhaustion, and several times during my
tremendous struggle with his weight it had been on my tongue to urge him
to exert himself for his own sake. Now the awful nature of his
condition, his utter helplessness, the mental torture he must have
endured and be yet enduring, came upon me and must have shown itself in
my face; for as he looked at me he closed his eyes again in the same
manner as before. There he lay swathed in the blanket, his intelligence
intact, perfectly able to see all that went on around him, and to
realize his situation and condition, doubtless also fully alive, so far
as sensation went, to every pain and discomfort, and yet utterly unable
to stir hand or foot or speak a word. Even distorted as his face was,
there was the stamp of a noble, generous nature upon it, and a venerable
benevolence yet shone forth from every feature. What a terrible fate was
this. I was moved to deepest pity by the contemplation of it.

I placed my hand upon his forehead and said gently, “Be assured and
rest easy now. I will go and bring your daughter here and see that she
is made comfortable. Here are food and shelter for you both, and you are
most heartily welcome to it and to my best assistance.”

I found the daughter sitting on the sand before the fire, her wet
garments already steaming from the heat. I told her that her father was
as comfortable as it was possible to make him, and that she had better
go to him and see if she could not get off some of her wet garments. In
the mean time I would get some food warm for them both.

“For pity’s sake,” said she in a tremulous and vibrant voice, “let me
have some water. We have been three days without water except what you
gave us.”

Without waiting to reproach myself for not doing sooner what I should
have known from personal experience was the thing to do, I ran to my
boat and got a gourd full and held it for her to drink. I then went with
her to the house and gave the old man a long drink.

The girl then said to me that on board there was a trunk containing her
clothing, and that she would be glad if she could have it; that as there
were several chests and trunks stowed under the deck forward, I would
know hers by such and such marks and peculiarities. I went down and got
the trunk, and moreover took out a chest and another trunk, which I put
under the work-shed, bringing her trunk up to the house. I had afterward
to be again called to get it open for her, as the key could not be
turned by her slender fingers.

Getting out of my boat a pan of baked pork and beans, I proceeded to
extemporize a hot soup by mashing up some of the beans and adding half
of a pepperpod and some water, and setting the preparation on the fire
to come to a boil. This made a good hot porridge soup, and did not take
long in preparation. When it was ready I went up to the house with the
kettle and knocked at the door; it was opened by the girl, her dress
changed for a dry one and much of the distress seemingly gone from her
pale, beautiful face.

“Here,” said I, “is some hot bean porridge for your father and you; and
here are a couple of cocoanut-shells from which to eat it. I will take
some for myself down at the shed.”

“But,” replied she, “we cannot drive you out of your house, sir; why do
you not come here and eat with us?”

“Very well, if you like,” said I. “There will be some corn-bread also
and plenty of water to drink.”

We ate heartily of the soup and bread, the old man taking only the soup.

I then brought up my hammock and swung it as low down as possible for
the girl, and took back the mainsail, that had once formed a tent at
Farm Cove, to use for my own bed at the shed. I explained as well as I
could how she should sleep in the hammock, and gave her one of the
blankets. She assured me she had often slept in a hammock and thought
she could manage it. She was then about to explain how she and her
father came to be adrift in the boat; but I stopped her by saying, “No,
let us wait until to-morrow. You are both exhausted and need sleep and
rest. You shall tell me all about it in the morning.” And then I wished
them both good-night.

“Good-night, and God bless you, sir, for your kindness,” answered the
girl.

When I reached the shed, built up a fire close by, and lay down it was
after nine o’clock, and as the wind had gone down, and the rain was
over, it was not so chilly as to make wet garments especially
dangerous, though sufficiently disagreeable. However, rolled up in the
sail with my feet to the fire, I soon felt warm enough to sleep. The
rescue of the two people on the island seemed likely to prove at least a
temporary hindrance to the execution of my plans; for I could not see
how it was possible, for a few days at least, to leave the island, as
the old man was in no condition to undertake such a voyage in an open
boat, and probably would not survive it. Indeed, that the hardships
which he had already undergone had not killed him was a sufficient
matter for wonder. No, I could not leave these people now, and at
present, for days and perhaps for weeks, it would be impracticable and
cruel to attempt to carry him away either in my boat or his own.
Doubtless, if I were to suggest departure, they would agree to it, and
undertake the voyage; but I saw it would be little less than murder.
However, if he should be no better in a week or two, then, provided he
still retained his present vitality, it might be wise to attempt to get
him where a physician could see him.

It was no use repining over this enforced delay. Humanity, and the
commonest sense of duty to my fellows, demanded that I should stand by
these helpless ones so long as they stood so absolutely in need of my
aid. The food question, which had long since ceased to trouble me, might
now, by reason of the increase in the number of mouths to fill, become
something to require considerable exertion, planning, and thought. The
weak spot in the larder was likely to be the supply of breadstuffs and
vegetables. There would be no lack of pork and fish. Judging from the
appearance of several boxes and gunny sacks on board the strangers’
boat, there was a supply of food there which might be relied upon to
tide over any present necessity that might arise, though my own supply
was still considerable.

Then too I must rig up as soon as possible in the house, perhaps by
hanging a curtain which could be temporarily drawn at night, a place of
privacy for the girl. At night the old man would require somebody to
watch him more or less, or at least be near him. I could not expect his
daughter to take this all upon herself, as that would be physically
impossible. How to manage about this puzzled me considerably. For a
short stay of a week or two I did not like to go to the considerable
trouble of enlarging my house, and yet the requirements of the situation
seemed actually to demand three separate rooms.

At last, as a compromise, I hit upon the idea of cutting down the back
wall of the house, between the house proper and the lean-to addition
wherein my provisions were stored, and which had been used upon occasion
as a smoke house. The provisions could be stored if necessary on board
the boats, or under the work-shed. And a wide doorway cut between the
two compartments would, with a curtain dividing the larger one, give me
the necessary room. I myself would take as my sleeping-place the added
room, and by arranging a couple of bunks, the thing would be done.

CHAPTER XI.

ALICE AND HER FATHER.

The next morning, when shortly after dawn I awoke from a sound,
refreshing sleep, my clothes were dried upon me, the storm had passed,
and there was promise of a calm, clear day. Raking together the few
coals that remained, I soon had my fire burning brightly, and then went
down to look at the two boats lying in the creek. The stranger I found
had the name “Alice” painted on either bow. The “Alice” proved upon
closer examination a much larger boat than the “Mohawk.” She was fully
four feet longer, and much broader and deeper. A flush deck extended aft
from the bows about one third of her whole length, and as in my own
boat, was carried clear aft at each side of a well which was protected
by an upright washboard. She was provided with an iron centre-board,
hinged at the forward end on a pivot. A very considerable rise or sheer
fore and aft indicated that she would be pretty safe in heavy weather
and high seas. There was a good boat’s-compass swung in gimballs, and
mounted near the after part of the well, where it would be in sight of
the steersman, and an extinguished lantern lying near it, as though to
be used when needed, for a binnacle light. The boat was very strongly
built, and evidently intended as a sea-going craft. An oiled tarpaulin,
buttoned over pins on the washboard, partly covered the well-hole
forward, and evidently could be drawn over the whole opening in case of
heavy seas.

Of course I was much interested in the examination of the boat, and in
the minutest detail of her construction and condition, as I expected
when I came to leave the island to use her instead of my own boat, an
exchange of vessels greatly to my advantage. On the deck just forward of
the foremast a water cask had been lashed. The two hollowed skids nailed
to the deck were still there in place. There was a ringbolt let into the
deck at each side originally, designed to take the cask lashings. One of
these ringbolts was pulled through the deck and the water cask was gone.
This condition told the story almost as plainly as words. A heavy sea
had struck the port bow and coming on board had washed away the cask,
tearing out the bolt. The tarpaulin had saved the vessel from filling.

I looked to the mooring-lines to see that both boats were secure, and
then waded over the creek to a place above the willows, where there was
a clear, bright-bottomed pool, sheltered from view and well adapted for
the fresh-water bath which I needed. Here, too, was a gourd of soap,
placed there on former occasions for the bath.

I was in the very midst of the soap-and-water refreshment when I saw on
a log at the bank and among the leaves what I took for the head of a
huge python or boa constrictor. A hideous head, thrust out toward me
through the foliage, bright eyes gleaming like jewels, a wrinkled,
pouchy throat,--the unmistakable reptilian characteristics,--caused a
shiver of horror to pass through me for a moment. My first impulse was
to fly and leave my clothing on the bank. Up to this time I had not seen
a single snake, great or small, venomous or harmless, on the island.
Backing and edging slowly away, I soon reached a point where I could
plainly see that my terrible snake had feet, Ah! it was nothing more
nor less than an iguana, a great, harmless species of lizard that loves
to haunt the banks of the streams; not only harmless but edible, a
delicate morsel for an epicure, hunted as zealously as the Marylanders
seek for diamond-back terrapin.

Instantly from fancying myself the hunted I became the hunter. I had
tasted iguana-stew at Martinique, and had a distinct recollection of the
delicate white meat, with a flavor apparently compounded of those of
spring chicken, green turtle, and frogs’ legs.

The reptile remained perfectly motionless, with the exception of a sort
of regular waving of the folds of the pouched throat. I quietly lowered
myself into the water and went a few rods down stream to the boats,
where I got a strong cord and a stout ten-foot cane pole. I made a
running noose in the cord and hung it upon the pole. With this apparatus
I returned and found the lizard still pumping slowly away with his
throat, in precisely the same place and attitude. Slowly and cautiously
I waded up at one side, until I was distant the length of the pole, and
then by infinite degrees advanced the noose, watching the pumping in the
wrinkled throat, until the loop was fairly over the head, but of course
without touching the reptile.

Just then the pumping action abruptly stopped. But I did not wait for
him to be off. On the contrary, I hauled aft on my line like lightning,
the noose closed around the ugly neck and jerked a fifty-pound iguana
splashing into the creek. As I had no mind to feel his sharp claws, I
drove the end of the pole into his mouth and thus between cord and pole
held him firmly in the water. He swam like a fish, but he was too
securely caught to get away. I dragged him up to the bank where my
clothing lay, and getting hold of my knife dispatched him; then I
hurriedly clothed myself and cleaned the iguana, taking off the skin
and cutting him up ready for the pot. And in fifteen minutes a good
portion of him was in my iron kettle and on the fire.

Though snaring big lizards is not perhaps within the strict limits of
what may properly be called true sport, still I must say that for real
excitement, eager earnestness of pursuit, and genuine pleasure at the
capture, I have never experienced before nor since anything approaching
the hunter’s joy excited by this morning’s pot hunt for an iguana.

As I stood by the fire the door of the house opened, and the girl came
out. She had on some sort of light dress, and all trace of the
bedraggled condition of the previous evening was gone; her brown hair
was smoothly swept back from a face still pale, and a bit of bright
ribbon at the neck gave the effect of a flower. She came down toward me
with a kindly smile and a good-morning greeting, which I returned.
Somehow a senseless, foolish embarrassment came over me, which like an
idiot I attributed to the fact that I did not know her name. Actuated by
a ridiculous impulse, I pulled out my pocketbook and extracted therefrom
a stained and withered visiting-card, whereon in the most _recherché_
style of the copperplate engraver’s art appeared my name, “William
Morgan.” This precious document I handed to her with a deliberate bow,
hat in hand. A smile ran over her countenance as she bent to receive it,
so very expressive that I could not fail to understand it. She was
undoubtedly laughing at me. Like a flash the full absurdity
and incongruity of my act came over me. I pictured my own
appearance,--barefoot, clad in pantaloons of moleskin stained to a
thousand tints of autumn brown and rolled up half-way to the knee, a
blue flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up and throat open, and a hat of
bungling rushes; my skin, where exposed, tanned and peeled; a great
bush and shock of hair, the growth of nine months, tangled and unkempt,
faded by the sun at the ends, and reaching down to my shoulders; the
cavalier air; the limp, red-stained, dirty visiting card. I felt the hot
blood surge for a moment into my face, and then the absurdity of it all
overpowered me and I laughed aloud. She also, after a little struggle,
and looking at me again to see, perhaps, whether I was hurt, joined in
the chorus, my visiting-card in her hand.

“Mr. Morgan,” said she presently, “both my father and I are deeply
grateful to you. You saved our lives, and your kindness and tenderness
to a helpless old man I shall never forget. I thank you for him and for
myself. My father’s name,” here there was a faint indication of a return
of the smile, “is Caleb Millward, and mine is Alice.”

I asked her how her father had passed the night, and was informed that
he had slept almost continuously, and was still slumbering peacefully.
Then I told her that I thought her father was suffering from paralysis,
produced, probably, by cerebral hemorrhage; that some small blood vessel
had burst in the brain, and that if this could become absorbed in a
reasonably short period he would probably recover the use of his
faculties either wholly or partially; that we could only await results,
keeping him warm, well nourished and quiet; that I believed this was all
the best of doctors could do for him, and that we must put our trust in
his good constitution and the favor of the Almighty, and hope for the
best.

I learned from her account that her father, Caleb Millward, was a
missionary, whose work for the past five years had been among the coolie
laborers, of whom large numbers from Hindostan and the lower provinces
of China had been imported into various of the West India Islands, under
what has been known as the contract-labor system, only another name for
slavery. Her mother had died several years before, during a yellow fever
epidemic, and since her death the Rev. Mr. Millward had broken up his
permanent home station, and had travelled in a regular circuit from
point to point in his little schooner, making a complete round in a
period of about six months. It was on one of these trips, while sailing
from one small island to another, that the series of mishaps took place
which resulted in their being cast away. There was on board only her
father, herself, and a young Jamaican of English descent, who was
employed to help sail the boat, and to take care of the vessel when in
port. The voyage they were at the time engaged upon, was a traverse of
about twenty miles. The wind was fair with no appearance of bad weather.
Suddenly a tremendous wave was seen approaching, not parallel with the
swell but at an angle thereto. All three saw it coming down. Her father
called out to the Jamaican to lower some sail, and the Jamaican was
forward at this work, when the sea struck the boat with tremendous force
and dashed him overboard, and also tore loose the water cask and carried
it away. The Jamaican never rose to the surface. Her father, she said,
appeared to be wonderfully affected by the accident, and soon grew faint
and half stupid. Presently partially recovering, he set the sails so
that the boat was hove to under the sail that she subsequently bore,
then almost immediately sank down unconscious. He remained thus all day
breathing heavily, and then came to, but was unable to move. So they
drifted without water, until the storm came and they were drenched with
spray. After a long period of suffering they were rescued as we have
seen. This was the story of their disaster. Leaving Miss Millward to
watch the stew, I went up to the house, and finding the old man now
awake gave him a thorough rubbing with my hands,--a sort of massage
treatment,--until the circulation of the blood was evident on the
surface. This seemed to do him good. Then I put on his clothes, now dry,
and returned to the fire.

Miss Millward had gone down to the “Alice” and rummaged out some spoons
and knives and forks, a small tablecloth, some salt and some black
pepper, three bowls, three plates, and some glass tumblers, and had them
at the fire in a hand basket, and the kettle containing the stew had
been removed from the fire.

“Now, Mr. Morgan,” said she, as I came up, “Let us understand each
other. I intend while we stay here to make myself useful. I have been
taught to work, and the cooking and housekeeping are woman’s work. You
will let me do that work as far as I am able, will you not?”

“Certainly I will, Miss Millward. There will be plenty of work for both
of us. It will relieve me, and frankly, I think you will be better
contented and happier for it.”

“Very well, then. Please give me a lift with this kettle to the house.
Our breakfast is ready as soon as the cloth can be laid.”

That breakfast of delicious iguana-stew, toasted pilot-bread, and cool,
pure water sparkling in glass, set on a clean, white cloth, and eaten
from real dishes with the table implements of civilization, will linger
long in my memory. I picture the scene before me even now; the cool
white interior, the old man stretched on the couch, the table presenting
to my long unaccustomed eyes an appearance of elegance, though plain and
common enough in reality, the savory fragrance of the stew, the
beautiful girl seated opposite me, the open doorway, and the glimpse
through it of the sunlit sea,--all return to me as a happy, pleasant
dream. It seemed to me then like a dream, and as though it all might
fade away on awakening.

Heretofore I had eaten my food in a perfunctory fashion, spending no
unnecessary time over it, with no special enjoyment except the
satisfaction due to hunger allayed. Now all was different. Meals were
about to become, I foresaw, delightful domestic episodes, enlivened by
talk and rendered social by companionship. This was life, and not a mere
struggle for existence.

We discussed the proposed changes to be made in the interior by cutting
an enlarged opening through to the store-room, the hanging of a
sail-cloth curtain, and the building of bunks. I explained how I was
cast upon the island, and my experiences since then. But I did not
mention the purpose of my voyage nor say anything about the wreck of the
galleon.

When finally we had finished, and I had reluctantly risen, she said:
“Mr. Morgan, I should like it very much if you would get me a broom.”

“Nothing will be easier, Miss Housekeeper,” replied I, and immediately
brought in a cedar-bough. This she eyed ruefully, but accepted as the
only available substitute for the familiar domestic weapon.

All that day I devoted to the work of clearing out the store-house,
cutting the opening, rigging up the curtain, and building a bunk for
myself in the new apartment. I did not build the second bunk, as I had
intended, for a new plan had occurred to me; namely, to construct a
movable couch for Mr. Millward to lie upon, and on which I could convey
him on occasion out into the sun or on the porch, and upon which he
might be propped up in a sitting posture. But before the day was over I
had arranged some shelving at each side of the fireplace for Miss
Millward’s dishes and domestic appliances. It was simply delightful to
be called to a dinner that I had no hand in preparing, and to witness
the air of homelike comfort given to the little house by this girl. The
whole atmosphere seemed changed. Not that one could note any great or
marked alteration; but in little details here and there, were evidences
of a woman’s hand,--a bit of white cloth disposed over the windows as a
curtain, my nautilus shell set on the mantel-shelf with a spray of
flowers, and a hundred similar trifles; perhaps most of all, the
unaccustomed presence of others, the sound of a woman’s voice, her light
footstep, and the rustle of her garments. I did not attempt to analyze
my feelings, but at any rate the place seemed like a home, and I began
in advance to regret the day of leaving it.

That night I slept again at the shed. Before I retired, however, Miss
Millward asked me to wait until she read a chapter in the Bible to her
father. And when this was done she gently lifted the old man’s helpless
hands together in an attitude of prayer, and then prayed aloud herself,
in such a pathetic and tender manner that the tears came to my eyes in
spite of myself.

The next day, after getting a stock of cedar, I started to fashion the
couch for Mr. Millward. This with the making of another armchair
occupied two days. The couch I made like a great chair, with a back
pivoted to fold down or prop up, and wove an upholstery of rushes. It
occurred to me that I could easily saw some wheels out of a round limb
and mount them as rollers on which to move the couch more easily over
the smooth floor; and this improvement I added. When the couch was
finished there was then a bunk for each of the well ones and the couch
for the invalid, and I therefore took up my quarters in the house, which
I was glad to do, as I could then give Miss Millward a needed relief in
helping watch the sick man at night. By wheeling his couch beside my own
this was an easy matter.

In the morning we wheeled the old gentleman out upon the porch and
propped him up for a rest, until he would sign with his eyes to be
lowered again. I kept up the rubbing daily. At the end of about a week I
noticed that he could move the fingers of his right hand. This was a
most promising sign; and I then began to rub him regularly three times a
day. In the course of two days more he could use this hand and arm quite
freely, and recovered some power in the muscles of his neck so that he
could turn his head. But though he could utter some unintelligible
sounds he could not yet articulate anything. He kept making signs as
though he wanted something, which I could not understand. I got out a
pencil and some paper, which he took and attempted to write, but I could
not read the characters. His daughter, however, coming out just then,
was able to comprehend his wants at once, and going in to where his coat
hung, brought out his spectacles and placed them on his eyes. The old
man then wrote plainly the word “Bible,” and the book was brought to
him. Propped up on his couch he turned the leaves and began to read with
an air of perfect contentment. The distorted appearance of his face had
gradually been passing away, and when his daughter gave him the book his
countenance was lighted up with a singularly sweet smile.

In the present condition of the old man I felt that if he could have a
little generous wine, as port or Madeira, to drink it would be a benefit
to him. Some alcoholic stimulant in small amount was evidently what he
needed. But such a thing could not be had. Why should I not make
whiskey? I remembered that the negroes frequently made what they called
palm wine from the juice of the cocoanut palm. And I had drunk both the
sweetish, fresh preparation and the same in the sour, fermented stage,
the latter being quite alcoholic in its nature. Moreover, I knew the
whole process of obtaining this drink; for I had watched the negro boys
climb the palms at Martinique, bind and cut the unopened flower spathes,
and attach the small gourds or little earthen chatties to catch the
juice as it trickled out.

Without explaining my purpose either to the old man or his daughter, I
climbed six palms that evening, bound the flower spathes to prevent them
from opening, tied them in a bent position, and cut off the point,
attaching to each spathe a gourd to receive the liquid drippings. The
next morning I collected from these trees nearly two gallons of sweet
sap, and cutting each spathe to a fresh surface left them to flow again.
When I brought the sap down it was already beginning to ferment, and had
somewhat the taste of sweet cider with a slight sparkle. I put half a
pint of it in a bottle, corked it tight, and tied the cork. Some of it I
set in an open gourd in the shade; and about a gallon I set on the fire
in a pan, intending to boil this latter portion down into syrup, or into
“jaggery,” as the gummy, sweet preparation is called. In about three
hours after collecting it that portion which was left in the open gourd
had changed to such condition as to have a sharp, sub-acid taste,
something like hock. I immediately drank a tumbler full of it, and found
in a few minutes that it had indeed already developed sufficient alcohol
to make that amount all that a person of sober habits would care to
imbibe at one time. It was pleasant to the taste and very refreshing,
and had a sparkle and a slight hum like new ale, when poured into the
glass. I gave the old man a tumbler full, and also his daughter, and for
company’s sake took an additional half-tumbler myself. It did him good,
apparently, at least he seemed greatly to relish it, and held out his
glass to be filled again.

“Why, this is like wine!” exclaimed Miss Millward, “where did you get
it?”

“We have wine trees on our island, Miss Millward, and I have been
tapping them, as you will see,” pointing to the suspended gourds, some
of which could be seen from the porch where we sat in the shade. I then
explained to her the whole process, and my purpose in making the wine. I
showed her the pan of boiling sap, and she at once undertook to attend
to the treacle-making. That evening at supper I opened the bottle which
I had filled, and the cork flew out with a report like a pistol, the
wine bubbling and frothing like champagne. This the invalid drank alone.
The sap left in the open gourd turned quite sour, like vinegar; but I
did not have any use for it in that condition and so poured it out. The
result of the boiling was about a pint of thick, dark-colored sweet
syrup, or treacle, of a rather pleasant taste. By carrying the boiling
still farther it could of course be reduced to the condition of the
sugar called jaggery. But it was more convenient for use in its treacly
state.

The unusual and remarkable rapidity of the fermentative change in this
palm-sap had the attendant inconvenience that it would require to be
gathered fresh every day, if used for wine. I therefore concluded that I
would make a still and distil a brandy from the fermented sap, which I
could subsequently use as a check to the fermentation in the wine,
after the manner that port-wine, sherry, Madeira, and other similar
wines are prepared. I took a large earthen jar which would hold three or
four gallons, and luted to the mouth of it with clay a gourd cut with an
opening to correspond with the jar mouth. I then procured a long,
straight cane about three inches in diameter at the butt, tapering in a
length of twenty feet to less than an inch. I split this cane throughout
the whole length and cut away the septum or partition which occurs at
each joint. I then joined the two split halves together, pitched the
joint, and wound the whole length with cord to hold it solid, and
afterwards wound over all a grass rope of rather loose texture. In the
neck of the gourd I inserted the butt of this cane tube and luted the
joint with clay, but so that it could be removed. The cane tube led away
in a nearly horizontal direction, having a slight fall from the gourd
outward.

I now collected palm-sap enough to fill the jar, and when it had
undergone a full fermentation, and just before it turned sour, I set it
on in the still to boil over a fire. The gourd and tube were in place
and the joints well luted. Then as soon as the fermented sap began to
boil and throw off vapor, I wet the grass rope that surrounded the tube,
and set a vessel to receive what came dripping from the end of the tube
in drops. Very soon the brandy began to come over in a warm, thin,
trickling stream. When I had collected a little over a quart I stopped
the process for fear of getting some other product over. It was good,
strong brandy, and had no disagreeable flavor, being quite clear, with a
slight yellow tint.

I had now what I needed for my wine-making, and made use of it in the
following manner: I collected a fresh supply of the sap and permitted
fermentation to proceed in it until it was, as I thought, at the
precise point where it had the best sub-acid flavor. I then added some
of the palm syrup to sweeten it a little, and also enough of the
brandy--about half a pint to the gallon--to stop the further
fermentation. The wine so prepared had a rough resemblance to port. It
was quite pleasant to the taste, and would keep any length of time.
Having now a supply of about two gallons I made no more, as there was
enough for the invalid, and nobody else needed it, or cared particularly
for it.

CHAPTER XII.

THE PROBLEM.

Day by day the old man slowly improved in condition until at the end of
three weeks he was able to sit in the armchair with comfort. He startled
us one morning by uttering his daughter’s name, and little by little
recovered the use of his tongue. He was not yet able to stand or walk,
and it was still doubtful whether he would recover the use of his lower
limbs. I felt reasonably confident, however, that he would do so
ultimately.

As soon as he could talk, almost his first words were a request to me to
get the Jamaican sailor’s chest from the boat and use the clothing for
myself. I was glad enough to do this, as almost any sort of change was
acceptable. I found in the chest a number of good shirts, both woollen
and cotton, a good, serviceable suit of dark tweed, and two complete
suits of white duck; also socks and underwear, and a good straw hat.
These things fitted me very well, but a pair of dancing pumps were so
small that I could not get them on my feet; however, my own shoes were
still very good. The kind-hearted old man then said that if I wished it
he would cut my hair; he thought he could use his daughter’s scissors
well enough. But I did not fancy having him clipping about my ears with
uncertain fingers, and resolutely declined. My hair, which now reached
to my shoulders, was as long as it was likely to grow. The ends,
exposed freely, would naturally wear and fray away as fast as it grew,
and I concluded to let it go as it was until I reached civilization.

Thinking about my plans one day, it occurred to me that it would not be
a bad idea to plant a garden for use when I should return to the island.
Potatoes and yams, and fresh green corn would not be a bad provision to
have ready at hand in plenty while working at the sunken galleon. There
was a patch of good, rich soil near the creek, now covered with dry
grass, beneath which the new grass had sprung since the rains. By
burning it over the ground might be readily cleared for a couple of
acres in extent. I put fire to it at several places on the windward side
and it was soon black and bare. I began at once with the shovel to break
up the soil in spots, and to make hills for the potatoes and yams, and
to form a place in which to plant the corn. With the hoe I could
subsequently go over the ground between the hills and cut up the grass
when it started. After I had been working a couple of days at this
severe labor, Mr. Millward asked me why I thought it necessary to
prepare to plant so extensively, as we should soon be leaving the
island.

“I shall be well enough in a week or two longer to go. You are making
provision there as though you expected we were all to remain here for
six months longer,” said he.

I looked at him a moment before answering, debating with myself what
reply to make. At last I said, “Mr. Millward, I expect to return to this
island after we have reached Martinique.”

“And why should you do that?” he asked, with an air of surprise.

“I may tell you the reason why, and think perhaps I shall,” I answered,
and continued after a pause, “I believe I may trust you, and that you
will not betray me. It is now a secret known only to me.”

The old man said no more, and we changed the subject of conversation.

That afternoon while at work in the new garden I considered carefully
the propriety of telling the Millwards about the galleon. It would be a
great comfort to have some one to talk to and advise with concerning the
matter, and I already knew enough of these people to feel confident they
would not betray me. On the other hand was it best to tell any one of my
secret? But I finally decided to give them my confidence. And that
evening, as we sat in front of the fire,--a chill rain having set in,--I
told to the father and the daughter the whole story of my coming to the
island, the search for the wreck, the successful location of the sunken
hulk, and also what my plans for the future were. Mr. Millward after
listening to it all said, “Now, Mr. Morgan, I am better able to
appreciate the sacrifice you are making in remaining here with us, and
the great inconvenience to which we are putting you. Is it not better
that you should start at once? I think I shall now be able to stand the
voyage.”

“As soon as you are strong enough to stand the voyage, Mr. Millward,”
said I, “we will start; but not before that time.”

Mr. Millward now asked to see the pearls of which I had told him in the
course of my statement. When I had handed them to him, he said, “These
pearls are highly valuable. I am sufficiently familiar with the value of
such gems to be able to assure you that you have ten thousand dollars’
worth here, at a very low estimate, and perhaps double that amount in
value.”

I asked him where I could find a market for them. He thought that it
would not be wise to attempt to sell them anywhere in the islands,
unless at Havana, but that Havana would probably prove as good a market
as I could find anywhere. He further told me that he had heard a rumor
of a valuable pearl fishery having been found and secretly worked
somewhere among the islands. No doubt this island was the place. If so
we might expect the pearl fishers to return at any time. Now this was a
prospect which was very far from pleasant to contemplate; not because
they might lay claim to my pearls,--I had no fear of that,--nor because
I could not substantiate my right to the abandoned property, or if
necessary give them up without a murmur. The situation was more serious
than that. These pearl fishers, if they came, would be out in their
boats and prowling about, and would be sure to find out what I was
doing. Moreover, they would doubtless be a well armed, lawless, and
adventurous set. If they found us on the island, and knew that we had
discovered their secret, there was no telling what they might do. It
made me feel very uneasy. If by any accident they should run across my
buoy, the first thing would be to send a diver down and my own secret
would be disclosed.

“I shall go to-morrow morning and remove that buoy,” said I.

The old man agreed with me that this would be advisable.

That night I slept very little till toward morning. All night I lay
thinking about the galleon and the treasure that it contained. If I only
had a diving-apparatus I could see my way clear. The old man and his
daughter would be all the help I should need. I began to dislike the
idea of leaving the island even temporarily, until I had secured the
treasure. But probably I could not procure a submarine helmet and
diver’s dress, with air-tubes and pump, short of Kingston, Jamaica, or
Havana in Cuba, and possibly not nearer than New York. Ah! the loss of
my diving-apparatus was a vexing misfortune. It might, and probably
would be more than six months before I could get back with these
appliances. This line of cogitation finally brought me around to the
thought that possibly I might be able to make a diving-apparatus myself
which would answer my purpose. Why not? There must be some way to do it.
And why shall I not find that way? I began to think it over by fairly
stating the problem to myself, and before I went to sleep I had
convinced myself that I could make all the needed apparatus except the
air-pump. But this was a device I could see no way to supply. “Never
mind,” thought I, “it will suggest itself as I go along, if I keep my
mind upon it. I will stay and try it.” With this resolve I felt better
contented, and soon dropped to sleep.

At dawn I was up, and immediately took out my boat and went to the buoy.
The wind was light and I had no difficulty in getting fast to it.
Instead of taking up the buoy, as I had at first intended, I merely
shortened the anchor line so that the buoy was held under water about
two feet. I knew that the gourds would remain in this condition for a
long time, and with my sights on shore would enable me to find the
neighborhood, while they would not be likely to be seen by others not
looking for them.

When this was done I sailed back to the creek in time for breakfast,
congratulating myself on the additional peace of mind this act had
brought me. Now nobody would be likely to stumble on the galleon, and I
could give my thoughts to the problem before me.

As I rounded into the creek before the wind, I saw the graceful figure
of Alice Millward, who was coming down from the house to look after her
fire for breakfast. When I came up I found her lamenting that not a
single spark could be found alight, and that the breakfast must needs be
late, or cold. But the sun was already well up above the sea,--at least
an hour and a half high,--and I found no difficulty in procuring a blaze
with the burning-glass, and the fire was soon burning bravely.

I sat down in the shade of the shed, while she busied herself with the
simple cookery, and thought as I looked on, what a beautiful girl this
was, with her clean-cut profile, her floating tendrils of silken, brown
hair, her well rounded form, the graceful poise of her shapely head, the
elastic step, the sweet voice humming bits of song, the cheerful,
musical laugh. She was fair indeed, and more than that I knew she was
pure and true in everything, a lovely and lovable woman. I then and
there confessed to myself that she had become a part of my life. I was
in love, and the strange delight of her presence thrilled my heart with
new emotion. Up to this time my thoughts had been bent solely on getting
a treasure buried in the sea; I now realized that here was a treasure
recovered from the sea, which if I could hope to call it my own, would
far exceed in value all the gold and jewels ever carried by the richest
fleet that ever floated on the Spanish seas. It was all so new and
strange and sudden to me that I was afraid to stay longer near her, lest
I might be obliged to speak to her, and thus betray myself. So I got up
and wandered away to the edge of the forest. But the leaves trembling in
the gentle morning breeze seemed to whisper my secret; the rasping
locust, which had been noisily droning all night long, seemed to play it
in every trill; the birds sang it.

So this was love,--love that makes the world go round; that comes once
at least into each life, and fills it with light and sweetness, or with
gloom and sorrow. When did I begin to love this girl? I could not tell.
Yesterday I did not know it, but it must be that I loved her then as
now; and before that and ever since I had first seen her. And even
before I had seen her had not my heart been waiting for her? But now I
felt that somehow our relations had changed. Could I have again the
sense of comradeship that I had felt toward her? Would she not see a
change in me? I could not analyze this new sensation nor predict what
would happen. A dreadful doubt and uncertainty oppressed my heart
simultaneously with its new-born gladness. Could I hope that this sweet
maid would ever find anything to love in me?

A hot, despairing wave of self-depreciation came over me. I looked at
myself in imagination,--my great hulking frame, my tanned skin, my
bearded face, my long, unkempt hair. Oh, William Morgan, what a poor
fool you are to fall in love with this fair vision of beauty, this
domestic goddess, this Hebe, this sum of grace and loveliness. And then
a tender desire welled up and filled my heart to love and cherish and
protect this helpless waif that had floated in to me from the wild sea.

After a little I plucked a spray of orchids that hung from a half-rotten
limb,--one of those strange, rare flowers that seem rather the dreamy
vagary of a flower painter than a natural production. They were white,
but beautifully marked with spots of rich purple and ribs of golden
yellow. This spray I carried to the house, and gave it to her. Such an
act could have no particular significance, but to my distempered fancy
it seemed a homage paid, a tribute given, a declaration of fealty.

At the breakfast table I broached the subject of the galleon, and
stated that I had almost determined to remain upon the island and to
undertake the recovery of the treasure by aid of such apparatus as could
be made here, provided they were willing to delay their departure a
sufficient time. The truth was that since the last hour my mind was
fully made up to stay if possible, and the presence of Alice Millward
was doubtless a moving cause for that determination. I felt very anxious
that they should both fall in with my plan.

“I think,” said I to the old man, “that if you go on improving as you
have done, you will soon be able yourself to give me the aid I need. And
remember, in that case there will probably be treasure enough for all.
In the mean time, while you are getting well your daughter and I can be
making preparations for the work. There is a great deal to be done. Now
what do you say?”

“But let me know exactly your plan of work,” replied he, “in order that
I may be better able to judge of its feasibility.”

Thereupon I detailed my proposed scheme, so far as it was formulated in
my mind, confessing that I had as yet thought of no practical method of
making an air-pump. “Still,” said I, “there is no doubt in my mind that
some method of supplying that deficiency will occur to me.”

“Well, Mr. Morgan, let me think this over for a little while. There is
no hurry required of me in making up my mind, for I should not like to
leave the island for a week or so anyhow. Give me, say three days; but
during this time there is no reason why you should be idle. If in the
mean time some practicable method of completing the apparatus should
occur to you I am free to say that fact would have great weight in
determining my course of action.”

After breakfast we all went out on the porch and sat down, Duke lying in
the sun at the old man’s feet. We discussed at great length the whole
art and mystery of wrecking and diving, and the apparatus for such work.

In this discussion Alice Millward took an active part. She seemed so
anxious to learn and know all about it that I went over, for her
benefit, all the book knowledge I had pertaining to the subject. While
this was not very extensive, the brief descriptions of apparatus
familiar to me helped us all wonderfully to get a clearer idea of the
problem before us. There was one method of raising sunken vessels about
which I had read somewhere that was specially interesting and
suggestive. This method is to attach to the hull barges partly filled
with water, and pump the water out of the barges little by little, until
by reason of their rise in the water the hull is lifted clear of the
ground. Then barges and hull are towed into shallower water and the
operation is repeated until finally the shore is reached. But this
operation would require diving-apparatus for attaching the hawsers or
ropes to the sunken hulk, and it brought us, therefore, no nearer a
complete solution of the problem.

The talk was interesting and animated, and was kept up until the old man
gave signs of weariness. Finally, in the midst of a discussion as to the
best method of making an air-tube, he dropped to sleep. The practical
benefit which I derived from this conversation was the familiarity
obtained by holding up before the mind all the conditions and
necessities of the problem, in the effort to make others understand
these requirements. It is by steady and continuous thought that all
problems are solved, and the first requisite of every solution is this
very faculty of holding all the conditions without effort
simultaneously in the mind. By continued effort mental process becomes
finally so far a matter of mere habit, in any particular case, that the
mind is left wholly free to act. It is a familiar saying with regard to
mathematics, that a problem clearly stated is already half solved. This
is true with regard to everything depending upon human thought. But
problems are not solved by a mere effort of the will. The mind of man
does not so operate. One must jostle various thoughts about in the
brain, until finally by an unconscious process of selection the fitting
thought is found, and its fitness perceived. One thing suggests another
and that a third, link by link in a continuous chain, until the mind
finally sees in the procession the needed thing, and immediately seizing
upon it ignores all else.

I wanted to be alone that I might, by revolving the riddle over and
over, finally seize the key and unlock it.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE ABANDONED PLANTATION.

Calling Duke I took my lasso and the axe, and started out for a long
tramp to the woods, where I might think undisturbed.

That the walk might not be wholly aimless, I decided to go up the beach
to the north a little way, and then strike over to that part of the
creek which ran down parallel with the beach and follow it up to its
head-waters. Poor Duke thought this was a hunting expedition pure and
simple. His delight was extravagant to witness. For each foot I
travelled he went at least six. Forward and back, ranging to and fro
into every nook and corner, with his sensitive nose investigating
everything, he made the most of his holiday. The gulls were out as
usual, but Duke ignored them completely. Ne had already learned that
this fowl was not game, and as he measured all things by that single
standard, these birds had sunk to a point in his estimation that was
beneath the contempt of a well-bred dog. We routed up an armadillo just
after we crossed the creek, and captured it. Being so near home, I
carried it back and instructed Miss Alice how to bake it in the oven, in
the afternoon, for supper, and filled the oven with wood for her to
light at the proper time. Then telling her I might not return much
before nightfall, I started anew.

After we had crossed the creek again and had walked about a mile, we
came on about a half-dozen pigs on the beach, most probably varying
their diet with a few clams. When they saw us the little herd dashed
across the sands and into the tangled jungle. Following them I found
they had here a beaten path, which showed that this was one of their
regular run-ways. I conjectured that this path would lead to the stream
at some point, and so took advantage of it. In and out it went, well
defined, through the thicket and the jungle; here through dense brakes
of fern, there under great trees, until finally the stream was reached
at a point higher up than I had ever before ascended. All about were
great numbers of calabash trees full of gourds, literally thousands of
them in all stages of growth, some fallen to the ground from
over-ripeness. The inhabitants of this island need never want for such
utensils as could be made of this vegetable product. What greatly
surprised me was the size of the stream at this point. It had not
seemingly diminished either in depth or width, though I had naturally
expected it would be considerably less; for we were over three miles by
its winding course from the mouth.

The path, without the aid of which I could not have penetrated the dense
growth, led along the bank of the stream close to the water. About a
quarter of a mile further on the course of the stream changed, coming
around a bend from the west, straight from the cliffs. I pressed on and
soon found myself in a deep, narrow gorge, the path still running
alongside the stream on a narrow margin of rocky shore, the cliff
towering straight up on either hand. On the top of the rocks, at the
level of the central plateau, was a dense forest, the trees of which,
growing close to the gorge at each side, interlaced in a mass of foliage
above, at times shutting out the sky. I followed the stream along the
path entirely through the central plateau, and came out on the other
side in what I have before spoken of as the north valley.

I was now in a bowl-shaped depression, walled in on the east by the
cliffs of the central plateau, through which I had just come by way of
the stream-cut gorge; on the west by the western rise or ridge which
formed the shore cliffs, and which circled around to the north; and on
the south by the connecting ridge between the plateau and the cliffs.
The stream wound away in lazy curves through the flat bottom, and its
head-waters seemed as far away as ever. To the right hand the sunlit
gleam of water caught my eye at a distance, and I passed through the
bushes until I discovered a narrow cleft in the rocks to the northwest,
through which came a glimpse of the distant sea. There was a park-like
appearance to some portion of this enclosure that was delightful. Across
the middle, east and west, ran a little knoll, which formed the
water-shed. All the water which fed the stream evidently came from the
drainage of the valley south of this knoll. What water drained from the
north slope probably had to find its way to the sea through the distant
cleft.

I followed the stream until the path at its edge faded away to nothing,
and then turned off toward the centre of the valley through the open
grassy glades which were interspersed among the beautiful groves and
clumps of trees. Very soon I came upon decided evidence of the hand of
man. An old orange grove was here, planted regularly in rows; the trees
broad and spreading, and at least fifty years old, were loaded with the
golden, russet-tinted globes. The fruit was sweet and delicious. One
variety, a tree with gnarled branches and mossy trunk, bore literally
thousands of the small, yellow mandarin oranges, with a skin loose and
thin as paper. Here too were rows of red-berried coffee-trees, thorny
limes, and low-growing lemons, with here and there a dark-leafed
grape-fruit. The whole plantation was more or less choked with weeds and
undergrowth, clearly indicating abandonment, perhaps for years.

Near by were the great banner-like leaves of the banana and plantain, in
abundance. This was a most valuable find, and it removed from my mind
all fear of lack of food. Man can live almost upon the plantain alone.
And it has been said that this valuable fruit furnishes food to more
millions than any other vegetable product, not even excepting rice.
Pushing on through the luxuriant growth that cumbered the earth, I came
out finally into a little clearing on the top of the rise and found
before me several low buildings. The weeds that grew all about, choking
the paths and overflowing in all directions, too plainly told the tale
of long desertion and abandonment. There was a principal dwelling-house
of a single story, built of adobes, with a wide veranda; also three
smaller houses at a little distance,--servants’ quarters probably; a
large, low shed about which were scattered great heaps of old bagasse,
or crushed sugar-cane, which indicated a sugar plantation; a
tobacco-curing shed, in which still hung some shreds and fragments of
withered tobacco; and other outhouses. There was an air of desolation
about the place that was most depressing, as I stood waist-deep among
the thrifty growth of weeds in the clear, hot sunshine, looking in
astonishment at the scene.

I opened the front door and went into the house. All was vacancy and
desolation,--dust, cobwebs, stains of water that had leaked in and
pooled in spots upon the floor, dead flies, bugs, and spiders. There was
a broken window-pane in one room, and through the small opening thus
made had entered a great litter of dead leaves, which lay strewn about,
indicating by their number the considerable time that must have elapsed
while one by one they chanced to blow through the narrow opening. I was
glad to get out again into the open air.

Here had been at one time a considerable plantation. Hundreds of acres
had doubtless been under cultivation, and the busy sounds of life had
been heard where now, save for the mournful complaint of a dove cooing
from the orange grove for its mate, all was still.

That this plantation should have been unknown to me all this time seemed
surprising to me at the moment. But in truth, had I not followed up the
course of the creek, it is quite probable I never should have discovered
it; for all about on every hand were rocky walls and dense foliage, both
hiding it from view and rendering it difficult of access. There were
really but two roads to this place from the outer world, one by the way
I had just come, and the other by way of the sea through the distant
cleft above spoken of.

Traces of a broad road led from the buildings toward this cleft, and I
followed it down past the remains of sugar, corn, and tobacco fields,
until I stood on the margin of a deep, rock-walled cove, open on one
side to the valley, where was a rude landing-pier, and on the other by a
narrow gate or passage to the sea. This was the harbor and port of the
old plantation. The cove, though so small, would have floated a
man-of-war, and was almost land-locked, the narrow entrance not being
above thirty feet in width at the water level.

I remembered that when I made the circuit of the island on foot I waded
across the mouth of this cove at low water. There must therefore be a
bar, with barely water enough at low tide to get a boat over; but at
high tide there would probably be twelve or fifteen feet. That I did not
see the wooden pier at that time was due to the fact that the cove took
a bend to the left after entering from the sea. Had the rocks been less
abrupt, I should doubtless have turned in at that time and endeavored to
cross the island here instead of going a mile farther north, beyond the
limits of the valley.

I wandered over the abandoned plantation in all directions for several
hours, but found nothing of special interest except a flock of half-wild
domestic chickens, descendants doubtless of some left by the former
residents here. I gathered a dozen leaves of tobacco, thinking that Mr.
Millward might like to have a cigar. After eating the frugal lunch I had
brought, supplemented with some fruit, I sat down under an orange-tree
and rolled me a cigar of some of the dried leaf, which I lighted with
the burning-glass, and proceeded to enjoy a quiet smoke of the fragrant
tobacco. While I sat thus slowly and placidly cogitating over the means
of reaching the treasure, and varying that line of thought from time to
time with speculations as to the former inhabitants of the island,
suddenly the whole plan which had been floating unformed in my mind took
concrete shape, apparently of its own accord and without effort. The
riddle was read and the problem was solved.

The day had worn away, and the afternoon was half over when I concluded
it was high time to be gone. So I got me a great banana-leaf, gathered a
goodly lot of fruit, taking samples of all, including some of the
coffee-berries, and tying the whole securely in a bundle with the
banana-leaf and some bark strips, started for home, which I safely
reached an hour before sunset.

As I came in sight of the house I saw standing poised on a rock near the
creek the graceful figure of Alice Millward, evidently on the lookout
up the beach to see if the wanderers were coming. I waved my hand, and
she at once jumped down and began to put the supper in readiness. And
when I reached the house I found the table all spread beneath the porch,
and the hot baked armadillo smoking on the board. I untied my great
bundle and spread out before them the supply of oranges, lemons,
plantains, bananas, etc., in a tempting heap.

As soon as Mr. Millward caught sight of the red berries, he cried, “Ah,
delightful! you have found coffee! That was the chief thing your island
lacked, friend Morgan. Now we can have our morning cup of coffee. But
where did you find all this?”

“Come, father, let us have our supper, while it is hot,” interrupted
Alice Millward, “and the fruit will be a dessert for us. And I am sure
while we are at table Mr. Morgan will tell us his adventures, and where
he has been to-day.”

This was too plainly desirable on all hands to be gainsaid, at least so
far as the first part of the proposal was concerned.

Of course I had to go over the whole ground and describe the old,
abandoned plantation as minutely and completely as I could, and to
answer a hundred inquiries about it. The question was raised whether we
had better not go there to live while we remained on the island, but it
was decided that for the present we had better remain where we were, for
several reasons; one reason was the trouble of removal, another the fact
that we would there lose the refreshing sea breeze, and there were
others quite sufficient to determine the matter in favor of staying. But
at any rate we would as soon as possible sail around in the boat to the
plantation cove and make a visit to the plantation. Speculation was
indulged in as to who had lived there, and when and why the place had
been abandoned. The explanation offered by Mr. Millward was quite
satisfactory. He had frequently known of plantations being made on the
outlying islands, and stated that they were always subsequently
abandoned because of the difficulty of reaching a market for the
products, the necessity for frequent voyages in the sloops and small
vessels, and also the difficulty of keeping workmen and assistants long
in such places, except as slaves.

After the supper was over I rolled a dry tobacco-leaf into a couple of
ungainly cigars and handed one to the old man. The pleasure he expressed
at this simple offering was quite extravagant.

“Indeed, young man, you have made here a wonderful find,--quite equal in
every respect to the coffee. This is the true solace and comfort of the
contemplative man. I thank you most sincerely.”

But he would not light the cigar; he had other views of the proper use
to make of it. Drawing from his coat pocket a venerable brown pipe, he
proceeded to break up my cigar and fill the bowl with the fragments.

“Now,” said he when he had finished, “if you will give me a light I will
warm the heart of this old companion, and my own at the same time.”

“Mr. Millward,” said I, after we had the smoking fairly started, “I have
found the way to the treasure in the sunken galleon.”

“Ah, then you have hit upon a plan of making the air-pump. Well, I am in
a mood just now to believe you can do it. Pray let us know about it.”

“No, sir, I have not found any way to build an air-pump. But I have
found, I think, that we shall not need one.”

“But how can you get air to breathe under water unless it is pumped to
you?” said Miss Alice.

“I do not expect to go under water,” said I in reply. And continuing, “I
am inclined to enjoy your perplexity a little, for perplexity is what I
have been enduring myself until a very simple idea occurred to me this
very afternoon. But it is not fair to expect you will understand without
explanation in a moment what another could not understand for months.
The simple fact is this: if I cannot go under water to the ship, why
should I not bring the ship out of water to me? It is the old case, you
see, of the mountain and Mahomet.”

“Yes, I see it is,” said the old man,--“with this difference, that you
propose to have the mountain come to Mahomet.”

Thereupon I laid my whole plan before them, which was briefly this: to
attach to the hulk, one at a time, sinking them under water, enough
empty calabashes to raise it and float it gradually in to shore, where
at low tide it would be above water. The mechanical principle was the
common one belonging to every device which converts speed into power;
as, for example, the lever, the screw, or the inclined plane. Little by
little with slight exertion of power each calabash or gourd could be
pulled down under water to the wreck, and would continue thereafter to
lift as many pounds as were required to pull it down. When this lifting
power was multiplied by enough of the calabashes, the wreck would surely
be raised. It was, after all, only a modification of the method of
raising hulks by sinking and attaching barges partly full of water and
then pumping the water out and causing them to rise and lift the wreck.
In that case the slow application of the power was accomplished by
pumping. In the proposed method it consisted in pulling down the
calabashes one at a time.

Mr. Millward likened the operation to the lifting of an entire building
by the hod carrier who carried a few bricks at a load up the ladder.

“But how will you attach your numerous calabashes to the hull?” said the
old man after a little thought. “It will take a great number.”

“That I will explain to you in detail,” said I, and thereupon set forth
minutely the entire plan of operation. The explanation was satisfactory
to his mind. He at once said to me that he thought the thing feasible,
and was satisfied that it would probably succeed.

What those minute details were and how successfully they were carried
out will appear when we come to the account of the attempt which was
subsequently made.

“Now,” said I, “we have a great quantity of rope to make, some hawsers,
and a huge supply of small rope and cord. To do this will take a long
time, and I have a notion that some sort of a spinning or twisting
machine will be necessary. We must establish a regular rope-walk here in
a small way.”

This immediately led to a long discussion and a consideration of
rope-making machinery in general, at the conclusion of which I thought I
could see a way of making a sort of spinning-machine for twisting
rope-yarn out of the cocoa husks, and also a reel for laying such
strands up into rope. Having worked out the plan in my own mind I
resolved to set about it at once. Mr. Millward had given his hearty
assent to remain on the island long enough to make a full effort to
recover the treasure, and I began now to look forward to a successful
completion of my task.

The full moon that evening was shining over the calm sea out of a clear
sky with a pure silvery radiance, and a cool, gentle breath of air,
scarcely enough to ripple the surface of the sea, fanned our faces as we
three sat looking out upon the water from under the little porch. It was
a lovely night, almost too beautiful to put to such commonplace use as
sleep. In a little while Mr. Millward asked me to push his couch into
the house, as he thought he would retire. After that Alice Millward and
I sat for an hour longer, enjoying the moonlight and talking low so as
not to disturb him.

She told me much about the wandering life she and her father had led; of
the many kind and thoughtful acts of the poor benighted laborers who
formed his audiences; of her own efforts to learn Hindostanee that she
might help him in his work; of the hardships and sorrows of these
people, and of the strange characteristics of the various races, Hindoo,
Chinese, and negro that made up the heterogeneous mass to which her dear
father had undertaken to teach the word of God.

“How do you like the idea, Miss Millward,” said I, “of staying several
months longer on the island?”

“I am delighted,” answered she. “It is pleasant to see my father
improving so rapidly; and the days pass quickly with the work we have to
do. You know I like such housework, and have never had much chance to do
it. Now here I am in sole charge of all the housekeeping arrangements,
nobody to say I must not do this, or must do that. I feel quite as
though I were empress, with none to dispute my sway. Ought I not to be
contented?”

“I am very glad you are contented,” said I, “and hope you may continue
so. For I want to see you happy. Indeed, Miss Millward,” I continued,
with a slight tremor in my voice in spite of myself, “having done myself
the honor to save you from the sea, I feel somehow responsible for your
comfort and welfare, at least, I mean, while you remain on this island,
and until you and your father reach civilization and your friends again.
And even then I shall--I shall not like entirely to lose sight of you.
It gives me pain to think that our ways may then perhaps lie far apart
from each other.”

Now there was a twang of maudlin sentimentality in this, which I
recognized as I spoke the words, and this was magnified and intensified
by the moonlight, and the trembling voice, so that I felt somehow as
though I wanted to knock my head against something hard. I somehow felt
too that she ought in all consistency to laugh at me. But she did not
laugh. And though I could see her clear-cut beautiful profile in the
moonlight, there was no sign of even a smile upon it. God bless me! how
wonderfully pure and sweet she did look that night.

After a short silence I added, “I hope after we leave the island we
shall not become wholly strangers, you and I and your father.”

“Why, Mr. Morgan,” said she, smiling now, and turning her candid eyes to
me, “I thought we had just decided not to leave the island for some
months. I am very sure that we,--my father and I and you can never
become strangers. We must always be the best of friends whatever
happens. It is not so easy to forget a good friend as you seem to
imagine. And you have surely been one to us,--and especially to my poor
father in his helplessness. But the dew is falling fast, and I must now
go in. Good night, my friend, my good friend.”

I sat long after that, alone in the moonlight, with the dew sparkling on
each leaf in silvery lustre, thinking of my new found love, and hoping
and despairing by turns, until the regular and peaceful breathing of the
old man reminded me that I was uselessly dissipating precious hours that
should be devoted to sleep.

CHAPTER XIV.

A REMARKABLE CURE.

As the weather was now so fine, I thought it best to begin the gathering
of calabashes, before going regularly to the work of rope-making. I
should need an immense quantity of these gourds, and they must be as dry
as possible and perfectly sound, or they would be unserviceable for my
purpose. The collection and transportation of these gourds would have
proved an immense task but for a happy thought which occurred to me;
that was to make the stream do the major part of the labor. With this
view I drove a row of stakes across the creek just above where the boats
were moored. These stakes were placed close enough together to catch
every gourd that floated down stream. After this precaution was taken I
went with my axe to the calabash grove and began the work of gathering
the gourds, throwing them into the water of the stream. Soon they were
bobbing along down stream in a steady procession. I worked faithfully at
this for more than half a day, and until I had just time to get home
before supper. When I arrived I found that Alice Millward had been busy
fishing out the floating gourds, and had a huge pile on the sand, and
that the creek was still literally filled with them for several rods
above the row of detaining stakes. In coming home I had followed down
the stream, wading, with a pole to dislodge all that had caught on the
way.

Wet and tired and hungry though I was, I went immediately to work
throwing the gourds out on the bank where they might begin drying and
hardening, and it was long after sunset before I finished this
disagreeable labor. I was very glad to change my wet clothing and to sit
down to the cheerful supper-table which the patient Alice had kept
waiting for me.

“You must have worked very steadily, Mr. Morgan,” said she; “there has
been a constant stream of those great calabashes coming down all the
afternoon.”

“I see that you also were not idle,” said I. “The great heap of gourds I
found taken out must have kept you pretty busy.”

“Oh, indeed, I was very busy, and kept the creek clear for quite a
while,” said she; “but then they began to arrive like a marching army,
and soon overwhelmed me. I suppose you have enough of them collected
now, have you not?”

“No, Miss Millward, perhaps there is half enough. I shall go again
to-morrow.”

“The sight of that immense number of calabashes makes me better able to
realize the magnitude of the task we have undertaken,” remarked the old
gentleman, in a thoughtful tone.

“But that should not trouble us,” I said; “we have plenty of time before
us, and a little done every day makes a great deal. Now I roughly
calculate that we must have a pile of gourds as large as the Spanish
galleon, if you can imagine it lying on the beach; for the floating
capacity of these round gourds in a heap would not represent, owing to
the interstices between the individual gourds, more than half that of a
single, great gourd of the size of the heap. Or to put it in another
way, let us say we want a sufficient number of gourds to hold half the
air that the galleon would hold if empty of water. Such a capacity
would require, I imagine, a pile of gourds as great as the galleon. At
any rate we will offer that for as good a guess as we are able now to
make. I suppose we might estimate the cubical contents of the galleon,
and so determine mathematically with reasonable accuracy just how many
gourds would do the work of lifting it,--that is to say, of equalling
its displacement or sufficiently approaching it. But I think we shall be
near enough with our guess without that trouble.

The next day, starting earlier, I finished collecting the gourds by
noon, and had them all out of the creek before two o’clock in the
afternoon. As the wind was light and favorable, I proposed that we spend
the remainder of the day in a voyage to the plantation, stay there all
night, and return in the morning. This was heartily agreed to, and we
speedily loaded the few things we were likely to need on board the
“Alice,” including an armchair and Mr. Millward’s couch. When all was
ready for the embarkation I carried him down and seated him, well
braced, just aft of the centre-board.

We now hoisted sail and passed out over the bar. As we came into the
neighborhood of the sunken galleon it was just three o’clock by Mr.
Millward’s watch, the sun was shining brightly, and the water was clear.
If I could pick up the submerged buoy I could now with the water-glass
show my companions the wreck. My sight poles on shore were down, and I
could only guess at the locality. However, with Miss Millward standing
on the fore deck keeping a bright lookout for the bunch of submerged
gourds, I cruised about as near as I could guess to the neighborhood. In
a few minutes she caught sight of them, and we were speedily made fast.
We hauled up directly above the wreck and put the glass over the side;
then all, including Mr. Millward, who managed to do so by our joint
assistance, took a good look at the venerable hulk.

As the old man was looking I explained to him, “You see, Mr. Millward,
the ship’s forefoot sticks up a little clear of the sand.”

“Yes, yes, that is true.”

“And you will see that there is plenty of room there to drag the bight
of a hawser well under the keel.”

“Yes, I see.”

“Now look at the stern, and you will notice that it overhangs very much,
and that the rudder has broken away and become detached.”

“Yes, quite true,” said the old man; “and you could easily drag the
bight of your second hawser under the projecting stern.”

“Exactly,” I replied; “and then we shall have the old relic swung
securely from two points, and come up she must if only her old ribs and
bones are strong enough to stand the strain. She must float or break in
two.”

“Mr. Morgan, we must and will succeed,” said the old man, excitedly.
“That craft is to all appearance sound and strong. I have heard that
wood when under water completely does not decay as when exposed to the
air. We shall find her still strong enough to be raised.”

“I trust so and believe so,” I replied.

When the fair Alice came to look at the wonders of the deep through the
glass her delight was extravagant.

“Why,” she cried, “I can see the old cannon all covered with sea-weed.
And what a strange, old-fashioned ship! Two cabins built one on top of
the other, and in front a sort of house. I can even see the doorway in
the cabin, and the funny little windows, and a fish swimming in at one
of them as though he lived there. Shells are growing all over the whole
vessel like lichens on a rock. What a lovely, horrible sight!”

When we had spent an hour at this sight-seeing we cast off from the buoy
and made sail for Plantation Cove, and very soon came abreast of it.
From the sea, except for the break in the beach, the opening into the
cove was scarcely distinguishable in the wall of the cliff, which here
came out in a sort of cape or headland. Just in this headland was the
cleft. I wore round and ran straight in for the mouth of the cove, and
found water enough easily to cross the bar. We glided swiftly through
the rocky gate with the momentum, and floated out on the deep, quiet
waters of the cove, the breeze being entirely cut off by the cliff,
except a faint, uncertain gust now and then, which found its way in as a
draught will sometimes blow down a chimney. There was just enough motion
to carry us alongside the pier, which now at low tide stood high above
us, so high that it would be impossible to get Mr. Millward on shore by
its aid. For this reason I pulled the boat along until her nose was
against the rocky shore at the side of the pier and made her temporarily
fast, while I carried Mr. Millward on shore, and landed his daughter. I
then pulled back to a place where a rude ladder led from the pier down
to the water, and moored the boat securely, head and stern, with
sufficient line so that she might ride safely at all tides, then I
overhauled the sail we had brought along for a tent, carried it ashore
and set it up, built a rousing fire, and gathered a quantity of fern for
bedding. As soon as the fire was started Alice set about warming up a
bean porridge for supper, that we might have it early enough to visit
the plantation before dark.

We hurried through the supper, and then leaving Mr. Millward
comfortably seated in the armchair, I started with Alice for a little
walk up to the rising ground to show her a view of the orange grove and
plantation buildings which could be seen from this side. Along the old
road, a great part of which was overgrown with weeds and straggling
volunteer plants from the various crops that had formerly been
cultivated here: Indian-corn, tall, tasselled sugar-cane, pink-blossomed
tobacco, with great, velvety leaves and up-shooting stalk, an occasional
dried cotton plant with shreds of cotton still clinging to the brown
bolls, yams run wild and growing in broad green bands of fleshy vine
across the path in tropical luxuriance,--these and countless wild weeds
and plants not only filled the fields but trenched upon the road.

Before we reached a point at which the groves and houses could well be
seen Miss Millward had already gathered a great armful of samples to
carry back to the tent that her father might see them. We went along up
the road until we came to the remains of a gate,--two upright stones
roughly resembling pillars, and having iron hinge-pieces let into one of
them. The gate itself had been thrown down at one side. Here we were in
full sight of all the buildings, and of the grove of fruit trees. I left
her here a few moments while I waded through the weeds to gather a bunch
of bananas, some of which were ripe and red. As I came back I saw her
beckon to me to hasten; and I ran as fast as I could, until I reached
her side.

“Listen,” said she, “I thought just now I heard a cry.”

We listened a moment, and then I heard distinctly, from the direction of
the cove, her father’s voice as though calling for help.

“It is father calling us,” she cried, and immediately began running down
the road.

I threw down my bunch of bananas and soon passed her, impeded as she was
with her skirts and the weeds. I plunged through the last heavy growth
of weeds and canes that separated me from a clear view of the tent, and
was thunderstruck to behold a man coming toward us from that direction.
At first I thought of the pearl-fishers, and feared that violence had
perhaps already been done to the helpless Mr. Millward, whose voice we
had just heard calling for assistance. My first impulse was to turn back
and stop Miss Millward, whom I could hear struggling through the weeds
behind me. But in a moment I was still more astonished to recognize in
the approaching figure Mr. Millward himself! I do not believe I should
have been more surprised to have seen a dead man rise and walk. I had
never seen him, you will remember, otherwise than helpless, and my mind
was completely habituated so to regard him. Now here he was, upright and
walking with apparent firmness toward me. I was inexpressibly
astonished, and for the moment quite speechless. I stood there with open
mouth staring at him when Miss Millward came panting through the weeds
to my side.

“Father! oh, father!” she cried, and without a moment’s pause hurried on
as fast as she could to meet him. Collecting my own wits I speedily
followed her. When they met she fell upon the old man’s breast and began
to sob out, “Oh, what is the matter? Oh, why did you call?”

She had evidently forgotten, or failed to comprehend for the moment,
that there was anything surprising in the fact that he was up and
walking about. This oversight was doubtless due to the fact that, unlike
myself, she had been long accustomed to see him walk, and the helpless
condition was the one she was least accustomed to. However, without
endeavoring to analyze our relative feelings of surprise, let us listen
to the curious account given by Mr. Millward of his sudden recovery of
the use of his lower limbs.

“After you had left me,” he said, “I was sitting comfortably in the
armchair looking at you until you disappeared among the vegetation.
Presently I became aware that a little breeze had risen and was driving
the smoke of the fire toward me. This was disagreeable, but as it could
not be helped I quietly endured it, thinking it would not be for long,
and that you would be back soon. But very soon thereafter I found the
dry fern all around me on fire, and fearing I should roast to death I
twice called as loudly as I could, hoping you would hear me in time. The
flames, however, came very fast, my chair caught fire, my hands were
slightly scorched, and I was at the same time smothering with the smoke.
I sprang up and put out the fire with the blanket which you had wrapped
around my limbs. Then finding I could walk, I started to meet you. That
is all. God in his merciful providence has restored me.”

That was all. But it was quite enough. We turned back and walked
together to the tent I could not get used to it. That this man whom I
left helpless in his chair less than half an hour before, should now be
actually standing firm on his feet, and walking about, as though nothing
had been the matter with him, was entirely too much for my practical,
matter-of-fact mind. Mr. Millward evidently noticed my bewildered air,
and laughing said: “Rest easy, Mr. Morgan, I believe this recovery will
be permanent. The excitement of the sudden danger must have roused my
torpid nerves, and did suddenly for me what doubtless would have taken
place a few weeks later in a slower way. Now let us thank God with all
our hearts for this mercy.”

The delight of the daughter, when she realized the pleasant truth was
very touching indeed; she wept, embraced him, and patted him with her
hands, cooing and sobbing and laughing all at once, while the old man in
silence passed his hand gently from time to time over her beautiful
hair.

From the scattered embers I rebuilt the fire, and after the sun went
down, we all three sat in front of it talking over this strange
occurrence. Intervals of silence would now and then fall upon us
unbroken for several minutes. It was very hard indeed to realize the
remarkable change. Perhaps the most curious thing was the effect
produced upon Duke. The dog eyed Mr. Millward with an air of such
ludicrous doubt, edging away from him, and then coming back wagging his
tail to be patted, that we could not refrain from laughing heartily at
his conduct. He resented our merriment with a sheepish,
tail-between-legs air that only made us laugh the more.

Leaving the father and daughter to sleep in the tent, Duke and I went
down to the boat. There, gently rocked by the incoming tide, I slumbered
peacefully through the night until long after dawn, and was then
awakened by the old man’s hand laid gently on my shoulder. It was time
for breakfast, which we made of oranges and plantains, the latter baked
in the hot ashes. Mr. Millward had already been clear to the plantation
buildings and returned with this spoil. He was still weak and feeble.
That after his long inactivity his muscles should have strength enough
for him to walk about at all, was, in truth, matter of surprise, even
not considering the recent paralysis. The possession of so much physical
vigor was doubtless due to the continued and regular rubbing and massage
treatment he had received.

It was thought best, now that we were here with the boat, to collect and
take back with us as much as we could conveniently carry of the produce
of the groves and plantations. One thing Mr. Millward was specially
desirous of getting was a good supply of coffee-berries, which we might
cure in the usual manner by drying them in the shade, and thus finally
get the kernels for use. Oranges would also keep well; and bananas and
plantains would ripen even better in the bunch hung up at home than upon
the tree. So, too, there was needed sweet-potatoes and yams, and a good
supply of tobacco for curing. With shovel and hoe and improvised baskets
made of huge plantain leaves we went to work, digging and gathering and
carrying,--Miss Alice and I doing the chief part of the work, while Mr.
Millward, feeling somewhat feeble and exhausted, was content to stroll
about a little or to rest in the shade. Wandering about among the
outhouses he came across a setting hen on a nest of fifteen eggs, and
brought in hen, nest, and eggs all together, the devoted bird
courageously allowing herself to be captured rather than leave the nest.
This prize we stowed in the cuddy-hole of the boat, shutting her and her
beloved nest in safety together.

I found an old, dilapidated fanning-mill, and a small grindstone mounted
in a frame with a crank to turn it. Anything of this sort I thought
might be useful to me in contriving my rope machinery; so I loaded it on
the boat.

About the middle of the afternoon we got on board, and after sculling
the boat out over the bar set sail for Home Creek, where we arrived
safely about five o’clock. While supper was being made ready I built a
safe coop for the old hen, with sticks driven into the ground, and put
her with her nest into it, giving her corn and a gourd of water, and
left her to hatch her brood if she chose. We were all very tired that
night and went early to bed.

The next day Mr. Millward and I went to work to contrive some sort of
device for spinning the cocoa-husk fibre into rope-yarn. The old
fanning-mill came very handily into play in this job. The fan was geared
to run at a high rate of speed, and by disconnecting the sieves and
shakers and taking off the fan blades, this final piece of shafting
could be made to revolve at a rattling gait by a comparatively slow
motion of the crank, and with very little expenditure of force. We
turned the old machine up on one end and mounted it on stilts to bring
the final or fan shaft into convenient position. Then on the end of the
fan shaft we mounted the spinning device, whittled out of hard wood and
pieces of cane. This consisted primarily of a spool about a foot in
length mounted in a framework so that its axis would be at right angles
to the fan shaft. The revolution of the fan shaft would now cause the
spool to revolve with an end-over-end movement; so that a piece of cord,
if one end were tied or wound upon the spool, would be twisted. The next
thing was to contrive some method for causing the spool to rotate
automatically on its own axis at a slower rate, so as to wind up the
cord as fast as it was twisted by the other motion of the spool at a
high rate of speed.

This movement cost us an almost indescribable amount of the closest and
hardest thought. To complete the machine up to this point took only two
days. Then we stuck fast for a whole week debating the matter and trying
contrivances which would not work, and which, when they came to trial it
seemed as though we should have known would not work, so complete and
humiliating was their failure. Finally we changed the whole structure by
mounting the spool loosely on the end of the fan shaft itself with its
axis coincident with the axis of the shaft, fitting the spool to run by
friction on the shaft, while the frame which led the yarn to the spool
was rigidly fixed on the same shaft. Now the rapid motion of the frame
would do the twisting and the cord would wind only as fast as it was
freely fed, the spool slipping at a commensurate rate on the shaft. This
worked all right with a piece of cord already made; but whether it would
make the yarn out of unformed fibre was a matter to be determined by
trial. This trial we could not make until we had built a feeding-table
on which to pile the mass of fibre, fitted with a tube of cane to guide
the forming yarn to the twister-frame. When this was done the machine
proved satisfactory and did the work it was designed to do rapidly and
well. It required two to work it,--one to turn the crank and thus
furnish the power, and the other to feed up and manipulate the fibre so
that it would be smoothly and properly interwoven with the twisting end
of the forming filament.

The construction of this rude machine took us ten days of hard study and
work. But when it was done we had taken a long step in advance. When we
learned it would work we celebrated the occasion by twisting a spoolful
of yarn, about a hundred yards,--I turning the crank, with the sweat of
honest toil dripping from me, while Mr. Millward fed in the fibre. This
yarn, which was quite firmly spun, we doubled, and allowed it to twist
together upon itself making a stout cord nearly fifty yards in length
and of the size of signal halyard stuff. It was strong and firm, and as
we judged would easily stand a strain of fifty pounds without breaking.
That it was not absolutely smooth and even, was a matter of
comparatively small consequence, the vital thing being strength and
compactness.

To say that we were both delighted with the result of our labors, is
only faintly to express the real condition of mind with which we hailed
it.

Alice Millward had come down to see the trial of the machine, and was a
witness of the making of the first piece of cord, and we all joined
together in the rejoicing.

Now began a period of steady, hard work, manufacturing rope. We first
rigged up the machine under the shed, so that we might have protection
from the sun and the rain, and then set to work, regularly each day,
excepting of course on the sabbath day, during which we always rested
and held divine service at least once. We divided the working day as
follows: from breakfast until nine o’clock we spent gathering husks
enough for the whole day’s work, bringing them to the shed and pounding
up and separating sufficient of the fibre for a run of half an hour.
Promptly at nine o’clock I took the crank and began a steady half-hour’s
grind; then to give my muscles a change we would go again at pounding
and separating fibre for half an hour; then came another half-hour at
the crank, and so on until the blessed hour of noon arrived, when we
would take dinner and rest until one o’clock; then hard at it again,
rain or shine, until five o’clock.

Mr. Millward could sit at his feeding work and was thus able to endure
it; but it was doubtless very hard for him, though he never uttered a
complaint and seemed to thrive on it. My work at the crank was very hard
indeed, and at first when night came every bone and muscle in my whole
body would ache with the strain. As the days went by, however, the work
grew easier and easier day by day, until I felt it no longer as a strain
upon me.

At five o’clock we set to work getting up the necessary fuel and doing
the chores about the house, and such little things as Alice wanted
attended to. Exactly at six o’clock Alice, who carried the watch, would
come out and call us in for supper, to which two tired men were sure to
do justice, especially to the hot coffee which we now had at each meal
in plenty. After supper we generally sat on the porch talking over
various matters of interest. Mr. Millward, who when a younger man had
spent ten years as a missionary in India and South Africa, related many
interesting reminiscences of his life in those strange countries: of
desperate fights with savages in resisting forays; of hunts for game and
encounters with wild beasts; of the rude forms of worship and
superstitions of the African tribes, and the complex religion of the
Hindoos. His memory was wonderfully accurate and stored with countless
incidents, curious, strange, and interesting.

CHAPTER XV.

LOST AND FOUND.

In about two weeks a brood of twelve chickens was hatched out, and the
old hen fastened in the coop made no end of clucking and
feather-ruffling in her anxiety that the fluffy, yellow-feathered little
innocents should come to no harm. They ran in and out between the bars
at pleasure, and very soon made friends with their mistress Alice, who
could, or thought she could, distinctly recognize each of the little
brothers and sisters, and distinguish one from another. In proof of this
she named one after each of the twelve months of the year. By feeding
them every day she soon got the whole brood so that it would come at
call, and some of the chicks would frequently jump into her lap, or eat
from her hand in a perfectly fearless manner. It was pleasant to hear
her talk to her little pets and call them by name. The one she called
April was a feeble little yellow chick, much put upon and driven about
by the others, especially by the stout-legged, fluffy, brown ball named
October, which seemed to be ever on the watch to snatch a bug or worm
from the weakling.

“Now you bad, bad October,” I one time overheard her say, “I shall
certainly have to lock you up, if you do not let April’s bugs alone. You
selfish little creature, you drop a nice, fat worm of your own to snatch
a bitter little bug away from poor April, and when you get it you don’t
like it. Serves you quite right, and April has got your worm and run
away with it, too. Why, December, I do believe you are losing the
beautiful stripes on your back. Come, June; come, September, and you
too, August. There, there,--no fighting; brethren should dwell together
in unity.” Her father called the brood her Sunday-school class, and
remarked with a smile, “Girls are all alike; they must have something to
love and pet, and the more helpless it is the better they like it.”

The work of rope-yarn-making went steadily on day by day, the pile of
the product of our labor growing by slow accretion, until it was a great
heap. This was such very tedious work that you may be sure I kept up a
steady thinking all the while how to lessen and lighten it. I thought of
two schemes before long that would very materially diminish the amount
of rope-yarn required. The first of these schemes to take form in my
mind related to a substitute for the two great hawsers which we had
thought would be required, one to go under the bow and one under the
stern of the sunken galleon. I said nothing about this idea until it was
fully matured in my mind. Then one day as I finished a half-hour’s
grind, with the perspiration streaming from every pore and the breath
about all gone from my body, I said:--

“Mr. Millward, what do you say to quitting for the day? It is now nearly
noon. I feel as though I would like to go fishing.”

He looked at me a moment, and then replied, “I don’t wonder. I feel that
way myself. If you are for a fishing excursion I am with you with all my
heart. ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”

Immediately after dinner we overhauled the fish lines--real ones with
genuine hooks this time, which belonged to Mr. Millward’s stores--and
collecting a supply of whelks, clams, and shrimps for bait, were all
ready for embarking by the time Alice came down to the boat. Just
beyond the bar and the rollers we anchored the boat, and the sport very
soon began by Mr. Millward pulling up a fine red-snapper, and continued
until we had caught half a dozen fine fish. Then they ceased to bite for
a long time, and the cause was made apparent by Miss Alice hauling up a
three-foot spotted shark, which managed to break the line and get away.
But though after that we sat patiently for an hour or two, there were no
more fish to be had. The pirate was cruising about, and honest fish were
not out in that neighborhood.

“Mr. Millward,” said I after a spell of silence, uninterrupted by bites,
“I think we are done making rope, or nearly so at last.”

“Why, we are not half done, according to a liberal estimate,” replied
he, looking up in surprise. “We have barely enough rope for the gourds,
to say nothing of the much greater quantity needed for the two four-inch
hawsers.”

“But,” said I, “suppose we don’t need the hawsers? I have an idea that
it will be much easier to build a framework of beams strong enough to
lift the hulk by, and thus dispense with the hawsers. At any rate even
if it took almost the same amount of work--and it will not--I would
favor a change of labor. The rope-making is getting very monotonous.”

“I most certainly agree with you in that,” he replied; “it does seem an
endless task. But tell me how you propose to construct and attach your
framework.”

Thereupon I laid it out in diagram on the seat of the boat with the
point of my knife, and explained it until both understood the plan. They
were intensely interested. Alice was leaning over with her hand upon my
shoulder looking and listening, and as I felt her breath fan my cheek I
came to a dead stop. The old gentleman looked up from the rude diagram
and said, “Well, go on, go on; I understand it thus far,--what next?”

This seemed to bring the situation to Alice’s mind, for she
instinctively blushed, and gently drew away. My heart beat with a thump
that I could almost hear; but the old man did not seem to notice my
confusion nor the innocent action of the girl. He was bent intently on
understanding the proposed plan which promised to shorten our dreary
yarn-making task, and had no eyes or ears for anything else.

Recovering myself I went on with the explanation of the diagram. I
showed how we might make two triangular frames of heavy beams or spars
firmly joined, how these two frames might be connected together at the
apex of each by a long beam or spar in such manner as to be distant from
each other something less than the length of the galleon; how the
connection between the long beam and the two triangles should be a
flexible or jointed one, so that, as the whole structure, suitably
weighted with stones, was lowered to the galleon the triangles could be
held away, and then allowed to swing in toward the galleon and come
under her head and stern, thus cradling the hulk in a support at each
end which would become more secure when a strain was subsequently put
upon the frame. The calabashes for lifting could be attached to the
horizontal connecting beam and thus a proper distribution of the strain
ensured without trouble. After careful consideration Mr. Millward said
this scheme would do. We then discussed the amount of work required for
the building, conveying and placing of such a framework, as compared
with the work which would be required to make the two large hawsers; and
after mature deliberation decided in favor of the framework, as far the
best and quickest method.

The fishing was over for the time. No more bites, and no prospect of
any. So we pulled up anchor and went in to dress the fish and make
preparation for a grand chowder, to be compounded of yams, fish, red
pepper, and a clove of wild garlic. When this was in the kettle and the
kettle over the fire (we all three took a hand in its preparation) Mr.
Millward and I began to overhaul the rope-yarn, to make an estimate of
how much, if any, more would be needed, in view of the recent change of
plan. It was at this time that I conceived the second scheme. It
occurred to me that a good deal of rope might be spared if we could
enclose each calabash, or bunch of calabashes, in a wicker cage made of
willow branches. I suggested this, and we went at once to the willows
and cut some slender wands, and made such a cage as I had in mind, out
of fine wands and tied with bark. This cage securely enclosed four
calabashes; as the wires of a lantern-guard enclose the globe, and at
the same time afforded a ready means for attaching the rope without
wasting any of its length in loops and bends about the calabashes. This
scheme would save at least one fourth to one third of the amount of rope
needed.

We estimated that four of the large calabashes would lift in the water
as much as the strength of the rope employed would permit, or at least
would be as much as we cared to attempt to pull down at once into the
water. The trees that furnished the wands were plentiful along the lower
part of the creek, and there would be no lack of osiers. I have spoken
of these trees as being “willows;” but, in truth, I believe they were
some species of water-loving oleander. They were, however, quite like
willow in appearance and growth, and furnished abundance of long,
slender branches, pliable and strong, with a bark that easily came off
and was itself quite strong enough to tie the joints with. I believe
this tree is a better one for basket-makers’ use than the common osier
willow, though I do not know if it is ever used for that purpose.

It was with heartfelt satisfaction that we could now believe that enough
rope was made, and that the daily monotonous grind which had been going
on for weeks was at last over. Nor was the basket-work in caging the
gourds likely to be of a trying character, as it was light, easy work,
in which we could all engage at any time, rain or shine, and enliven
with talk.

The very day after this Mr. Millward and I began to cut the osiers. We
tied them in bundles of a hundred or more, and put them into the water
to keep from drying out until used. When we had quite a large stock on
hand we began each evening after supper to make the cages, enclosing
four of the gourds, now quite dry and hard, in each cage.

In the mean time, as regular work for each day, we began the
construction of the framework. For this we needed seven great spars,
which had to be cut on the upland from a species of pine which grew
there, trimmed to the required shape on the ground, and from thence got
down to the sea.

We selected the trees as near the creek as possible, and by means of
levers rolled them into the water, which was barely deep enough to float
such great sticks. The labor was a great deal for two men to accomplish,
one being old and feeble. It took us every working day for three weeks
to get these timbers down to the mouth of the creek. But it was finally
done, and then commenced the framing together of the two triangles and
their attachment to the beam. This we did with ties of strong inch and
a half rope in several turns. At last, the complete structure lay
floating in the creek ready to be towed out to the galleon.

While we were at work getting out the timbers on the upland it happened
nearly every day that Alice Millward would either go with us in the
morning or come out at noon bringing a lunch to us of hot baked yams and
bacon, and so go home with us at night; or when I had wet work in the
creek, following down a launched timber, she would return with her
father in advance. We always went to this work quite early in the
morning and returned home at least four hours before sunset, as the
cage-making work demanded some of our time. On rainy days we did not go
out at all, but kept busy with the basket-work.

One day it happened that at noon when we expected Alice with the lunch,
she did not come promptly as usual, and after waiting nearly an hour
over time, we both became quite anxious to know why she did not arrive.
I told Mr. Millward to wait where he was, to receive her if she came,
while I went back to the house with Duke to see if she was there.
Hurrying along, the dog and I arrived in a little over half an hour at
the house, going by the shortest cut and as rapidly as possible, running
indeed part of the way where the nature of the ground permitted. As I
had greatly feared, she was not there. Nothing indicated any
disturbance; everything was as we had left it in the morning, and I
concluded at once that she had started to come to us with the lunch, and
had either lost her way in the dense growth, or had received some hurt
on the road. The obvious thing to do under such circumstances was to
follow up the regular path which we customarily took, and which in my
haste to reach the house I had not pursued on my return, and to look for
traces of her on the way.

When I came to a little glade where the candleberries grew plentifully I
noted a place where I thought it possible for her to have mistaken the
path. Two conspicuous bushes, separated from each other by a distance of
perhaps five rods and covered with vivid scarlet blossoms in great
masses, were on the opposite side of the glade. The way ran to the right
hand side of the right hand bush. Now if she had taken a course to the
right hand of the left hand bush, she would be travelling quite thirty
degrees away from the true direction. This was brought to my mind by the
circumstance that several times Miss Millward had come with these red
blossoms in her hand, or decorated with them in hat or dress, probably
gathered each time from the bush by the side of the route. I went over
at once to the left hand bush, and found that a branch had been freshly
broken off. It was probable, therefore, that here was the place of
divergence from the true route. Without paying much attention at the
moment, Miss Millward had doubtless been misled by this false guide, and
in passing had broken off a branch of the flowers as usual.

That this surmise was correct was evidenced a few paces further along by
fresh leaves and twigs of the bush which she had thrown down after
securing the coveted blossoms from the branch; and finally by the branch
itself partly denuded of its blossoms. But beyond this I could find no
trace. Perhaps a skilled woodsman or tracker could have easily followed
the trail that no doubt existed, plainly enough marked for those who
could read it; but unfortunately I knew not how to read the subtle
indications that are said to be so plain to those versed in that sort of
writing. I then tried to start the dog on the trail by leading him to a
point where I knew by inference it existed. But either he did not
choose to take up the scent, was unable to do so, or did not understand
what I desired of him. At any rate he made no effort to follow the
trail.

I then endeavored to reason out the probable course the girl had taken,
by trying to conceive myself misled in the same manner. Suppose I had
diverged thirty degrees unconsciously to the left of the route, when
should I discover the error and what would be my course when I did
discover it? By this method of imaginative analysis I was able to follow
with reasonable certainty her probable course through the forest for
about forty rods, which brought me to a dense jungle all interwoven with
thorny bamboo and utterly impassable. There was nothing at all like this
on the true route, and at this point, if not before, and most probably
at this exact place Alice Millward must have become conscious that she
had lost her way. Now the thing for me to determine was, what did she
next do? Most probably, finding herself lost, she at once sought to
retrace her steps until she could arrive at some familiar place from
which to take a fresh departure. If she had gone back to the glade she
would have found the blossoming bushes and probably from thence have
been able to get a correct start. It was fair to infer, therefore, that
she must have missed the glade, passing it either on the right hand or
the left. But if she had passed it on the right hand the angle of such a
course would have speedily brought her out into the open ground from
which the sea and the beach, and possibly the house and shed were
visible, and she would have had no difficulty in getting home. Therefore
the inference was justifiable that in endeavoring to retrace her steps,
the girl had veered to the left hand; this would lead her to the heavy
timber that lines the creek in that direction.

As soon as I had reached this conclusion, I started immediately to tell
her father of the situation. I soon reached him and found him very
anxiously waiting my coming. I told him briefly where I thought she was
now probably wandering, and my reasons for the conjecture. It
considerably eased his mind to be able to think she was merely lost.

It was decided that he should return to the house at once and await me
there, or after getting there come back up the creek to meet us, if I
should find her.

Without delay I started for the thick woods where I hoped to find the
girl. As soon as I was well into the heavy timber I began to shout at
intervals every few minutes, and then listen for a reply; but none came,
and I wandered in and about the forest in this manner for several hours,
shouting until I was so hoarse that I could scarcely be heard ten rods
away. Finally, when it was almost dark, I found her far up the creek,
and almost to the cleft or chasm through which I had passed on the day I
discovered the plantation. She was on the bank of the creek and coming
down toward me through the tangled undergrowth. I tried to call, but was
so hoarse from the long continued shouting that I was not heard, and so
she did not see me until we were quite near each other.

“Oh, Mr. Morgan,” she cried, with a voice full of tears, “I am so glad
to find you!” Instinctively I put my arm around her and took her hand in
mine.

“Let us hurry on,” she resumed, “and find poor dear father, he must have
been so anxious about me.”

I told her he was waiting near the creek, or at the house for us and we
would soon be there, as it was not over an hour’s walk.

She was softly crying to herself, and apparently much shaken. She clung
to my hand as though fearful of losing her guide. We walked on in the
rapidly gathering dusk, and she became gradually more quiet and assured,
so that she soon began to talk freely of her adventure. It seemed that
she had only just found the creek, and though, as she said, it seemed to
run in the wrong direction entirely, she had reasoned that if followed
down it would finally bring her home. She had just about determined to
go into the water and wade down the stream itself if the tangled growth
became too thick on the banks, as it seemed quite likely would happen
soon, and as, indeed, was the case a little way on. I fancied the
distress of mind and body that this would have caused in the darkness
now fast coming on, and my heart grew soft and tender. I told her then
of the way I came to find the route she had most probably taken, the
incident of the red blossoms, and all the course of reasoning by which I
was led in the search.

She then took out of her dress the bunch of blossoms, and said, “Then it
is to these flowers I owe this meeting?”

“Yes,” said I, “to the gathering of those red blossoms. Don’t you think
I have earned them as a reward?”

Without a word she handed me the bunch, glowing red as the sunset tints
which yet marked the sky.

Somehow I felt, as we stumbled along the darkening way, her hand clasped
in mine as it rested on my arm, that our hearts had come nearer together
than I had ever dared before to hope might be the case, and my own heart
was filled with a wild, new-born hope. She seemed to be mine as I lifted
her over the fallen logs, and helped her past the rocks and obstacles.
It very quickly grew quite dark, and it was no easy matter under such
circumstances to keep the right course, so that we could not talk even
if either of us had felt a desire to do so. In silence we struggled
along, until finally we came out into the open. The sea with its
wonderful self-light was plainly visible before us, and the ceaseless
murmur of the surf as it came to our ears was a most welcome sound. A
bright fire built by her father to guide us shone like a beacon before
us, reddening the palm-trees near the house. Soon we could see him
standing near it on the watch. And in a few minutes she was clasped in
his arms.

CHAPTER XVI.

A BAD PORT.

When the lifting-frame was complete, there was no reason why it should
not at once be floated out and secured in place at the sunken hulk as
soon as possible, and as the weather was very fine at that particular
time, and the water clear, we concluded to do it immediately. We took
both boats, Mr. Millward and Alice in his boat, and I alone in the
“Mohawk.” With a line from the floating frame to each boat we towed it
along so easily and rapidly that in a couple of hours we were over the
wreck. We anchored the two boats one at the bow and one at the stern of
the galleon, and pulling the floating frame between the two, fastened it
safely by a line at each end to the boat anchors. The next task was to
get some heavy rocks with which to sink it, and attach them to the frame
in such manner that when the latter was down in position to engage the
wreck bow and stern, the rocks could be released to permit the frame to
rise by its own power of flotation. It would then, we thought, be secure
against displacement, as there was evidently very little, if any,
movement of the water at the depth the galleon lay. Leaving the frame
attached to the anchor-lines we went to the north cape with the boats,
and loaded on twelve stones of considerable weight, which we carried out
and secured to the frame by slip-knots in such manner that by a pull
from above on a rope each might be released.

When the stones were attached we found that ten of them were just enough
to sink the frame slowly. By means of a couple of ropes, one at each
end of the frame, paid out from the two boats by Mr. Millward and me, we
guided the contrivance in its descent until it landed exactly in place.
Alice Millward with the water-glass watched the frame, and indicated to
us how to manipulate the ropes. Thus she would call out, “Slowly, Mr.
Morgan, a little more forward; a little more aft, father; now you are
going right,” until it was in proper position. We then pulled the ropes
attached to the stones, releasing the slip-knots two at a time to keep
the balance properly, and when relieved of this weight the frame floated
up, enclosing and grasping the wreck at each end. This part of the work
was therefore successfully and easily completed.

The frame was in position, and it now only remained to attach the
calabashes, one cage of them at a time, and we hoped the galleon would
be lifted. In preparation for this work,--which we would not be ready to
undertake for some time, or until all the calabashes were caged and
fitted with attaching ropes,--we had, before sinking the frame-work,
passed over the spar that connected the two triangles the bight of an
endless rope, for use as a down-haul with which the calabash cages might
be pulled down. This endless down-haul line we proposed to hitch to a
buoy when we left, so that it might be supported within reach until
wanted.

Being very anxious to test the working of my plan for pulling down and
attaching the calabashes, I had brought along a single cage of them for
the purpose of trying the experiment of pulling it down and attaching it
to the longitudinal spar. This scheme was a very simple one, and I
sincerely hoped it would prove successful, as it had given me
considerable study in its contrivance, and was, I thought, the best and
easiest way to accomplish the result. The following description will
make it clear. To the cage holding the calabashes was attached a rope
four feet long. On the free end of this attaching rope was a hook made
of a stout forked branch. Secured to the endless down-haul rope was a
similar hook. By catching these hooks together, the cage could be pulled
down until the two hooks passed under the spar and came up on the other
side. Now by crossing the down-haul rope the hook on the attaching rope,
I thought, could be made to hook over that part of its own rope which
was on the other side of the spar. Then by reversing the pull on the
down-haul its hook would be released and the calabash cage be left
attached to the spar by the stout rope passing around the spar and
hooked to itself.

The experiment, to our great delight, was entirely successful and
satisfactory; and when we had fixed the down-haul rope securely to a
buoy we set sail and returned feeling highly encouraged at the outlook
for our labors.

As this business of pulling down and affixing the calabashes was likely
to be a long and tedious job, to be successfully prosecuted only in good
weather, we determined to begin it as soon as we could get a sufficient
number of cages ready for a start; and thus we could work in suitable
weather at the wreck attaching the cages, and in unsuitable weather at
home in preparing them for attachment. It would be only at the very last
that we need watch for the wreck to rise, and prepare for towing her in
to shore. Until enough calabashes to float her had been sent down, such
as were attached would of course be simply anchored to the wreck.

It was oppressively warm that evening after we had returned home, and we
all brought our chairs down to the shed to better enjoy the slight
breeze which breathed in from the sea. We sat thus, watching the
breakers roll in through the dim light, and crash on the sand with a
long, running sound that passed from left to right along the beach, slow
but regular as heart-beats in their constant reiteration. Mr. Millward
was seated at a little distance from Alice and me enjoying his pipe, the
fire in the bowl of which shone at intervals with a red glow, as though
in rhythmic sympathy with the sound of the surf. The stars were bright
and sprinkled all over the clear, dark sky, which was lit now and then
by the long, fiery thread of a meteor ruled rapidly across the azure
dome, and lingering as an impression on the retina long enough so that
by turning the eye away the line of fire was transported to another
quarter,--fading out, however, too fast for us to locate it distinctly.

It was a peaceful, quiet summer night, and we sat silent, enjoying
together the restfulness of it. I looked at the dim outlines of Alice as
she sat by my side leaning her cheek upon one hand, and my heart was
filled with conscious depths of love and tenderness; then past her at
the shadowy figure of the old man and the intermittent glow of his pipe.
A great peace seemed to possess my soul, a wonderful content of spirit,
and I said to myself, “This is the peace of pure content and happiness.”
Often since have I recalled that night, and felt that man, born to
trouble and sorrow on this earth,--beautiful though it be,--can hope for
no greater bliss than such hours afford him. Happy hours come not at
call, nor often, nor long remain. Satisfied ambition brings them not,
nor gratified pride, nor gathered wealth; but they come only when there
is united this trinity of conditions: rest from labor done, the healthy
body, the presence of those we love. When these three things are united,
the peaceful, happy hour will come. And when this sweet angel of peace
shall hover over you, drive it not away, my friend, by taking troubled
thought of the morrow, nor by grieving over the past, nor regretting
opportunities missed. Enjoy it in contented silence while you may, and
with little thought of past or future.

An unusually brilliant meteor shot in a long diagonal line from the
zenith nearly to the horizon, and there burst in a ball of fire like a
rocket. Alice laid her hand on my arm as though to call my attention,
but without a word. The touch was light; the little hand remained but a
moment on my arm, and was then as gently withdrawn. But, light and
momentary, it thrilled me through and through; the angel of peace took
instant flight, and thought came back with a rush. The restless fear
that we might be parted; that she could never love me; the instinctive
wish to know with certainty her heart; a thousand contending emotions
stirred me. With all my will I strove to calm myself and still the wild
beating of my heart. What strange power was this which the girl had
acquired over me, that a mere touch of her hand sufficed to banish
quiet, fill my brain with teeming fancies and my breast with longing and
unrest? The quiet stars still shone as before, the surf still fell in
measured cadence, the gentle, rustling breeze still fanned my cheek with
its soft, cool breath; but peace and quiet and rest had departed. My
soul was fevered, and anxiety preyed once more upon my heart.

The night-blooming cereus had unfolded its waxen, white flowers, and the
warm air was laden with its strange, sweet perfume mingling with the
fragrance of the dew-moistened foliage. Now there stole up out of the
verge of the sea the thin, pale crescent of the young moon, a mere
rounded line of silver tilted back as though reclining in its new
feebleness, and giving but little more light than the brilliant lamp of
Venus that hung, a point of corruscating splendor, near it.

Again, as the silver horn emerged from the dim horizon line, I felt the
soft touch of her hand upon my arm, and in low tones she said, “Is it
not beautiful?”

For answer I took the hand in mine. Cool and soft it felt to my fevered
grasp. She withdrew it not, but, passive, let it lie for a few minutes.
Some say that souls while still embodied do and can communicate with
each other in some occult and mysterious way. If that be true, then
surely my soul must then and there have greeted Alice Millward’s.

Mr. Millward, who had once or twice nodded over his pipe, now rose and
knocking out the ashes reminded us that it was time to go to bed; and he
and Alice retired to the house. As I had no fancy to be shut up in-doors
on such a night, I brought my hammock down to the shed and swung it
there where the sound of the sea would lull me to sleep, while the
breeze fanned by with its cool breath.

The next morning we went diligently to work caging the calabashes in
sets of four, rigging each cage with its short attaching rope and hook.
The hooks I cut with axe and knife from the bushes of the nearest
jungle. The work was congenial and light. Under the shed we arranged
some tussocks of dried grass so that we could be seated low down; and
thus ranged in a sociable triangle we worked, chatted, laughed, and
joked; the old gentleman revived his experiences of former years; and
altogether it was a very pleasant time. Whenever the weather was
favorable we would load the completed cages of calabashes on board Mr.
Millward’s boat, and all three of us would sail to the galleon and sink
and attach them one at a time, in the manner already indicated.

Little by little the great pile of calabashes near the shed diminished
until it was nearly gone. We had attached literally thousands of the
gourds to the framework which grasped the wreck, until now when we
looked through the water-glass the hull was no longer visible, by reason
of the mass of caged gourds sunk far under water, each one of course
pulling upwards to the full extent of its buoyancy. Still we kept on. I
began to think that I should have to make another trip to the calabash
trees. But it was not to be so.

One morning we arrived at the galleon with a huge load in both boats
which we had got ready during the two preceding days. We had not pulled
half of them down when I felt the hauling-line slacken in my hand. Now I
had fully expected this very thing sometime to take place; but when it
did occur I thought for the moment that the line had frayed and parted,
and did not realize that the hull was rising. Then as suddenly I
understood, and shouted to Mr. Millward to cast off his boat from the
buoy, as the wreck was rising, and suiting the action to the word did
the same for my boat. We had no sooner cast loose than slowly the gourds
lifted their heads in a confused mass to the surface, rattling and
knocking together in the swell. The water all about became dark with
ooze and sand and fragments of weed stirred up from the ocean’s bed. I
felt sure that the old hull was floating beneath in the frame, because,
though I could not see it on account of the condition of the water, I
knew that had the framework let go, its beams would have floated up and
would now be in view among the floating gourds.

At the sight Mr. Millward jumped upon the gunwale of his little schooner
and waving his hat began a cheer, in which we all joined. The old hulk
floated at last! Its long rest was broken and a new voyage begun.

By a piece of sheer good-luck it so happened that the tide was coming in
and nearly at the flood, the swell was setting to the land, and moreover
the little breeze there was came from the right quarter to drift the
wreck in to the point of rocks. Everything was favorable to success in
beaching the galleon there.

In the greatest imaginable excitement we hastened to get the
hauling-line on board the schooner, and securing both boats to it made
all sail and endeavored thus to help the old hulk along by towing. It
was sluggish business. The boats would rise and fall with the swell and
lean down to the breeze, then come up, the sails empty, and then down
again, and so on. But we moved, and in the right direction, though
slowly, very slowly at first, and then a little faster as the rattling
mass of gourds and the heavy load beneath it got fairly under way.

I never saw Mr. Millward so wrought up with excitement as at this time.
And indeed we were all in something of the same condition. For here was
the result of long labor culminating before our eyes. Small wonder,
then, that there should be much hilarity. The galleon was afloat, and
our ship was coming in! Halfway to the beach Mr. Millward, in a sweet
and powerful voice, rolled out that good old hymn, “We are going home,”
and back from the rocks came the echo of the last word, “to-morrow.” We
all joined heartily in the chorus, with the best of good-will.

In about an hour, and as near as could be at high tide the Spanish
galleon grounded between two rocks on a sandy bottom just at the north
cape of the island, and we beached my boat near by in a sheltered place
to the southwest of the cape. The other boat we sailed down to the
creek, got something to eat, put the axe and some other things on board,
and came back to the cape, where we anchored to await the falling of the
tide.

As we sat in the boat lifted by the swell, and watched each wave wash
through between the rocks where lay the galleon, I began to realize that
Mr. Millward’s spirited song about “going home to-morrow” was not very
likely to come true for a good many to-morrows. There was a regular
tide-way through this passage, and I began to doubt whether the sea had
not played us a sad trick in bringing the galleon to such a port.

That the situation of affairs may be better understood, it will be
necessary to describe precisely the lay of the land. The two rocks were
separated from each other by a narrow passage about thirty feet in width
at the end where the galleon entered, and narrowed to perhaps ten feet
at the other end in a length of a hundred and fifty feet. Through this
passage the swell washed with great force. Indeed, the galleon and its
supporting mass of gourds had been carried in on the heave of the swell
and the hull dropped there with a crash on the bottom. The frame-work
and cages had been at once torn loose, and the spars and gourds lay
jammed in the narrow exit beyond, the water churned to foam by the
obstruction they offered, dashing continually against them and tearing
them one by one loose from one another until the sea all beyond was
littered with the fragments.

Even as we watched, this débris little by little washed out and away.
The hull of the galleon, it is true, lying on the bottom and well under
water where at high tide it was full five and twenty feet in depth,
would suffer no such damage probably in the present state of the
weather. But on the other hand the fall of the tide would most likely
not be great enough to leave her above water, and there was no telling
what might happen if a gale of wind should come along, especially with a
low tide. Indeed I speedily made up my mind that there was not only
going to be great danger of the wreck breaking up and getting away from
us entirely by washing piecemeal out through the exit into the sea, but
also, if this dire misfortune should be long delayed, that we should not
be able to get at the cargo for the racing of the water, even when at
its lowest. I must confess that when this fully dawned on me I felt
greatly discouraged.

At last after a weary wait the tide reached its lowest, and as I feared,
we found that we dared not go into the race-way with the boat. Each
swell swept through it with a great rush, breaking into foam in the
narrower part, so that a boat would have been dashed to pieces unless
fortunate enough to swim fairly out through the exit, and would then be
extremely liable to be overwhelmed. We drew up to the rock which lay
adjoining the beach and landed, so that we might look down on the
galleon from above. There she lay with the deck just awash at the
water’s surface, except when a green sea came whelming through, and then
she was buried to the depth of several feet. The old hulk was a most
venerable and curious sight; shells of various kinds grown fast all over
her ancient deck and sides; long streamers of sea-weed floating from her
like hair; coral branches, sand, ooze, mud,--a thousand reminiscences of
her long sleep on the bottom were now plainly observable in the light of
day.

We all three stood looking down upon this curious sight in silence,
which was finally broken by Mr. Millward, saying,--

“I am afraid we are as far away from the treasure that lies in that old
ship as we were before we raised her.”

I did not feel like talking about it, and therefore said nothing, but
stood with hands in pockets looking at this exhibition of what I
regarded as the perversity of inanimate matter. That the bewitched old
galleon should have run her nose exactly into this place of all others,
when there were miles of fair sloping beach on which she might have
stranded, seemed like a deadly stab in the back by a treacherous adverse
fate. It was enough to make a man swear, if that would have done any
good. And possibly it might have eased my feelings temporarily if I had
possessed talent enough in that direction to have done full justice to
the subject.

This would have been a good time to give up the whole project,--to wash
my hands of all Spanish galleons in general and this perverse one in
particular. But I must say that no such thought entered my mind. I was
disgusted, and very much disappointed, and not a little angry; but as
for giving up, that was simply impossible. The situation stunned me, and
there seemed no way out of it; but I could not entertain the thought
that the recovery of the treasure was impossible.

Alice Millward came up and drew me away by the arm. “Do not look so
downcast,” said she. “Surely we need not grieve over this failure. If we
cannot get the treasure we are no worse off than we were yesterday.”

“But you do not know,” said I, fiercely, “what it means to me. I have
been working to save my birthplace.”

“Never mind, never mind, Mr. Morgan,” replied she, gently, “let us go
home to the house now and think it all over there, where the hateful
thing will be out of sight.”

“We can do no more here and we might as well be starting,” added the old
man. Between them they led me to the boat, the old man saying various
things about not putting your trust in things of this earth; that riches
are not enduring; and other like remarks, all of which fell on my ear
without at all penetrating to my understanding. To tell the truth, I
was utterly dazed and unable to give the thing any sort of consecutive
thought.

We made the run quickly to Home Creek, and all went early to bed, a most
disheartened lot of mortals. Contrary to my expectation, I soon fell
asleep and slept soundly all night long.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE WAVES IN HARNESS.

When a carefully concocted plan carried out industriously and faithfully
results in a total failure to achieve the end sought, the consequences
are disastrous in more ways than one. There is first the loss of all the
labor, which is important; and secondly, and far more important, there
is also inevitably a loss of confidence in one’s own power to achieve
success.

I went to my hammock under the shed that night humiliated to the last
degree, with a sense of utter contempt for my own judgment,--in short,
in a sneering mood, criticising the folly I had displayed in not
foreseeing events and making due provision for them. In a rank spirit of
self-criticism and self-condemnation I reviewed what I had done, and
what I had left undone, and deliberately pronounced myself a stupid ass
for all my pains. Nevertheless, as before stated I went very quickly to
sleep, and slept the traditional sleep of the just until after dawn.

When I awakened, the new risen sun hung bathed in fleecy clouds of
primrose just above a sea all golden and flashing with his level beams;
the dew gemmed each blade and leaf; the cool morning air trembled gently
among the glistening foliage; the birds sang in noisy chorus far and
near; everything was fresh and rested and hopeful and fair and
encouraging.

I felt braced and full of confidence and hope; all the worry and trouble
of the night had rolled away and gone. Never say die! There is no such
thing as fail. The only question now is, what shall we do next? How
shall we protect the wreck where it lies, and overcome the obstacles
that have risen in our path? I went whistling a jolly tune down to the
bathing-place in the creek, took a cool plunge in the clear water, and
returned light-hearted, confident, and happy, to rouse my companions,
that they also might feel the inspiring effect of the beautiful morning.
I wanted somebody to talk with, to discuss the hundred half-formed
projects with which my brain already teemed. I wanted to get to work
again on some new line, and felt that no moment should be lost. I went
to the door and called them; then built a fire and put the kettle on for
coffee.

When Alice Millward came down to the fire, radiant in the beauty of
health and freshness, her cheek flushed, her beautiful eyes sparkling,
and a rebellious tendril of silken hair trembling over her brow in the
breath of the morning, I so looked my admiration that she instinctively
blushed. I turned away, busying myself with the fire. Somehow I could
not help whistling snatches of the merry air that had been running in my
head all the morning.

She caught my eye presently and said in a tone of full conviction, “Mr.
Morgan, you have found some way of getting that treasure. I know you
have by your manner this morning.”

“You are mistaken, Miss Millward. I only wish you were not. The fact is
I have only just found that it is possible to begin again calmly to
think and plan. But that discovery is quite enough to cheer one. It is a
good deal to have recovered from the stunning disappointment of
yesterday, and to have regained composure and confidence; for that is
equivalent to regaining one’s faculties. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she answered, with a little air of thoughtfulness,
“but I really do not know; for to speak the truth I do not think I felt
the disappointment so severely as either you or father. Of course I was
sorry, but then you see I was not so deeply interested, perhaps, as you
two were.”

Mr. Millward now came up, and after the usual morning greeting said, “I
imagine it will now be in order to begin to think of getting back to
civilization. Our labors here seem to have come to naught.”

“No,” said I with some heat, “I shall not leave until I find it utterly
impossible to explore that sunken hull. I could not rest comfortably
elsewhere so long as a bit of hope was left. Of course,” I added, after
a moment’s pause, “I cannot ask you to remain. But I do hope you will
consent to stay a few days longer. We ought to protect the wreck from
destruction in some way before the next gale. And I think it can be
done.”

“But how?” said he.

“Ah, that is the question, that is the problem,” I replied. “If we could
build a breakwater across the mouth of the chasm in some manner the hull
would lie safely where it is. We could then leave, and come back with
divers to get the treasure at a later time.”

“To stand the shock of the waves which will dash through that place in a
gale of wind from the right quarter, your breakwater will require to be
a powerful structure. And the building of it would be an engineering
feat of no small magnitude, I take it.” And the old man shook his head
slowly, as though to say he did not believe it possible.

Even as he was talking, however, the half-formed plan which had been
floating hazily through my mind took definite shape. The chasm, the
rocks, the swell and waves racing through were all so pictured in my
mind that there was no need to go again and look at the place, because
it was then before me in imagination as vividly as though I actually
beheld it. The remedy for the danger was clear and plain to my mind. I
went up to my two companions and taking a hand of each, said as
earnestly as I felt: “We can do it. I see how it can be done. It is, I
now believe, a piece of rare good luck that the old galleon drifted into
that place. For consider; if she had struck upon the open beach she
would inevitably have gone to pieces in the breakers, and who knows
whether what of her cargo we want would have washed up to dry land. I
tell you now, and believe me it is true, fortune has favored us.”

“But the breakwater,” said the old man, impatiently, “how can we
construct such a thing?”

“Very well,” said I, with a smile and an air of mystery, “you shall
know; but as the coffee boils, let us have breakfast, and we will
discuss it over our coffee.”

“I am quite agreed to that,” replied he, “but fear it will need to be
helped out by all the aid the good coffee can give it, my boy. However,
I am open to conviction. You have done wonders in getting the wreck
where she is, and I hope you may be right in your belief that the berth
is a lucky one.”

When we were fairly seated, the corn bread broken, and the steaming hot
coffee poured out by the hand of Alice, the old man nodded at me as much
as to say, “Now fire away.”

Alice voiced the same request in words, saying: “Now give us your great
plan, Mr. Morgan. I am sure it will be a success. How will you construct
the breakwater?”

“My dear Miss Alice, I expect to induce the sea to do that work for me
in the most part. I shall harness the wild waves of ocean to my dirt
cart, and make them labor to protect the old hull they would delight to
destroy.” And I calmly filled my mouth with corn bread, while Mr.
Millward looked at me as though he feared I had become demented by the
recent disappointment. There was silence for a moment or two. Then,
looking furtively at me, he said:--

“But I do not understand how you expect to harness your steeds, even if
such unruly creatures were willing to work for us.”

“Still, you will confess it is very simple,” I said, oracularly. “We
have only to offer these waves work they always delight in doing, and
you may be sure they will work day and night, high tide and low tide, to
get it done, and when it is accomplished they will sigh and moan and
crash and roar for more. That is the ceaseless, persistent disposition
they have, and the harder the wind and the bigger the waves the quicker
will the work be done. My plan is simply this: to get the waves to work
throwing up sand to fill that chasm and bury the wreck if necessary in
sand. If it is buried we can easily dig it out. But we need not wait for
the entire chasm to be filled. It will be enough if the mouth and exit
passage are filled. Look out at yonder beach and see the unruly breakers
at their daily task of throwing up tons and tons of sand, and as
constantly dragging it back again that they may have more of their
delightful occupation. You have only to throw down a rock, or a branch,
or some obstacle to retain the sand and hold it from being dragged back,
and it will presently be buried beneath the heap which it has retained.”

“I see what you mean,” said Mr. Millward, setting down his cup of
coffee, which he had held in his hand, “but I do not yet understand how
you propose to prevent the constant scour that is going on in that
race-way. You must first stop that scouring action, and then I agree
that the place in time will fill with sand.”

Then I proceeded in detail to explain how by cutting down trees and
throwing them into the mouth of the chasm I hoped first to get the tops
buried in the sand, and then by adding brush and branches to create
finally a bar of sand at this point, which could be constantly added to
by more tree tops and branches and the sand cast up, until it was as
high as the waves could reach. Near by grew mangrove trees in a little
lagoon. These would answer our purpose as well as any; they could be
felled into the water and floated to place.

All excitement and full of hope, now that a feasible plan had presented
itself, we discussed the matter in all its bearings, until Mr. Millward,
rising, declared we must waste no more time, but go to work while the
weather held good. There was, indeed, no time to lose, as a northeast
gale meant destruction to the old hulk, if it should occur before the
guard could be built.

At once we loaded into the boat blankets and a sail for shelter, and
provisions for several days, including five great calabashes of water,
intending to camp at the point so as to be near our work while the
present danger should continue. By nine o’clock we were out of the creek
and under way, and soon reached the place where we intended to land. We
moored the boat in safety under shelter of the rocks to the west of the
point, where she would be safe except in case of a severe storm; then we
put up the sail that we had brought for a tent, and landed such things
as were wanted there, putting Alice as usual in control as housekeeper.

The long spar which we had used to connect the two triangles of our
lifting-frame, we found beached to the west of the rocks, and torn loose
from the triangles, which had washed away and disappeared. It was Mr.
Millward’s suggestion that we could utilize this piece of timber to good
advantage by cutting it to the right length, and wedging it across the
mouth of the chasm at about the height of low water, for the butts of
the trees forming the abattis to rest upon. To get this spar into the
water and tow it around to the mouth of the chasm was the first job we
undertook. For this purpose we used my boat, the “Mohawk,” as being the
lightest to row. By dinner time (about one o’clock) we had the spar
sawed off and dropped down between the rocks, where it wedged itself, as
the wall was slanting at each side. To secure it more firmly in place we
resorted to the expedient of tying a great stone on the end of a line
and dropping it down on the spar several times at each end, standing for
this purpose on the rocks above. We kept up this pile-driving operation
until the spar began to splinter slightly. It now lay across the mouth
of the chasm at about a foot above low water, so firmly wedged in place
that no wave could displace it, unless it should be powerful enough to
break the great, tough beam in twain, which was not very likely.

After dinner we took my boat into the small lagoon on the west coast
near the north point, and began the other branch of our work by cutting
down a couple of trees which stood near deep water, and grew in the
water itself on branching roots uprising in a complicated maze. These
trees, one at a time and by dint of hard work, we towed out into the sea
and brought round to the mouth of the chasm. Here we manœuvred until we
got the butt end pointed at the spar, and then let go at the right
moment so that the swell as it entered the chasm swept the tree bodily
into the exact place we wanted it to go, the butt lying on the wedged-in
spar, and the top presented to the waves. To weight the top down and
make it sink we threw into the branches several heavy rocks. When in
place the tree lay at an angle of about forty-five degrees with the
horizon, the butt resting on the spar, and the branches on the bottom.

I had some fear that the shock of the tree striking against the spar
might dislodge the latter; but it had no effect of that kind, the spar
being much too tightly wedged. Moreover the chasm, as I have already
stated, narrowed gradually from the mouth inward as well as from the top
downward. So the blows of the waves only served still further to tighten
the spar in place. We managed to get the two trees in place and weighted
with rocks before we were called to supper at sunset. We had made a fair
start, and accomplished a good day’s work. The supper, spread on the
ground and eaten by firelight, was a merry meal, though we were very
tired and glad to get to sleep. We needed a strong rope that had been
left at Home Creek, and I concluded to walk there along the beach after
supper, and sleeping at home to return at early dawn with the rope
before breakfast. So I bade my companions good-night and started down
the beach. The way was easy, and I reached the house in little over an
hour and turned in immediately to secure a much needed rest.

When I returned with the rope in the morning, as I came near the tent
and while it was still hidden from view by the intervening foliage, I
heard the voices of father and daughter joined in a hymn,--the clear,
rich soprano of the girl, flute-like and full, mingling in harmony with
the noble baritone of the old man, whose voice was still unbroken by
age. I paused a moment to listen to the wonderful song of praise, in
which were mingled the deep booming bass of the surf, the myriad voices
of the birds trilling an accompaniment, and the interwoven notes of the
hymn, rising and falling together in sweet accord,--and my own heart was
lifted up to the great Creator to whom such praise, I thought, might
prove quite as acceptable as though sung by a full-voiced choir beneath
cathedral arches to the accompaniment of the majestic chords of an
organ.

When the strains of the hymn had ceased I came up, and the hearty
greeting which I received was very pleasant. Indeed, the friendly sense
of comradeship had become very strong among us all; and I have no doubt
they were as glad to see me after this short absence as I truly was to
see them.

After breakfast Mr. Millward and I began again at an early hour the work
of filling, towing, placing, and weighting the trees. This day we placed
five in position. The next day we brought and placed five more, by which
time the entire mouth of the chasm was so full of the trunks, branches,
and twigs that we could get no more in place. The fourth day of our
labors we spent in casting loose rocks in among the branches. The fifth
day we passed in watching this _chevaux de frise_ and noting the effect
of the waves, as they came frothing through the mass of twigs and
branches. The structure--if such it may be called--held firmly and broke
the swell completely.

We could do no more. The remainder of the work must be accomplished by
the waves themselves in their own time and way. For this we must wait
their pleasure. There was still quite a strong current through the
chasm, and I wished very much that this could be lessened, as its
tendency was of course to carry through a large portion of the sand
which might otherwise be retained. When I spoke of this to Mr. Millward
he immediately proposed that we should partly fill the narrow exit
passage with rocks and limbs to check this current, and on the sixth day
we began this job. Instead of floating whole trees, which we could not
have managed to get into place without the aid of an ingoing swell, we
cut and carried limbs and branches, which, together with rocks, were
thrown down from above, until the end of the exit passage was a frothing
mass of water struggling through the tangle. This very much lessened the
current, and we were well satisfied with the work. That evening we
sailed the two boats back to Home Creek and moored them in their former
haven. The next day, which was the Sabbath, we spent in rest at home,
leaving the waves now to do their work, and confident that no harm could
come to the hulk if the fair weather would continue for a few days
longer.

In the morning, while we were seated beneath the shed, Mr. Millward read
selections from the Psalms, in his deep, sonorous voice and impressive
manner. We joined afterward in prayer and hymn, and when this simple
service was over I started with Alice for a walk on the beach to the
south, while Mr. Millward composed himself for a comfortable smoke in
the shade. The walking on the sand just above the reach of the waves,
and yet where it was wet by an occasional toppling roller that came
spuming up the slope farther than its fellows, was excellent, for the
wetted sand was hard and firm and cool to the feet. Everywhere lay
fragments of sea-weed, shells, and the curious forms of sea life cast up
by the waves. We amused ourselves by collecting specimens of the
many-tinted weeds, mosses, and fragile structures, whether vegetable or
animal I know not, nor could any save a naturalist draw the dividing
line. Alice explained how these delicate forms could be spread out and
dried, by first floating them in water until they were untangled, and
then lifting them out by a plate of glass and drying them on paper.

“I look forward now,” said she, “to the time when we shall be sailing
away from our island home, and I would like to carry with me something
by which to remember this beautiful beach.”

“Are you getting tired of the life, Miss Millward?”

“Ah, no,” she quickly answered, “not tired of it; far from that. It
seems now quite like a home to me. You must remember that it is many
years since father and I have remained so long in one place as we have
been here. I have grown quite to love this beautiful island. And the
work and the life is a real pleasure to me. But yet I fear that father
is pining to be back to his work, or to civilization, though he has not
yet said so in my hearing. It is hard, you know, for an old man to
change his habits.”

“I suppose you would find it pleasanter if you had some one of your own
sex as a companion,” said I.

“Perhaps so,” thoughtfully, “but I have never had any girl friends, you
know, in all my life; for we have been here in this region, among the
islands, since I was quite a child, and have gone about from place to
place so much that I have had no chance to meet such friends as I might
feel like making my companions. The people are mostly of quite another
religion from ours,--those who are white I mean,--and though I have many
friends among the colored people, the Hindoos and others, the friendship
has not made me any comrades. Father has often said that he feared it
was his duty to send me north among people of my own kind, that I might
learn better what life in this world really means. But I think I do
know, for it must be much the same everywhere; and I should not like to
leave father here alone.”

The thought of the wandering life which this motherless girl had led,
among poor, half-heathen people, touched me, and I had it on my tongue
to contrast such an existence with the very different sort of
surroundings she might have had elsewhere. But why should I do this?
Even if she could understand it, which was doubtful, no good could come
of creating in her mind longing and discontent; though I honestly
believe discontent never could have found entrance to such a candid and
happy mind, no matter what might be held up for her imagination to
consider.

The sun soon beat down with fiery rays, and I cut for her a leaf of fan
palm to form a sort of parasol. The picture she made in her light dress,
against the blue sea all filled with glowing brightness, the shade of
the graceful leaf falling upon her, will live long in my memory. It
seemed to me that her pure soul shone out from the beautiful eyes that
now and again met mine. Rare combination of something that seemed
straight from heaven with what was sweetly human and of our earth; the
clear, pure spirit, and the beautiful woman glowing with health and
filled with life and color and made for human love--was there ever
before, whispered my tortured heart, such an incomparable being? Dare I
speak to her of what fills my mind and soul? No; most certainly not.

Now in point of fact I was making love to this girl with all my might,
and did not know it. I wooed her all unconsciously, and had not dared to
woo her at all. The divine passion, I have since been told, needs no
word or sign; and this girl, divinely pure and yet sweetly human,
inexperienced as she was, must have felt that I adored her. If she had
never heard of the love of man for woman--and most likely she had never
given it a thought--still she must have known my devotion to her quite
as well as though the burning words that ever kept throbbing up from my
heart for utterance had passed my lips. But I could not know. And so I
alternated between the medium plane of faint hope and the cold depths
of despair. I conclude, as I now look back, that I was not doing so
badly as I then thought.

We sat down on a rock together to watch the little hermit crabs, each
with a stolen shell that it had converted into a house, now peering out,
now drawing itself in, now dragging its house along the sand in search
of food or a better location,--funny little creatures, that seem to link
the spider family to the crabs. Her hand was on my arm; we sat close
together; the curved, flat edges of the spent waves nearly reached our
feet as they stole up the sand; the solemn sound of the sea was in our
ears, and the enchanting song of a first love filled my heart.

And then we wandered slowly on along the beach, now and then compelled
by a higher flow to step aside; we examined the lovely shells that lay
in numbers and great variety bleaching on the margin of the dry sand, or
wetted by the rising water; the little skipping sand borers; now and
again a gaping clam or hideous sea slug; dry shells of the great
horse-shoe crabs; bladder-weed and ocean tangle; and all the wonderful
débris that the sea casts up. Then turning in toward the land we came
among the tall, graceful stems of the cocoa-palm, their feathery heads
trembling and rustling in the gently stirring air. Here we found in a
low shrub the little nest of one of those diminutive wagtail wrens, and
while the anxious mother fluttered near, feigning a wound or inability
to fly in order to draw us away from her precious little ones, we looked
at the four tiny, gaping-mouthed children clad in down and naked
helplessness, until the distress of the comical little matron induced us
to move away from the nest in pity.

We found too the purple passion-flower and gaudy cactus blossoms
bursting out in showy splendor from thorn-armed, fleshy leaves,
bright-feathered parrots and parroquets, a little humming-bird that bore
a flashing jewel in his breast and made a misty halo round about him
with his rapid wing, beating the air so fast that it seemed to the eye a
faint sphere of cloud.

And so we wandered on side by side, talking of what we saw. I parted the
thorny bushes for her path, lifted her over the rocks and logs, and hand
in hand we crossed the grassy open where I had gathered seeds, now ripe
again, and thus came finally home, as the sun stood in the zenith.

We found the old man sleeping peacefully in my hammock under the shed,
with Bible in hand lying open on his breast. Duke lay on the ground
below him, furtively opening an eye now and then, though without
stirring when we came up. On the fire, now burned nearly out, slowly
steamed and simmered the dinner stew, whose appetizing odors floating to
us apprised us of the fact that we were very hungry, just as the cool
shade told us we were very warm, and the inviting armchairs suggested
that we were really tired.

CHAPTER XVIII.

EMBAYED.

When I arose shortly after dawn the next morning, it was with no small
degree of satisfaction that I found the sun brightly shining, and every
indication present of a continuance of the fair weather and gentle
breezes which had now held continuously for ten days. Very anxious to
know the condition of the breakwater, Mr. Millward and I, shortly after
a hearty breakfast of fish freshly caught, started for a walk up the
beach to the resting-place of the galleon. We found no apparent change
in the condition of the larger breakwater,--the one across the mouth of
the chasm,--but strangely enough the smaller one, across the exit
passage, had so far silted up with sand as to form an almost complete
obstruction to the flow of a current through the chasm at low water.
Indeed, the sand had almost buried the branches we had cast in, and was
risen so far as to be plainly visible just below the surface of the
water. This was an altogether unexpected result, and it now looked very
much as though the silting and filling was to take place from the exit
backward to the mouth, instead of from the mouth as we had calculated.
However, it mattered not to us how the capricious waves chose to do
their work, if only it were done.

We had brought the axe along, and without delay we began to cut and pile
into the exit passage more limbs and branches and rocks, until the place
was full to a level somewhat above high-tide mark. To facilitate
further the formation of this bank, we cast many branches into the
waters of the chasm just back of the newly formed sand-bar, that it
might be caused if possible to rise high enough to prevent any through
current and consequent scouring action even at high tide.

We tried hard to ascertain whether the sand had begun to accumulate at
the breakwater across the mouth; but were unable to do so because of the
lack of transparency of the water, which held in suspension a large
percentage of sand and foreign matter stirred up by the swell. We both
expressed our confidence that as soon as the current through the chasm
was stopped, the sand would begin to silt in and fill up the main
breakwater.

It was two hours after noon when we returned to the house again. After
dinner we all three turned to the work of digging sweet potatoes in my
old garden, and storing them under the shed. All the crops were doing
finely and we found some green Indian corn just ripe enough to boil. In
the cool of the evening we sat under the shed to watch for the new moon
to rise, discussing the theory and probable action of sand deposit by
waves.

Mr. Millward’s theory--and I believe it to be the correct one--was that
the sand was held in suspension only while the water was in very
considerable motion; and that it fell to the bottom almost instantly
when the motion of the water ceased. He likened it to stirring sugar,
not yet dissolved, in a glass of water. As soon as the stirring stopped
the sugar fell to the bottom. “Thus, for example,” he explained, “when a
wave comes up on the beach in front of us, it is more or less charged
with sand; the sand is deposited just when the wave has spent its force
and paused before the return flow. But, of course, the sand so deposited
on the naked beach would be picked up again and carried back, to be
again brought up, and so on in ceaseless round.” And the reason, he
insisted, why the sand gathered at the last breakwater in the chasm
instead of at the first one, was simply because at that place the
current and consequent motion were least.

Each morning I walked up the beach to the chasm, sometimes alone and
sometimes accompanied by Mr. Millward. In two days the breakwater at the
exit was completely covered with sand, which rose above the level of
high tide, and the sand had already begun to silt into the chasm back of
the exit. On the third day we found a great shark embayed in the chasm
and dashing around the old hull every little while, as though in a
flurry of excitement. Each time a wave would break in he would endeavor
to swim out, following the retreating water,--for now there was no
longer a current through,--but the trees and limbs prevented him. Mr.
Millward said he seemed like an evil spirit set to guard the galleon and
its treasure; and indeed it would have been a dangerous thing for any
one to attempt exploration of the wreck while this man-eating sentinel
patrolled the narrow water where she lay.

The sight of this voracious fish reminded me very forcibly of the great
danger which would have attended any attempt to reach the hull by diving
when the galleon lay out in the sea. Had I brought my diving-apparatus
safely to the island, as I originally intended to do, it is quite
possible, and even probable, that I should have found a grave among the
gastric fluids of some such shark. Strangely enough, in all the many
times I had looked at the wreck through the water-glass while it lay out
in the sea, I had never seen a single shark, though other fish had been
visible in considerable numbers and variety. But doubtless, as is the
treacherous nature of this tiger of the sea, he was lying there
concealed and instinctively watching the boat in expectation of prey. It
made me shudder involuntarily to think of the possible encounter that I
might have had. As the shark imprisoned in the chasm was no present
inconvenience to us, we allowed him to remain undisturbed where he was.

As we stood on the rock which adjoined the shore, watching the frothing
of the surges through the breakwater at the mouth of the chasm, I
pointed out to Mr. Millward that every few minutes, at intervals of
about every third wave, the water rushing back met the incoming wave
exactly at the breakwater and the resulting interference produced there
a temporary quiet in the waters.

“Now,” said I, in reference to this fact, “if your theory is right we
ought to be getting a discharge of sand at the breakwater every time
there is such a meeting of the waters there.”

“Of course,” said he, “there is no doubt of it; and we shall soon be
having a bar at this point. Whether this bar will rise high enough to
stop the water materially from coming in before the whole chasm has
silted full of sand is something we cannot determine except by waiting
to find out by actual test.”

“Nor does it greatly matter,” I added, “for in either event the galleon
would be safely housed.”

The weather held fair for a week longer, and at the end of that time it
had become quite evident that a bank of sand was steadily forming at the
mouth of the chasm. It was already nearly up to the surface at low
water, so that the inrush of water was very small compared with what it
had been. We had gone up to the chasm in the morning as usual, and then
again in the evening of the same day, as the weather was very
threatening and the heat intense, and a glassy calm was on the sea,
which, almost devoid even of a swell, spread out in a flat,
metallic-looking plain with scarcely a wrinkle. A storm was surely
brewing, and we might expect it that night or the following day at
latest. But as there was nothing to do, except to wait its arrival and
abide the result, I only went to the chasm to satisfy my curiosity. When
I arrived, an hour or two before sunset, and examined the place
carefully, I thought the galleon would probably be safe, unless the
surge became so heavy as to sweep the breakwater out on its return flow.
Mr. Millward was of the same opinion.

About midnight that night I was wakened by a tremendous crash of
thunder. The sky was black with heavy clouds, lit up at short intervals
by the lightning, and it had already begun to rain. Owing to the heat, I
had been sleeping in my hammock at the shed. I immediately got up,
partly dressed myself, and carried my hammock to the house, where I
found my companions both wakened by the thunder. I called Duke in and
secured the door, expecting a heavy rain, which speedily came down with
a rush and steady roar upon the thatched roof. The wind followed from
the old quarter, the northeast, and soon became almost a gale, beating
and driving the rain against the walls in angry gusts.

Mr. Millward and I, talking through the darkness, speculated on the
probable result to the galleon; but being unable, of course, to reach
any satisfactory conclusion, we dropped finally to sleep, thus
forgetting our worry and anxiety.

In the morning, after a cold breakfast, without coffee,--for the fire
was out, everything in the way of fuel was wet, and there was no sun
visible,--I started for the chasm. Breasting the stiff gale, which was
accompanied by spits and dashes of rain, I made my way along the beach,
full of apprehension as I saw the huge rollers come crashing in, and the
heavy swell that had been raised by the gale. When I came to the north
cape, and the rocks forming the chasm were in sight, the scene was
indeed one of grandeur, and my worst fears seemed to have good grounds.
The tremendous swell running in against the rocks broke with a
thunderous noise; the spray flew high in the air, and was blown
apparently clear over the rocks.

I had hurried along thus far as rapidly as I could travel against the
strong wind; but now I hesitated, dreading to go far enough to see what
had happened to the galleon. However, no good could come of waiting, so
I plunged ahead and soon came to the rock which joined the shore, and
ascended it that I might have a fair view of the chasm. I found that the
chasm no longer existed as we had known it. Instead of an open race-way
through which the current rushed, or into which the rollers broke, there
was now a peaceful little pool, in the midst of which the galleon was
dimly visible, sunk some feet below the surface. The water in this pool
was not very clear; for every few minutes a mighty shower of spray flung
on high fell like rain upon its surface, and the rocks all about were
drenched, and covered with little rivulets. Even the spot where I stood
was not exempt, but I took the wetting with cheerful fortitude under the
circumstances. Both breakwaters were completely covered with sand. The
one at the mouth was almost like a sand-hill, and reached nearly to the
stem of the galleon, but was so drenched by the falling spray that I did
not care to go upon it. The one at the rear, or exit, was far enough
away so that the spray did not fall upon it to any great extent, and I
therefore climbed down upon it to see how firm it was. I was very
certain no one seeing this bank of sand would have imagined how it had
been made. There was no indication whatever that the hand of man had had
anything to do with its construction. It looked quite as though the sand
had lain there for ages. The waves had done their work most thoroughly,
and the aged hulk now rested in a quiet, land-locked harbor, as safe and
secure from the sea as though it were in a dry dock.

Wet through by rain and spray combined, but elated and in the highest of
spirits at the condition of our work, I hastened back as fast as my feet
would carry me, helped on by the wind now at my back, to convey the
joyful intelligence to my companions. Duke, who had accompanied me,
seemed to read my satisfaction in my face and actions, for he bounded
along frisking and barking as though the whole thing were a grand
frolic. When I came to the creek he had already run on ahead to the
house, so that Mr. Millward and Alice were apprised of my return, and
were at the door looking for me as I came up to the house.

“What news do you bring?” asked the old man, anxiously.

“The best of good news,” cried I, “the very best of good news! The
galleon is safely and snugly at rest in a basin where a tornado could
not reach it.”

“Well, that is good!” said the old man, fervently.

“Excellent!” echoed the daughter, and added, solicitously, “but you are
very wet, Mr. Morgan, and you must change your garments at once. It will
never do to have the courier who brings such good tidings take harm by
his journey.”

After I had gone into my little sleeping-place and put on dry clothing,
we sat down, and I had to describe minutely what I had seen. We then
went into general committee to discuss ways and means for getting at the
cargo of the sunken hull. Mr. Millward was for setting sail at the first
favorable wind for Martinique to get divers and return with them. But I
could not bring myself to agree to leaving the galleon to chance for so
long a time as that might require. We had already successfully overcome
so many difficulties that those remaining seemed trifling in comparison;
though I am free to confess that just how we were to get at the contents
of the hull was not at all clear to my mind at that time.

We had discussed the situation a long time, and as I had nothing to
offer but mere resistance and unwillingness to leave, I felt that the
old gentleman was gradually getting the better of the discussion, and
had fairly driven me to the last ditch, when Alice came to my assistance
with a suggestion that supplied a new stock of ammunition to my
retreating forces.

The dear girl’s suggestion was in these words, “Why don’t you pump the
water out of the basin and leave the galleon dry?”

Why, indeed? What was to hinder? It would be difficult to make an
air-pump, but not at all difficult to contrive some sort of
water-raising device.

“Thanks, fair Alice, for the idea. It rehabilitates me,” thought I; and
meeting her eyes I added aloud, “You have hit upon the very idea, Miss
Alice. We can get the water out of that basin with far less trouble than
a voyage to Martinique and return would cost.”

The old man was silent.

Turning to him I said, “Your daughter deserves our warmest thanks, Mr.
Millward, for this suggestion. Now we have only to contrive some
water-lifting device, and we can set to work on the final task. What do
you say?”

“I say that if it is feasible I will stay of course.”

We discussed all the water-raising contrivances we had ever heard of,
from the primitive Egyptian shadoof--a bucket on a balanced pole--to the
rotary steam-pump. But steam-pumps were not to be had, and it was
aggravating to think about them. However, I went conscientiously through
the entire list, and was listened to most patiently. It chanced that
among other devices there was one I had heard of as being used in India
by the natives to raise water for irrigation. It consisted of a wheel to
which were suspended a number of gourds. Mr. Millward at once remembered
seeing these very machines in use, and told how he had witnessed the
breech-clouted coolies toiling with them on the banks of the rivers. He
immediately agreed that we could easily build such a machine, and that
it would accomplish the work.

“The amount of water raised in a day from the river with one of these
rude machines and poured into the irrigating canal by the efforts of a
single native workman is truly astonishing,” said he. After thinking a
moment he added, “But you overlook one thing, Mr. Morgan. These machines
are only adapted to lifting water from a river or other source of supply
which remains at or near a constant level. Now, here the water to be
lifted will be getting constantly lower, and as it falls the wheel also
must be lowered and would soon be so low that it would no longer bring
the gourds high enough to discharge their contents above the breakwater.
You see that, do you not?”

In truth, I had not seen it at all. But when the difficulty was thus
suggested it was plain enough that such a wheel would never do for what
we wanted. I did not answer this most pertinent suggestion, for the
very good reason that it could not be controverted. The wheel idea was
quite out of the question.

After a little while he resumed by saying, “But I have also seen a
modification of the same sort of machine, in which the gourds were
attached to an endless rope instead of to the wheel itself. This device
is used by the same people where the water is to be raised to a greater
height than can conveniently be done with the wheel. I think we might
possibly make such a modification work successfully.”

“Can you recall how this modification was constructed?” said I,
anxiously.

“Perhaps I can recall enough to enable you to get the idea,” he replied,
throwing back his head and closing his eyes in the effort to remember.
“Yes,” said he, after a little reflection, “I think I can. I remember
the general features very well indeed. However, the most vivid
recollection I have, connected with these machines, is the hideous,
creaking screech of their ungreased axles as they were turned hour after
hour all through the hot summer nights, the natives ‘spelling’ one
another at the work. How well I remember the dry, hot nights when I lay
listening to these sounds from far and near. You could easily tell when
the laboring coolie was tired by the gradual slowing of his machine and
the lengthening of the interval between screeches. Then a fresh man
mounted the treadmill and the screeches quickened; and so these
monotonous alternations continued through the still night.”

After a few reminiscences of his old life in India the old man proceeded
to give a description of the machine as nearly as he could recall it. It
consisted of a drum, or skeleton wheel, about six feet in diameter,
mounted on a platform over the water; each end of the drum overhung the
platform and carried an endless rope, to which open-mouthed gourds were
tied at regular intervals. The drum was revolved by stepping on its bars
as in a treadmill. The gourds were carried down into the water empty and
brought up full by the endless rope. Troughs at each side received the
water as the gourds tipped to return. In short, it was a sort of
chain-pump, or modification of that well-known device. From his
description, aided by my own imagination and a full knowledge of the
result sought, I was able to reconstruct in my mind this machine, or at
least to see how one could be built that I conceived would answer the
purpose. We agreed that we would start at this work as soon as the
weather was pleasant enough to be out of doors with reasonable comfort.

It was very tedious to be without any fire or means of obtaining one
during the rain. The house was getting damp; we missed our hot coffee;
cold victuals were not pleasant, and our supply of cooked food was about
gone, so that if the rain continued we should speedily be reduced to raw
bacon and cocoanuts. As the leaden sky gave no immediate promise of
sunshine, Mr. Millward and I concluded to try our hand at producing fire
by friction. For this purpose we attached a piece of hard wood to the
final shaft of the old fanning-mill, and setting it in rapid motion held
a piece of soft wood against it as it revolved. I turned the crank while
he held the wood. It presently began to char and smoke, but no fire
came, though I ground away until the sweat poured off my body. We were
about to give it up as a bad job, when Mr. Millward hit upon the idea of
rasping off a quantity of fine wood-dust by grinding a piece of wood on
the end of the iron shaft itself. When he had collected some of this
and sprinkled it into the hot, smoking cavity of the softwood stick the
motion soon caused the light material to catch fire, and we were
speedily rewarded with a glowing coal from which we were able to start
the fire, which you may be certain was not permitted to go out again. I
very quickly had a hot fire in the oven, one near the shed out of doors,
and a third in the fireplace of the house. With fire, life became
speedily more endurable.

The comforting and cheering influence of an open fire, the sight of the
blaze or the glowing coals, is a mysterious thing, and is not to be
explained by the mere personal comfort due to the warmth, for a close
stove or a steam coil will give that as well and perhaps better and more
equably. There is an instinctive something deep down in the heart of man
that responds to the open fire, and makes it act like a tonic on the
disposition. This feeling is common apparently to all mankind. Everybody
alike, old or young, rich or poor, is cheered by the glow and blaze of
the fireside, the crackle of the burning, the sight of the flames on the
hearth. Men who have been brought up from childhood to live in houses
heated by the modern steam, hot-water, or hot-air apparatus, or have
lived in the tropics where fires for warmth are rarely if ever needed,
no sooner approach the blazing hearth than they feel its cheering
influence. I have thought sometimes that the explanation might be found
in heredity,--in a deep-seated habit of the human mind descending from
parent to child through countless ages and generations. Far back of
history, in the dim twilight of primitive life, we may imagine our
ancestors living in such wildness as can scarcely be found on earth
to-day even among the lowest savages; and we can picture the primitive
hunter returning exhausted from the chase to seek his rest and comfort
by the open fireside. By the fireside he rests, by the fireside he
eats, here he meets his family, here in his nakedness he is warm, here
are all his joys and loves and comforts. Every pleasure and every
comfort are directly associated with the sight of the glowing embers and
the bright, leaping blaze. And this has been going on through thousands
and thousands of years. When Nature so impresses their habits upon her
creatures that the dog, ages after it has become domesticated, will yet
run round and round before lying down on a carpet, because its wild
ancestors did so in order to flatten the tall grass in which they slept,
is it too much to believe that man should have kept the habit of
associating comfort with the sight of an open fireside?

Whatever may be the true explanation, the fact was that the glowing fire
in the chimney cheered our hearts, and made us merry, as we sat laughing
and talking and joking, and listening to the old man’s tales that night;
and this pure delight was not in any wise lessened by the moaning of the
wind and the intermittent dash of the rain upon the walls and roof. We
three and Duke, in a sociable semi-circle lighted only by the flickering
rays of the fire, enjoyed the shelter, the homelike sense of comfort,
and the quiet of perfect content that night, and it seemed to all, I
doubt not, as it did to me, a pity that the hour of bedtime should come
around to break up so pleasant a party.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE PEARL-FISHERS.

For two days longer the rain continued, and then with a gentle southerly
breeze the sky cleared and the sun came out again, lighting up once more
the land and sea and releasing us from the confinement indoors, which
had begun to grow irksome. Of course the first thing to be done was for
all three of us to be ferried over the creek and to walk up the beach to
the galleon. The two sand-banks were now dry and the water in the basin
was quite clear and transparent, so that the hull was plainly visible,
the raised poop and forecastle being only about three or four feet under
the surface. All her masts and spars had fallen and disappeared long
ago. A cluster of corals seemed to indicate where the foremast once had
stood. A curious thing was the appearance of a single pane of glass
which was visible in the side of the cabin. This pane had changed its
transparent quality to a milky condition of pearly irridescence, and
shone under water like a gem as it caught and reflected the light from
above.

This vessel never could have been noted for speed, I thought, as the
hull appeared to be a regular tub, with high bows and stern, a great
breadth of beam, and a low mid-deck or waist where lay the green remains
of what had once been four brass carronades. When sailing close-hauled
she probably went to leeward faster than she drew ahead. Doubtless such
was the ancient fashion of ships, and it accounts for the fact that the
old voyagers were sometime wind-bound, until the green moss and weeds
grew plentiful on their hulls, and the water and provisions gave out,
and the dreadful scurvy came to sweep away half the crew. I could
picture this lumping old craft as she might have looked when the old
admiral commanded her beneath the broad flag of Spain,--her crowded
decks, her tall masts, the gorgeous array of bright-colored garments
worn by the dusky grandees who were on board, the images of the saints,
the crucifix at the wheel, the shaven priest, and all the pomp and
ceremony that attended her clumsy progress to strange ports.

I knew the history of her last voyage well. I knew how she had twice
rounded Cape Horn and stanchly buffeted the storms of two oceans; of the
troops she had landed, the treasure she had taken up, and the final
scene when with sails set and colors flying she sank beneath the waves.
Long ago every soul who then lived had gone to the other world; the
admiral, his officers and his crew, the king and queen and all their
court were now returned to dust. Yet here lay the fabric of teak and
oak, still strong and stanch and enduring, and the store of gold that I
hoped to get. Were the shades of these departed ones aware that a
heretic was planning and contriving to get the long sunken treasure, so
much of which had been once designed for the coffers of the holy mother
Church?

We made a careful survey of the basin, and selected the lesser bank of
sand, that forming the breakwater at the narrow end of the chasm, as a
suitable site for the pumping-apparatus. Mr. Millward pointed out to me
the fact that the water stood higher in the basin than the then level of
the sea,--a proof, he insisted, that the water did not percolate to any
considerable extent through the firmly packed sand. This was a highly
important fact to us. Had it been otherwise we never could have hoped to
pump the basin dry, or below the sea level.

With a line we took some measurements which we expected to need, and
then set out on our return to the house.

As a matter of convenience we decided to build the water-raising machine
complete and set it up and test it at the creek near the house, where we
could be near such domestic comforts as we possessed; after which we
could load it on the boat and convey it to the chasm. And this work we
set about at once. As I have already indicated what this machine was to
be I need not here again detail minutely its construction. The wheel we
made chiefly of stout bamboo, the water-troughs of hollowed logs; the
bearings, in deference to Mr. Millward’s recollection of the uncouth
screeching of the machine’s Indian predecessors, we supplied liberally
with grease. In ten days the thing was complete and set up at the creek
for trial,--troughs, platform, and all. I had arranged that the water
might flow from the troughs into a ditch leading to our garden to
irrigate the growing crops.

When all was ready I mounted the wheel, and like a horse in a treadmill
(perhaps a better simile would be like a hod-carrier climbing an endless
ladder) began to turn it. Up came the full gourds, splashing the water
at quick intervals alternately into the two troughs, whence it flowed
down to the ditch in tinkling rills, steadily and continuously, as long
as I chose to keep up the ladder-climbing action. It was going to prove
rather hard work, I fancied; but nevertheless it was a perfect success,
as I was continually lifting more than half my own weight in water with
as little exertion as could have been required to accomplish that
result. Then Mr. Millward tried his footing on the machine; and finally
we had to help up Alice to try it in turn. Altogether it was unanimously
pronounced a grand success, and we only waited for a fair wind that we
might take it down and embark it for the chasm. Unfortunately for our
patience, the wind veered around into the northeast again, and was quite
too heavy to allow us to make the voyage with safety, as the rollers
came tumbling in over the bar at the mouth of the creek at such rate
that there would be great danger of swamping the boat in any endeavor we
might make to get outside.

I was so impatient at this delay that I had half a mind to take the
machine apart and attempt to carry it piecemeal overland. But it was
useless to repine over the inevitable. It was not probable that I should
gain an hour of time by undertaking to lug the machine overland, and I
should simply have a great labor for naught. There was therefore nothing
to do but to possess our souls with patience and await the issue.

Aside from the wind, which blew half a gale, the weather was pleasant,
and the sun shone warm and bright. As we had nothing better to do, it
was agreed that we should make an overland excursion to the old
plantation for the purpose of getting some fresh fruit. One morning
early, after a good breakfast, we ferried over the creek and started
with light hearts and in holiday spirits up the beach, the wind blowing
stiffly and the breakers crashing in beside us. I assisted Alice
Millward with my arm, for the breeze was strong enough to make walking
against it difficult for a woman. With bowed heads we beat slowly along
until we reached the hog path, and were glad to turn into it and get
under shelter of the vegetation, which broke the wind and made progress
comfortable. Neither of my companions had ever been over this road
before, and I explained what might be expected from moment to moment as
we advanced. When we came to the cleft in the rocks where the stream
came through, Alice and her father were delighted with the romantic and
picturesque beauty of the place; the bold, precipitous rocks, the
stream, the overarching trees growing far above, the dense beds of fern,
tall and feathery, were all duly admired.

When we emerged into the north valley, we found a great herd of pigs
that scattered and ran wildly at our approach. I managed to lasso a
little porker, just old enough to roast, which we proposed to have for
dinner. The orange grove was as before plentifully laden with oranges in
all stages of growth, many of them quite ripe, a delicious refreshment.
We soon reached the house, and building a fire in the broad fireplace of
the kitchen, spitted the porker in front of it, and leaving him to twirl
slowly before the fire on a twisting cord, we wandered over the old
garden and plantation, Alice and I often hand in hand. I felt sure that
she was pleased at my undisguised attention to her comfort, and that it
gave her pleasure to be with me; and this in turn gave me unspeakable
delight.

We were among the bananas and plantains seeking some of the latter to
bake as an accompaniment for our dinner of roast pig, when I heard what
sounded like the distant report of a gun. The sound was so faint and
distant that I could not be entirely sure of my impressions, until I had
asked Alice,--

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” she replied, “it sounded as though somebody had fired a pistol
far away over yonder on the high land.”

We listened intently several minutes for a repetition of the sound, but
as we heard nothing the impression soon passed away; for our
conversation, however uninteresting it would seem if written down, was,
I assure you, of most absorbing interest, at least to me, though we
talked of nothing in particular, and like children laughed at everything
out of mere high spirits. We went now with our plantains to the house,
where Mr. Millward was gone to look after the roast. He came out to meet
us, smiling at our evident enjoyment as he heard the merry ringing
laughter of his daughter, over some nonsense or other I had been putting
into words. As we all three stood in the shadow of the great veranda,
upon its brick pavement, between the joints of which the rank vegetation
was sprouting, I heard again, and this time borne on the wind quite
distinctly, two shots in quick succession. There was no mistaking the
sound this time. I saw instantly in the faces of both my companions that
each had heard the unusual sound. Mr. Millward cried quickly: “A gun!
who can be firing a gun on the island?”

“What can this mean?” thought I. And again we listened, but there was no
repetition of the report.

“Somebody besides ourselves is on the island,” said Mr. Millward.

We stood now looking at each other in silence for several minutes. My
mind reverted at once to the pearl-fishers. They had doubtless returned,
and the shots we had heard indicated that they were pig-hunting. The
same thought had occurred to Mr. Millward, and he immediately expressed
his fear that the pearl-fishers had come back. Indeed, it did not need
any great power of divination to determine this, because the chances
were as a hundred to one against any other visitors. All the picnic and
holiday hilarity of our excursion was over. We were full of anxiety and
care at once. The probability was that we had neighbors, of a most
undesirable character,--lawless adventurers who would have small respect
and consideration for us if we stood in their way, or even if they
thought so. If they discovered that we had surprised their secret it was
impossible to say what they might do. I had often thought of the
contingency which now apparently presented itself, and had cogitated
much and to no purpose as to what I should do when it arose. And now the
thing so long feared as a possibility was actually upon us. Unexpectedly
at the last it came like a skeleton to mar our happy feast. We hurried
through our dinner in anxious mood and immediately started back home,
laden with the fruit we had collected.

When we reached home everything was as we had left it. There had been,
so far as we could tell, no visitor in our absence. We arrived about
three o’clock in the afternoon. I was restive with the uncertainty and
anxiety that the sound of those three gunshots had occasioned. I felt
that I must know speedily the exact truth. Our own personal safety, to
say nothing of the treasure ship, was possibly involved, and I
determined to go at once to Farm Cove, where they would probably be
encamped, and reconnoitre the enemy secretly. Of course there would be
danger of encountering the pig-hunter, or party of pig-hunters on the
way, but I must endeavor by caution to avoid this. When I announced my
intention both Mr. Millward and Alice opposed my going; but I was able
very soon to convince them that it was necessary.

About four o’clock I started alone, not permitting the dog to accompany
me. I took the small axe from Mr. Millward’s boat, my lasso, some food,
and a small gourd of water slung as a canteen over my shoulder. I told
them I might not return until the next day; but that if I did not get
back before the next night they might conclude I had been captured; and
in that event it would be wise for them to embark in their boat and make
the best of their way to Martinique. But Mr. Millward proposed a better
plan, which was that if I did not return by the next night, he and
Alice, provided the weather was such as to permit it, would take both
boats out of the creek and anchor just beyond the breakers, and wait
there another day. This was such an excellent idea that I at once agreed
to it.

Bidding them farewell I plunged into the forest and made my way
cautiously to the central elevated plateau, climbing the rocks by the
path which I had first ascended. Here the open nature of the growth made
the utmost caution indispensable, for I might at any moment now come
upon the visitors, if they were still out pig-hunting. It was necessary
that I should see them before they saw me. This made my progress very
slow. Looking carefully about in every direction, and listening for
every sound, I advanced a hundred yards or so and repeated the
observation, concealing myself as thoroughly as the nature of the ground
permitted. On the connecting ridge between the central plateau and the
shore cliffs I came upon convincing evidence of the presence of visitors
on the island. Here a pig had been killed and disembowelled. The viscera
still fresh lay upon the ground, and a broad mark where the carcass had
been dragged along led away toward the shore cliffs in the direction of
Farm Cove. I had now little doubt that I should find the visitors at
that place. It was fully an hour before sunset, and I thought it best to
conceal myself and wait until dark before advancing further. I secreted
myself therefore amid a thick clump of ferns, and patiently waited for
the friendly shelter of the night.

As I sat thus buried in the ferns among the moss-grown rocks, looking
out through a break in the forest toward the southern sky, where lay a
battlemented mass of sun-dyed cloud, heavy and fantastic in outline,
there passed through my mind thoughts of the life and curious adventures
of that Henry Morgan, my ancestor’s brother, who two hundred years ago
had roamed these seas and besieged the Spanish strongholds. Fancy
pictured in the tinted clouds the fortified city of Porto Bello, the
seaport of Panama on the Atlantic side of the isthmus, which the
intrepid Morgan attacked with four hundred and sixty of his men, having
resolved to reduce this strongly fortified place as a preliminary to the
capture of the rich city of Panama itself. There was in my mind the
vision of the gray walls, the gorgeous banners, the smoke and roar of
guns, the white-faced priest and pale nuns looking from the convent
walls, the scaling-ladders, the grim, determined Anglo-Saxon sailors,
mingled with the equally determined Dutch and the black-bearded
Frenchmen, constituting Morgan’s little band. I could see in fancy the
flashing, blood-stained blades, and hear the hoarse battle-cry. I could
even fancy my ancestral uncle himself, broad-shouldered and commanding
in appearance as he needs must have been, standing, fire-balls in hand,
on the scaling-ladder, grimy with powder, and with his face set toward
the doomed city. There must have been something more than mere brute
force in this great leather-clad ancestral uncle of mine with his
flashing eyes and sturdy figure; for did he not control absolutely at
one time all this region; conquer the all-conquering Spaniard; quell
mutinies among his reckless followers with ease; lead them without food
across the fever-stricken isthmus, travelling amid inconceivable
obstacles ever onward until they were actually reduced to eating their
leathern doublets; then with this starved crew did he not besiege and
capture the rich city of Panama? When a mutiny rose and some of his
desperate followers threatened to desert him for a piratical cruise in
one of the captured ships, Morgan, like Hernando Cortez, but with his
own hand, chopped down the masts and rigging. Ah, there must have been a
spirit in this man greater than a mere piratical thirst for blood. Then
too, did not his sovereign, Charles II., bestow upon him subsequently
the order of knighthood, make him Sir Henry Morgan, and place him as
governor over the island of Jamaica? He died without descendants of his
own, the honors bestowed upon him in the later days of his career are no
longer remembered, and in the region he once dominated his name is used
to frighten children with. He is now remembered only as a buccaneer, a
name almost synonymous with “pirate;” a dauntless, reckless,
blood-thirsty, unconquerable embodiment of energy and will, brooking no
power near him save his own,--truly a leader of men, but exercising his
leadership to no good purpose. Though he once controlled the Spanish
main, we fail to see it recorded that he ever did good to any man.

Here was I now, two hundred years later, perhaps the sole surviving
representative of his family, his sole heir, seeking to recover a
treasure that he conquered, a treasure which I had already brought up
from the depths of the sea, and which only waited to be possessed. I
felt the old spirit of the dead Morgans fire my heart at the thought of
the possible intervention of a crew of lawless pearl-fishers to snatch
the prize from my grasp. The treasure was mine, doubly mine,--first by
conquest of one to whom I was heir; and secondly by right of discovery
and recovery from the sea. “No! by the Eternal, they shall not have it!”
I cried, half aloud. “By the bones of my all-conquering ancestor, they
shall never have an ounce of it, not so much as a glimpse of it!”

When it grew dark I resumed my progress toward Farm Cove, stealing along
as cautiously as I could over the somewhat broken way. Every few steps I
would pause and listen. It was dark as a pocket, and the cloudy sky was
scarcely discernible. But still, by keeping the wind on my right cheek
it was not difficult to preserve the proper direction, and I knew that
however dark the night, the sea would be visible when I reached the
cliffs, just as the sky was faintly distinguishable now through the
black foliage above me.

It took me fully an hour to cover the comparatively short distance that
remained, and it was not done without several falls on the way; but
fortunately I made no great noise, though an occasional dry branch would
break under foot with a sharp crack, which in the stillness sounded
alarmingly loud to my tense senses. In due course, groping along, I came
to the cliffs and could see the faint glimmer of the water through the
foliage. Then as I parted some branches I caught sight of the red
reflection of a fire on the leaves below, then the bright blaze of the
fire itself, and a canvas tent which was lighted by it. Increased
caution was now demanded. It would not do to step on a dry branch now,
so at each step I felt cautiously with my foot that nothing might
intervene between it and the ground. Fortunately I came out upon the
path which led down the rocks into the little vale that lay, as I have
previously described, like a bowl open on one side to the sea and nearly
surrounded by the cliffs. Down this path I stole cautiously, and was
half-way down before the intervening foliage would permit a fair view of
the encampment.

And now I was almost near enough to hear the conversation that was going
on among the people assembled there. Indeed, I could hear the hum of
voices, but was unable to distinguish words. In the light of the bright
fire I could see four men seated on the ground playing cards on a folded
blanket. They were evidently gambling. One of the four was a
yellow-skinned Chinaman, who sat facing me. Opposite him and with his
back toward me was a great, burly negro, while the other two players
were dark-skinned, black-haired native Indians or Caribbeans. The game
was an animated one, and the players were completely absorbed in it.
Near by the fire, seated on a fagot of wood, was a third Indian, his
head bent forward and resting on his hands as he looked steadily into
the fire. From where I was located I could not see into the tent, which
consisted of a square of canvas thrown over a pole and stretched
shed-fashion to the ground, with the opening toward the fire. But I
could plainly see on the canvas the shadow of a person seated within the
tent. On a limb near by hung distended the dressed carcass of a hog. I
could just make out that some sort of a craft was moored at the mouth of
the little stream.

I watched this scene for several minutes scarce daring to breathe. The
three Indians, each carrying a long knife in his belt, were, I
conjectured, the divers of the party; the Chinaman was doubtless the
cook; and as for the negro, I could not determine approximately his
place.

Suddenly the players fell to quarrelling, and one of the Indians, with
an angry cry, sprang up and drew his knife. Instantly the whole party
was on foot, and I fully expected from their excited manner and attitude
to see blood shed. Just at this juncture the person in the tent--a
man--came quickly out, with a drawn revolver in his hand, and sprang
into the mêlée, cursing and shouting in a loud, deep voice of command
for them to desist. He was a broad, compactly built fellow, of forty
years or thereabouts, evidently possessed of great muscular strength;
for he was able with his unoccupied hand to seize by the shoulder the
Indian who had drawn the knife, and with one effort send him reeling
backward almost to the ground.

“Caramba!” cried he, in guttural Spanish. “Dogs, stop this fighting, do
you hear? If I find you at it again there shall be no more card-playing.
Go to bed, or keep quiet, you quarrelsome scoundrels.”

The fight was over. All seemed alike to fear him, and when I saw his
countenance in the firelight I could not wonder. It was a dark,
powerful, and passionate face, framed in by a short black beard. Dark
enough for a Spaniard, there was yet something in the countenance that
made me think he was not of the Latin race; more likely a dark
Englishman or an American. Perhaps his dress and general appearance
contributed to this conclusion. He was the only white man in the party,
and that he was master, or chief, did not admit of a doubt.

Now that I had seen this cut-throat-looking gang and their chief, my
apprehension as to what they might attempt if they found us on the
island and in possession of their pearl-fishing secret was by no means
allayed. As to what would happen if they by any chance should discover
the galleon, I felt only too certain.

Crouched down among the dark leafage by the side of the path I remained,
a prey to many thoughts, for a quarter of an hour longer, and then stole
cautiously back up the path to the high ground above, and began my
return home through the darkness. When I had put a considerable
distance between me and the party I had left, I began to breathe more
freely. In the murky darkness I more than once missed the way, and
finally came out at a place where, though I could plainly hear the
murmur of the waters of the creek below me, it was impossible to
descend.

However, by travelling first in one direction and then in the other, I
at last came upon the little gulley which I had before descended, and
getting down was able to proceed with greater speed along the more
familiar route. It was midnight when I at last reached the house and
roused Mr. Millward and Alice to relate to them what I had seen.

As we were safe for that night at least, I proposed that we should go to
bed again and get our rest, and discuss our situation in the morning.

CHAPTER XX.

THE CAPTAIN OF THE GANG.

Though considerably exhausted by my toilsome tramp and the excitement of
the reconnoissance, I got very little sleep after I retired to my
hammock that night. Not until near dawn did unconsciousness come; and as
is usually the case under such circumstances, though my mind during
these hours of sleeplessness dwelt continually on the danger that
threatened not only our plans but ourselves as well, nothing came of the
thought except added apprehension. There is scarcely ever any good
result from what may be best termed “worry.” The mind, like the body,
refuses to act when deprived of its usual rest. One may indeed fancy he
is thinking most deeply, during the still hours of the night when he
should be sleeping, but in truth such thought is rarely genuine; it is
only puerile worry, totally lacking in virility and potency to solve
real difficulties. The fatigued brain like a coward magnifies all
obstacles, and at the same time overlooks their solution, and ignores
the hopes that rise to illumine the fresh intelligence of the rested
thinker.

The consequence was I did not waken in the morning until called to
breakfast by Alice Millward well on toward eight o’clock.

The gale had sunk to a gentle breeze from the same quarter. The bright
blue sky was flecked here and there with high clouds, soft and fleecy
white, their shadows a mellow, purple gray. It was a fresh, bright,
beautiful morning, such as breathes hope and confidence in the
apprehensive mind. I immediately began to discount the probabilities of
impending disaster that had oppressed me, and our talk at the breakfast
table was all in a hopeful strain. What right had we to suppose the
pearl-fishing gang would discover us? It was not probable they would
stay long,--a month or two at farthest,--and there was no telling how
long they had already been here. They would be busy at their work on the
other side of the island, with nothing to cause them to wander about
except the pig-hunting, when they wanted fresh pork. If they should
chance to descend from the central cliffs, they could not see our
habitation or boats, unless they should happen to come around the island
to the beach above or below us.

It behooved us therefore to lie close for the present, and the chances
seemed to favor our escaping notice. By carefully guarding against
raising a smoke during the day with our fires, we should greatly
diminish the chances of being discovered, and at night we would keep no
fire. We could lower the masts of the boats, and by mooring them a
little farther up they would be partly hidden by the willows. So, too,
as to the galleon; unless one actually climbed upon the rocks and looked
down into the basin, there was nothing in the external appearance of the
place from sea or shore to denote its existence. The vines I had planted
now grew most luxuriantly over the shed and the house, so that a casual
observer from a distance might well fail to distinguish human
habitations. There was, however, the naked palm tree with its
cross-piece which I had rigged long ago as a distress signal, standing
most conspicuously. This must come down at once; it would be plainly
visible at a great distance up and down the beach, and from the sea. A
few blows of the axe would soon remedy that. Thus we discussed the
situation; and although bad enough in all conscience to cause us much
mental disturbance, it did not seem without hope.

After arranging our belongings so that they would attract as little
attention as possible, we sat quietly down to await events. We read
aloud by turns from Charles Dickens’s beautiful story “Our Mutual
Friend;” Mr. Millward revived his early experiences; we improvised a
checker-board and finally a set of chess-men, and Mr. Millward and I
pondered long over intricate situations arising from Evans gambit.
Nevertheless the time hung heavy on our hands, owing to the shadow of
anxiety that was over us. Mention was seldom made of the pearl-fishers,
but they were always more or less in mind. Thus passed three days,
during which we heard nothing from the other party on the island.

On the morning of the fourth day, two hours before dawn, I departed for
a second reconnoissance, intending to conceal myself in some place where
I could remain during a portion of the daylight for the purpose of
getting a better knowledge of our neighbors and their doings. By
starlight I readily made my way to the cliffs about Farm Cove, and
there, just as the dawn was breaking, concealed myself in a bed of fern
growing among the rocks. From the lay of the land I judged there would
be no difficulty in seeing the camp from where I was hidden, and such
proved to be the case. By the aid of a glass belonging to Mr. Millward I
could bring the camp up to an apparent distance not exceeding two rods.

The whole party was asleep, so far as I could judge, when I first
observed them. About an hour after sunrise the Chinaman rose up from his
blanket, and after yawning and stretching himself in sleepy fashion
proceeded to build a fire and cook a breakfast for the party. This was
soon done, and then he went from one to the other of the sleepers and
roused them. The breakfast for the white man was carried into the tent.

After the eating was over the whole party, except the Chinaman, went
down to the boat, which was a good-sized sloop, of twice the tonnage of
either of ours, and embarked, pulling out of the creek by a warp laid
out to a buoy for that purpose. They had a good-sized dingy, or better,
a yawl, in tow. When they reached the buoy, which was at a distance of
forty rods or thereabouts from shore, they made fast to it, and the
three Indians with the negro got into the yawl and pulled away a hundred
yards or so to the south, the white man remaining on board the sloop,
where I could see him sitting near the tiller smoking a cigar.

When the party in the yawl reached the distance mentioned, the negro
being at the oars, they came to a standstill, and I could see the
Indians strip for diving. The operation was wholly new to me and
interesting. They took turns one after another. The fellow whose turn it
was to dive got over the side and took hold of a line, to the end of
which a great stone was tied, and which was provided with two loops, in
which he inserted his feet. When he was all ready one of the other
Indians allowed the rope to pay out rapidly, and down sank the diver
carrying a sort of bag hung around his neck. After the Indian had been
down what seemed to me an extraordinary length of time for a man to stay
under water, he came up without the bag and clung to the side of the
boat seemingly in a state of utter exhaustion. The two Indians in the
boat then helped him on board and he immediately lay down, while his
companions hauled up the stone again and brought inboard the bag, from
which they emptied perhaps a bushel of great flat oysters. Then another
took his turn, and so on in rotation, until a considerable heap of the
great bivalves, each of which was four or five inches in diameter, was
collected. These they carried to the sloop and began again, shifting
their position a little each time under the direction of the man on the
sloop, who sat watching and smoking the whole time.

I had heard remarkable stories of the length of time pearl-divers could
remain under water, some accounts putting it as high as ten minutes, and
I was sorry I had no timepiece with me to find out how long the men
before me actually stayed down. As a substitute for a more accurate
method, I timed them several times by counting my own pulse-beats.
Allowing seventy-five beats to the minute, which I believe was about
right, the longest time I could make out was a little over two minutes.
The shortness of the time was a surprise to me, for judging from my
untimed observations the apparent duration was frequently between five
and ten minutes. I think the exaggerated accounts we receive are due to
the natural tendency of an observer who does not actually measure the
time to think it longer than it really is.

The oyster-gathering thus conducted in my view was a slow business, as
the divers did not go down oftener than once in fifteen or twenty
minutes, and were seemingly in no hurry to go down at all, though
willing enough to come up. This was the frequent occasion of rough and
stern command from the man in the sloop, who kept up a more or less
constant talk across the water with his subordinates. When a diver would
come up too soon or with a light find, a string of imprecations in
Spanish would greet him; so, too, when one hesitated too long before he
plunged in.

When I had watched this performance for an hour or two I began to think
of getting back home. The Chinaman had finished his work and was seated
at the foot of a tree knitting a white cotton sock, his fingers plying
the bright steel needles as fast as ever I saw a grandmother do it. He
sat precisely facing my place of concealment, and every now and then
would look up and around, his needles still going with automatic
regularity. This was very annoying. I did not dare to move so long as he
sat there; for if he should chance to look up while I was scaling the
rock just back of me--a height of perhaps ten feet--to reach the summit
of the cliff, discovery was almost certain. I was obliged, therefore, to
remain where I was.

In order to improve the time I examined the interior of the tent with
the telescope. The only thing I saw of interest there was a
double-barrelled breech-loading shot-gun slung to the ridgepole, with a
belt of cartridges. You may be sure I coveted the possession of this
weapon and its ammunition, and had there been any way to get it, should
not under the circumstances have hesitated to appropriate it to my own
use and the defence of my friends. But even if I had succeeded in
getting it without being seen by the knitting Chinaman its loss would at
once be discovered and the presence of others on the island immediately
suspected. I now turned my glass on the Chinaman and soon saw him close
his eyes while still knitting away. He looked up now no longer, but his
fingers kept on plying the needles. His head gradually sunk upon his
breast. The man was evidently knitting in his sleep! A moment later his
hands fell into his lap, and after a few more of the automatic movements
became still. I lost no further time in climbing back to the summit and
getting out of sight in the forest, from whence I made my way home
safely.

We continued to lie close at home after this, as before. In order that
no smoke should rise by day we now made a practice of cooking at
night-time in the fireplace so that the fire would not be visible. We
did not venture out on the beach at any time during daylight where we
might be seen from a distance. This life continued thus for a week, and
I had about made up my mind to take another trip to Farm Cove to see if
the pearl-fishers were still there. This, however, became unnecessary,
for just as I had reached that conclusion we were informed of the fact
that the visitors were still present by the sound of several shots from
the centre of the island.

To occupy some of the time that hung so heavy on our hands, Mr. Millward
and I took down the pumping-machine and loaded it on the big boat, to be
in readiness to carry to the basin when we should feel it safe to do so.
We went out fishing after dark in the smaller boat several times to eke
out our supply of provisions by a stock of fresh fish. One night I was
fortunate enough to turn a fine turtle, which gave us a good supply of
meat and a plenty of eggs. The latter made a fairly good omelet, but had
a slightly unpleasant oily taste.

Thus passed another week of enforced idleness. I cannot deny that the
society of Alice Millward proved an ample compensation to me for this
delay in our plans. We were almost constantly together, and there grew
up between us, I was certain, a perfect feeling of comradeship, even if
it went no further on her part. A thousand times during this period of
intimate association my great love for this sweet girl, who grew sweeter
and dearer as I came to know her better, impelled me to speak to her of
my regard. But I did not do so. It seemed to me then that by so doing I
might risk the delight of her companionship. As our present relations
stood we were happy in each other’s friendship. Her beautiful eyes
looked into mine so frankly and cordially, her hand lay often so
confidingly in my own, her smile was so friendly and sweet, that I dared
not risk the utterance of words which, if they found no response in her
own heart, would make mine so desolate. You may perhaps quote to me the
old adage that “faint heart never won fair lady.” But please remember my
situation. You would not ask a shipwrecked mariner to give up the plank
on which he floats; no more could you ask me to risk the only joy I
knew. If there lurked discomfort in the uncertainty, certainty might
develop more than discomfort--utter despair. I trust that I am not a
coward in all things; yet in this thing my heart beat faint at the
possibility of disappointment.

It seemed to me that her father more than half guessed the state of my
heart. But he never said a word to indicate it to me, and I only judged
so from his manner at times; for example, from the fond way in which he
would look at his daughter, or stroke her hair,--little things which
suggested to my mind the idea that he thought of the time when another
might claim her from him. My turbulent heart would beat then at the bare
possibility that I might be that happy man. It must be a great sorrow
for a loving parent, who tenderly cherished a daughter through helpless
infancy and childhood, till she blossoms into womanhood, to see her
wooed and won away by a stranger--a sorrow that is not less poignant
because untainted by any selfish desire to hinder the loved one from
leaving the home nest, and acquiring new loves and affections which
shall inevitably displace to a great degree the old ones. It is small
consolation to the heart bereft that it is the course of nature. That
does not bring back the lost one. The parent would not have it
different, and yet the grief is there. Akin to this is the fond regret
of the mother who sees with mingled pride and sorrow her babe grow out
of its sweet helplessness. Day by day the little one must seem to become
less and less a part of herself. Her old love may take on a new form,
but it is not so dear a form.

One beautiful morning as we sat in the shed eating a late breakfast and
engaged in a lively conversation concerning the successful manner in
which we had evaded the notice of our neighbors at Farm Cove, wondering
if they were still there, and if so how long they would remain, we were
all surprised to see Duke come running into the shed as fast as he could
go, and plunge under the table with his tail between his legs and a
cowed air about him that was quite strange to the dog. The action was
remarkable, for Duke was a well-bred dog, and this conduct was not only
peculiar but also in very bad form. I got up immediately and looked up
and down the beach. There, not ten rods away and coming straight toward
the shed, was the chief of the pearl-fishing gang. Positively for a
second or two I felt paralyzed. Mr. Millward and Alice were almost
immediately beside me; and as soon as I could control myself I said to
them in a low tone, “It is the leader.”

The man advanced with a perfectly assured self-possession, and when near
took off his broad panama hat, bowed with great dignity and no lack of
courtly grace, saying in Spanish, “The day is better for beholding you.”

“Good morning, sir,” said Mr. Millward.

“Ah, very good; you speak English,” said the stranger in our own tongue
and with no trace of foreign pronunciation or accent. “I am glad. It is
my own language. You will pardon me for intruding upon you. But I only
followed my dog which has been lost for some time, and which I have just
found. He ran into your premises, as you noticed just now.”

“Then your name must be H. Senlis,” said I to him with as much
politeness of demeanor as I could command.

“True, my friend,” replied he, suavely; “no doubt you may read it on the
dog’s collar. H. Senlis is my name, and Duke is my dog. The rascal
mutinied and ran away from me, but that makes him no less my property.”

His property was at that moment cowering under the table, looking very
much as an escaped convict might at the appearance of his keeper.

“Of course, Mr. Senlis,” said I, “if the dog is yours, as it seems he
is, we lay no claim to him. He came to us as a stray animal. You have a
right to your property, though we should be sorry to lose him. If you
had not claimed him it was our intention to carry him away from the
island soon at our departure.”

“Poor Duke!” said Alice; “we shall not like to part with him.”

Off came the panama again with a most profound bow, and he said, “Do not
distress yourself, lady. It is not my intention or desire to take the
dog from you. It became necessary for me to punish him for
insubordination. He ran away. He is still in a mutinous mind, and I have
no use for him unless it be to punish him again, and that is hardly
worth the while, as I fear he is incorrigible. Permit me then to
surrender to you”--another profound bow--“all my right and remaining
title in the animal.”

The man’s effusive, overdone politeness, the bold, undisguised stare
which he gave to Alice, all tended to confuse the girl so that she
answered nothing to this speech.

Her father noticing this broke in by saying, “We were just at breakfast
when you came up. Will you partake of our fare?”

“Surely I will, and with much pleasure,” answered the stranger; and
thereupon as we gave way he entered the shed, and when I had procured
him a seat we all four sat down at the table. As he came in Duke rapidly
departed from under the table.

The stranger’s appetite appeared to be excellent, judging from the
quantity of baked pork and beans and hot corn bread he disposed of, and
the gourd of steaming hot coffee he drank.

“How do you happen to be here?” said he at length to Mr. Millward.

“We are castaways,” answered the old man, and added, “When I landed here
a few months ago I was helpless, unable to move a limb, in short,
paralyzed. But I am recovering, and may say, indeed, that I am now
almost myself again.”

“Then you have been here several months,” said the stranger, his eyes
fixed on Mr. Millward.

“Yes.”

“Why do you remain here, now that you are well? Or is it that you cannot
get away?”

“Can you assist us to get away?” said Mr. Millward, and I was somewhat
amused at the delicate diplomacy of this reply.

“Well,” said the stranger, “it may be possible. I will see what can be
done. Our boat is rather small and heavily laden. But I will see. I will
see, and let you know.”

At this point I broke in, saying, “When did you land?”

“We came yesterday,” said he, coolly; “a party of us are here
pig-hunting.”

“There is a great plenty of pigs to be had,” said I, accepting the lie
without remark. “When do you intend leaving?”

“We shall not remain long,--two or three days, or perhaps a week,” said
he; and after a pause he added, “but I will let you know in time.”

He inquired our names, and where we wanted to go; praised the breakfast
unstintedly; bent furtive glances of coarse admiration on Alice from
time to time; and conducted himself all through with the utmost
assurance.

When we rose from the table and went out on the beach, he drew some
long, plantation Cuban cigars from his pocket, offered us each one,
which we did not refuse, and we began to smoke together.

Presently he spied on the beach one of the cages of gourds such as we
had used in raising the galleon,--an extra one, not used. He walked up
to this object and contemplated it for several moments, turning it over
with his foot.

Finally he said, “Mr. Millward, I am a good deal puzzled over this
thing. I suppose it was cast up here by the sea. Can you tell me what it
is for?”

“I cannot, Mr. Senlis.”

“Well, it is very surprising indeed. In our sloop in the open sea a
hundred miles west of here we came across thousands of these things
floating in the water--literally thousands of them, all just like this
one, four gourds in a willow cage, with a wooden hook at the end of a
line. If it is some sort of fishing-apparatus I don’t understand how it
could be used. And where did they all come from?”

Though this made me feel decidedly uncomfortable, I could hardly forbear
laughing, as the thought of the sea full of gourds, and the puzzle
which they would present to a chance navigator, came thus forcibly to
mind.

He looked at the thing a moment longer, gave it a vicious kick as though
to punish it for daring to puzzle him, and then turned away.

Mr. Millward then took him to our flourishing garden, and said the
visitors would be welcome to a supply of fresh vegetables if they
desired it. A huge bunch of plantains caught the captain’s eye, as it
hung in the porch of the house, and he said, “Do you find plantains on
the island?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Millward, “and bananas as well. If you like we can
supply your party with both.”

“If we expected to remain long it would be an object. But we shall be
going so soon now that it is scarcely worth the trouble.”

We then returned to the house at the visitor’s suggestion, and he with
the most formal courtesy, as though parting with a hostess, took Alice
Millward’s hand and thanked her for his breakfast and said adieu to her
and us.

“You will hear from me in a day or two, a week at most. In the mean time
I hope you will not disturb the pigs. Perhaps it would be better if you
should keep away from the higher part of the island entirely, as it
might drive our game into the lowlands where it would be more difficult
to find.”

After a pause, as though considering something, he added: “Personally, I
should be pleased to have you visit our camp, which is on the other side
of the island. But I will not now ask you to do so, for the reason that
it will be difficult for me to induce my companions to submit to the
inconvenience that would result from our making room for three
additional persons in our boat. Perhaps on the whole it would be best
that they should not know you are here at present, and until I have had
opportunity to prepare them for your reception. I will let you know in
time. And now farewell until I see you again.”

With this he stalked off over the savanna to the southwest, without
again looking back. The cool, self-possessed manner in which the man had
lied was astonishing. And we were utterly unable to determine his
purpose, beyond the fact that evidently he wanted to conceal the nature
of his business on the island.

CHAPTER XXI.

SELF-BETRAYED.

The consternation and bewilderment caused to our little party by the
pearl-fishing captain’s visit may be better imagined than described.

The captain’s burly figure had hardly disappeared when Duke came back
wagging his tail. Alas! poor dog, he little knew the trouble he had
caused his friends. He came up and laid his head down on Alice’s knee to
be patted, and made much of her as was his wont.

Of course we discussed the recent event in all its bearings. The only
definite result of the long talk, however, was the general conclusion,
which can perhaps be best stated in Mr. Millward’s words, as follows:

“We are discovered,” he said, “just as we were congratulating ourselves
that we would not be. The man does not know, however, that we are aware
of the pearl-fishery. He believes, on the contrary, that we are not
aware of it. If we are not apprised of his secret he can have no object
in doing us harm. He tells us the first convenient lie that occurs to
him to gain time to think matters over. However bad he may be in fact,
it is not to be expected that he will go to the length of wantonly
murdering three people for no purpose; and I feel, therefore, that we
are safe as long as he does not fear that we have discovered his secret.
That he intends to offer us a passage on his sloop I do not believe at
all. That would be to betray his business here at once; for even if the
general character and appearance of the men and apparatus did not
suggest it, when we reached port it would inevitably come out. I am
inclined to believe he told the truth when he said that the party did
not intend to remain long on the island. Now, if we can keep matters as
they are at present, the gang will doubtless remove all evidence of
their occupation, and then quietly leave the island, and leave us to get
away as best we may.”

This all seemed reasonable and probable. Our cue, therefore, was plainly
not to discover the pearl-fishery secret, but to remain quietly at home
and await events, without attempting to invade our neighbor’s privacy.

That this was a wise conclusion was made evident that very day in the
afternoon, as follows:--

In plain sight of the house and on the skirts of the savanna, or open
grass-land, there grew a huge silk cotton-tree, with buttressed trunk
and spreading branches. I chanced to be looking that way and noticed a
flock of parrots fly to the tree and then, instead of lighting on its
branches as they seemed to have intended, break up into a confused body
as though something therein alarmed them, and scatter in all directions.
My first impression was to go up to the tree, which was perhaps an
eighth of a mile distant, to investigate. Then the idea occurred to me
that the flurry among the birds might have been caused by the captain or
some of his gang lurking there to spy upon us. To satisfy my mind on
this point, I went to the house and got Mr. Millward’s glass, and
putting it through a crevice which I cut in the wall for that purpose,
examined the neighborhood of the distant tree very carefully. Presently
I saw, perched high in the branches, and partly concealed by the
foliage, so as to be quite invisible to the naked eye, my old
acquaintance the Chinaman. There he was comfortably ensconced among the
limbs, knitting away at his white sock, just as I had before seen him.
Undoubtedly he was on watch to spy out our doings.

“Watch on, my celestial friend,” thought I; “we shall endeavor to
conduct ourselves to the eminent satisfaction of your black-whiskered
patron.”

I reported the discovery of the spy to my companions, and we had a quiet
laugh to ourselves over the matter. The only thing we did in consequence
of the discovery was to tie up poor Duke in the shed for fear that he
might find the Chinaman and occasion him some uneasiness of mind. For,
in truth, the fact that the captain had set his Chinaman to watch us was
a thing that comforted me amazingly. I reasoned it out in this fashion:
So long as the captain knew we stayed safely at home, so long would he
feel that his secret was safe; and so long as he felt his secret safe,
so long would he lack motive to molest us. The spy was a guarantee that
he would know that we were not spying about ourselves.

Four days passed thus. Each day I cautiously examined the tree with the
glass, and each time found either the Chinaman or the negro mounted on
guard. Whether they kept up the espionage at night as well as by day I
had no means for determining satisfactorily. From the actions of the dog
at times I imagined, however, that they did so.

On the morning of the fifth day of this watch, at about eight o’clock,
we received a second visit from Captain Senlis. He brought the carcass
of a young pig just killed, and inquired, after a little general
conversation, where the plantains were to be found. I endeavored to tell
him as plainly as I could where the old plantation was located and how
he might get there, and finally volunteered to guide him to the hog-path
and put him in the right course to reach the north valley. He remained
with us half an hour, and then expressed a desire to be guided as I had
suggested. Now this required that we should cross the creek, and as I
had no notion of letting him see our boats, we waded over the stream
breast-deep, and walked on up the beach. When we got to the hog-path I
pointed it out to him, and explained that he only needed to follow it
until he reached the gorge, and to pass on through the latter into the
valley; that he would then have no difficulty in finding the fruit
trees; but that in order to get out of the valley he would be obliged to
return through the gorge, as the surrounding cliffs were very
precipitous. He asked me then suspiciously if I had ever attempted to
scale the cliffs surrounding this valley. I truthfully answered that I
never had, and indeed, never had occasion to do so.

He asked me minutely about the topography of the valley, and I described
it to him as well as I could,--the surrounding wall of cliff, the little
harbor, the buildings, fields, orange groves, etc. He was particularly
interested apparently in the harbor, and I thought I could readily
understand why, though of course I did not hint that I knew he was
thinking of it as a secure place of concealment in the prosecution of
his future diving operations. At length he started into the path, and I
followed for a little way continuing the conversation. When we were well
into the forest I said I need go no farther, and we parted, he going on
and I returning on the path.

When I came out on the beach it occurred to me that this was an
excellent opportunity to walk up to the basin and take a look at the
galleon, to see how she came on. There was nobody in sight, and I was
already half-way there. I had bitter cause subsequently to regret this
foolish performance, as you will presently see.

When I reached the place I climbed upon the rocks and looked down into
the basin. There was the galleon peacefully resting in the clear, calm
pool, visible from end to end through the transparent water. I stood
thus contemplating this object, so interesting to me, for perhaps a
quarter of an hour, and then came down upon the beach and started home.
I walked quietly along, in no special hurry to be back, entirely without
suspicion of any misfortune, and thinking of the time when our
troublesome neighbors would be gone, when suddenly I saw in the damp
sand tracks which I at once recognized as having been made by the feet
of the Chinaman. There was no mistaking these footprints. They could
only have been made by the peculiar shoe worn by that people. The prints
indicated that he had come diagonally out on to the beach to the edge of
the water and then run in again toward the forest.

I took this all in at a glance and read its meaning instantly. The
almond-eyed spy had followed me up the beach, and here was where he had
run out to get sight of me as I turned in toward the rocks. No doubt he
had seen me looking into the basin. I did not pause in my walk, for he
might even now be watching me; but I edged in slowly toward the jungle
and got out of sight. Then I looked back up the beach, but could see
nothing. Would the Chinaman go up and look into the basin, or would he
content himself with simply following me to see that I did not go toward
Farm Cove? I determined to find out. There was nothing in sight. I could
not go through the jungle, so I came boldly out and ran up the beach
close to the bushes as fast as I could until I had gone about twenty
rods. By going out to the water I could now see the rocks of the basin.
So I lay down flat on the sand and rolled out nearly to the water’s
edge. If the Chinaman was there watching he might wonder; but no matter,
I would take that chance. When far enough out I looked toward the rocks,
and saw the spy there at the basin looking in just as I had done. It was
enough. His back was turned. I sprang to my feet and ran back under
cover. Our secret was out now with a vengeance, and all through my own
stupidity. The situation was a desperate one. The treasure seemed in a
fair way to be irretrievably lost. Without arms Mr. Millward and I could
not cope with the pearl-fishing gang, and it was too much to expect that
on this remote island, far from the power of the law, they would respect
our prior right to the cargo of the old vessel which we had brought up
from the deep. They would do what they pleased, and would doubtless
speedily please to go diving in the basin; and we would be powerless to
prevent it.

With head bent down I slowly made my way home. There was a gloomy party
there that day. Of course no one blamed me for the misfortune but
myself. That was, however, no consolation. I was so fully convinced that
the truculent Senlis and his gang would seize on the treasure of the
galleon, that I already counted it almost as good as lost. Still I did
not entirely despair, and did not intend to give up all effort until the
treasure was actually gone. But what could we do? Mr. Millward thought
we could do absolutely nothing.

“Don’t grieve over spilt milk, my boy,” said he, kindly, in an effort to
soothe my terrible disappointment. “There are far greater sorrows in
this world than the mere loss of money.”

Alice, too, was full of sympathy, and put her hand on my shoulder
without a word. But I could read well enough in her face what she would
say.

No one could suggest any plan of action except that now it might perhaps
be quite as well for us to embark and leave the island and the dangerous
neighborhood of the captain and his crew. But I was not willing to do
this until I knew with definiteness what were his intentions. We finally
concluded that as soon as it was dark we would get the boats ready and
go out to sea, where we could watch proceedings in safety.

About four o’clock in the afternoon the captain came sauntering down the
beach. I knew quite well that he had seen the galleon, or at least the
inference that the Chinaman had reported it to him was almost certain.
But though he crossed the creek and came to the shed where we were all
seated and talked with us a while, he said not a word concerning the
subject that was uppermost in all our minds. Could it be possible the
Chinaman had not told him? No; I could dismiss that idea from my mind;
it was too improbable. He knew of the wreck, and moreover he knew that I
knew of it. His present demeanor was simply the outcome of his naturally
secretive disposition. But there was one thing he did not know, and I
did not intend to let him know it. And that was the fact that we were
aware he knew of the galleon. So I said nothing that would lead him to
suspect that I had been watching his spy; nor did the others.

The man’s deceitful nature, which I well comprehended by this time,
coupled with the offensive air of gallantry which he exhibited toward
Alice Millward, together with the fact that I felt sure he intended to
overhaul the galleon and seize upon the fruits of our tremendous labor,
made me feel as though I should like to have it out with him there and
then. And the effort I was obliged to make to control my feelings did
not add to my comfort while he stayed. I was very glad, as we all were,
when he left.

Just before sunset I strolled into the grove of cocoanuts about half a
mile from the house, on no special errand but just idly thinking over
the condition into which our affairs had drifted. I was so absorbed in
my own thoughts that for the time I had forgotten our determination to
stay close at home. As I was standing near a tall palm, with my hands in
my pockets, I was rudely awakened from my revery by the whistle of a
bullet close to my head, and the report of a pistol following
immediately after. I got behind the tree in short order and watched to
see if I could discover the author of this wanton attack. That it was
the captain or some of his gang I had no doubt; most probably it was the
captain, for so far as I knew he was the only one who carried firearms.

I waited where I was for half an hour, until the dusk had come, and then
went home. I did not tell of this adventure just then, as it was not
necessary to make my friends feel uneasy. They had heard the shot, but
attached no special importance to it. This deliberate attempt to murder
me made me feel strongly the danger of our remaining longer on shore. I
had no right on any account to subject Alice and her father for a moment
more to the tender mercies of such a gang of cutthroats. Let the galleon
and its treasure go if necessary, we must put to sea at once. The full
moon would rise by nine o’clock, and as we wanted to be off shore before
that time, we had to hurry our preparation. The boats were fortunately
both provided with a supply of fresh water in gourds, which would keep
sweet, and it did not take us long to put our provisions on board,
together with such things as we thought we might need for a voyage. The
masts were down in both boats, having been lowered for the purpose of
concealment. We were obliged, therefore, to have recourse to our oars,
rowing the large boat and towing mine after it. We had forgotten Duke,
but he came swimming after us just as we were about to leave the creek,
and I helped him on board. As I did so my hand came in contact with his
collar. I stopped the boat and took this collar off, for the reason that
it bore the name of Senlis, and dropped it overboard into the sea. I
smile when I think of the childish performance; but it seemed to me then
that I could not bear to have anything near me pertaining to the
truculent knave. And I have no doubt that Duke also felt delighted, and
with much more reason. My companions both noticed the act, but said
nothing.

Just as we got beyond the rollers I made out in the darkness the figure
of a man running down to the beach. I knew he could see us better than
we could see him.

“Pull, Mr. Millward!” I cried; “they are after us. Get down in the
bottom of the boat Alice, quick! they may shoot.”

The words were hardly out of my mouth when three pistol-shots were fired
in rapid succession, and the balls whistled close by us. From the flash
I thought I could make out the captain as the murderous assailant.

He did not fire again and we were soon out of range, and casting anchor
began the work of setting up the masts and rigging. The light of the
moon, which soon rose, showed nobody on the beach. It was almost light
enough to read coarse print, and this facilitated our work greatly. As
soon as the boats were in sailing trim we stood off to the north with a
gentle breeze coming from the south. By midnight we were off the north
cape, and here we cast anchor in plain sight of the rocks surrounding
the galleon basin and in such a position that we could see the
pearl-divers’ boat long before it could come within gunshot, if it
should put to sea and attempt to round the cape.

I now told my companions of the narrow escape I had had at the cocoanut
grove, which, owing to more recent events, was no surprise to them.

We arranged to keep a watch as follows: I would take the first watch
until two o’clock; then Alice would watch until four, and Mr. Millward
until six, and then I would take another turn while they slept in the
morning. Alice insisted on taking her share of this duty.

Mr. Millward rolled himself up in the bottom of the boat and in five
minutes was sound asleep. Alice and I sat in the stern sheets together.
She insisted she was not sleepy, and wanted to change the order of the
watches agreed upon, and to take the first watch herself. This I would
not let her do, as I had determined if she went to sleep not to waken
her. I could not persuade her to lie down. We sat silently thus for half
an hour, when I saw that she had fallen asleep. I gently drew her toward
me that she might rest with some comfort, and held her thus unconscious
in my arms, the moonlight falling softly upon her sweet, pale face. I
felt that here was a treasure to console me for the loss of the galleon.

The long, heaving swell rocked us gently, and the soft plash of the
water against the boat sung a lullaby. More than once I found my heavy
eyelids about to close. Then I would rouse myself up, for fear of
disturbing the dear burden that rested upon me, and look about. Nothing
came in sight. I could see the rocks where lay the galleon; the long
line of breakers down the beach; the sea stretching clear to the
horizon on all sides except where the island obstructed the view; the
shore and foliage lit up by the silvery light of the moon; but no sign
of our interesting neighbors. The hours passed on until three o’clock
and after. One after another the constellations moved down to the
western sky line, and still Alice slept peacefully on.

At last she moved uneasily and seemed about to awaken. I wanted very
much to let her head gently down upon the seat, that she might not know
how she had been sleeping, but my attempt to do this wakened her fully;
and she at once realized the whole situation.

I said then, speaking low that her father might not be wakened, “Alice,
never mind, you have been sleeping.”

She looked up at me in a startled way and blushed until the flush was
visible in the moonlight.

Again I said, gently, “Never mind about it, you have been sound asleep.
Pray don’t distress yourself.”

Then how it came about I do not exactly know, and perhaps should not
care to analyze it here at any rate. In her sweet confusion, while lying
thus in my arms, I put my lips to hers, and pressed her to my heart.

The uncertainty was gone, never to return. My dear Alice was mine, mine
alone. I had rescued a treasure, indeed, from the sea. Ah! do you know
what it means, this finding out your true love? If you do, then no need
for me to write it down; if you do not, then mere lifeless words cannot
paint to you the pure delight, the flood of hope and fond emotion.

Of course we had much to talk about, as lovers do, and we sat talking
low until the gray dawn stole into the eastern sky heralding the sun. I
learned a good deal in that time. Perhaps the most instructive lesson
was when Alice drew forth my old stained visiting card, and showed it to
me.

Just before sunrise the old man woke up from his sound sleep, and came
aft to where I was sitting with my arm around his daughter.

I lost no time in telling him what had passed between us.

“Is it so, Alice?” said he, putting his hand on her head tenderly and
turning her face up toward his.

“Yes, father.”

“Well”--after a long pause, and sighing--“I suppose it is only natural.”
Then turning to me he laid his other hand on my shoulder, and said: “My
boy, you may be thankful to have such a wife. She will prove to you what
her dear mother was to me. I thought I could see this coming, but it is
hard to lose my little girl.”

He then sat down beside us, and after a little silence said: “Now, my
children, we are all here together. You have made up your minds to love
each other. It will please me that you should love each other well; the
more the better. And I want you to take me into the partnership. I am an
old man, and I cannot lose my daughter. She is all I have on earth. Make
a place for me, my son, in your heart, as I have already made a place
for you. And you, Alice, love him with all your heart, and do not feel
that I am an outsider, or my presence a hindrance to you. Often have I
tried to console other parents by saying they gain a son when they lose
a daughter. Now I am called upon to console myself. I may do it by
loving you both.”

I was much affected by the old man’s earnest manner and the deep feeling
that trembled in his voice. I took his hand in mine and pressed it
fervently. Alice threw her arms about his neck and passionately declared
no one could take his place in her heart.

The sun rose upon this scene, and his level beams shone upon us with a
flood of golden light. A bright new day had dawned for me in more senses
than one.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE CAPTAIN’S FATE.

About ten o’clock in the morning we had the first news of our neighbors.
Captain Senlis, the negro, and the three Indians at that hour came
walking up the beach from the direction of our house. The negro had a
coil of rope over his shoulder, and one of the Indians carried a water
jug. It was plainly an expedition to view the galleon. When they came in
sight the negro pointed out our boats, and they all paused a moment to
look at us, as we swung at anchor just beyond range from the nearest
point of the shore.

We were curious to know what would be their method of procedure with
reference to the galleon. In view of the vast amount of incrustation of
shells and coral, it would be no very easy task even for the
pearl-divers to get at the contents of the old ship by diving and
breaking into the hull. That such was their design I conjectured from
the fact that the captain carried an axe, and one of the Indians an iron
bar. When they had reached the rocks I took Mr. Millward’s glass, and
climbed the mast of the sloop to the cross-trees, where I could have a
footing, and from which I could just see over the edge of the
breakwater, and get a glimpse of the surface of the water in the basin,
for about half its extent.

When they came to the rocks all five stood looking down into the basin
for some time, the Indians pointing now and then, and the captain and
the negro holding conversation together. Then they all came down into
the breakwater. One of the Indians began to prepare himself for a dive,
greasing his body with oil from a bottle and plugging up his nose and
ears, in the slow, methodical way that I had before observed, and with
the same apparent reluctance. When he was ready he sat down on the sand
with such an air of indifference and disinclination to proceed that I
could not help smiling. Then the captain began to gesticulate and talk
in a way that made it plain, though of course at that distance I could
not hear a word, that he was cursing the poor Indian at a stormy rate.
There seemed to be some sort of hitch or difficulty in affairs. The two
other Indians came up to the captain and began to talk to him. From the
distant pantomime I fancied they were endeavoring to convince him that
the rock at the shore side would be a better place to work from than the
low breakwater. But this the captain would not see. He presently went up
to the seated Indian and pushed him on the shoulder; but the man only
looked stolidly. The captain then threw off his coat, kicked off his
shoes, and plunged into the basin. He evidently intended to swim to the
wreck, and stand on the higher portions of it. It required only a few
strokes for a powerful swimmer such as he would doubtless be.

But the unfortunate man never reached the galleon. After he had plunged
in he was hidden from my view by the breakwater. My glass was levelled
carefully on the scene, and the whole of it was in the field. I expected
almost instantly to see his burly figure rising from the three or four
feet of water that covered the poop of the galleon, but he did not
appear. Not only did he fail to appear, but there arose immediately the
greatest excitement among the others. The Indians began to throw up
their arms and shout and to cast stones into the basin. The negro
covered his face with his hand as though to shut out some fearful sight.

The meaning of all this did not penetrate to my mind at once. I could
not understand the disappearance of the captain. But the conduct of the
Indians, in their shouting and stone-throwing, led me presently to
conjecture the real state of the case. It was the imprisoned shark. I
now recollected that he lay in the basin like a sentinel guarding the
galleon. The captain had been attacked by the fish, and probably killed.
The conduct of his followers would soon determine this. Mr. Millward
called up to me to know what the evident excitement meant. In a moment
more I caught a glimpse of what seemed a blood stain on the surface of
the pool, though of course I could not be sure; for while the glass
brought the view up to an apparent distance of not over ten rods, still
there was a certain glimmer due to the refraction of the light which
made such a thing as a discoloration of the water an extremely difficult
thing to see. But putting all together,--the disappearance of the
captain, the fact that the shark was there, and finally the conduct of
the remaining members of the party,--I felt morally certain that he had
met his fate in a horrible death from the treacherous fish. If such was
the case (and there seemed to be no escape from the conclusion) I felt
sure there would be no further attempts made by the party to get at the
wreck until they could get rid of the shark. I told my companions what I
had seen and my conclusions drawn therefrom, and they agreed with the
latter.

I came down on deck, as we could watch the doings of the party on the
rocks quite well from there, though we could not see into the basin.

The three Indians and the negro were now gathered together in a group on
the rock, evidently engaged in a consultation. Presently the negro
started off down the beach toward Home Creek, and the Indians remained
at the rock. We immediately concluded that he had gone to their camp to
get a shark hook, or the gun, or some means of destroying the man-eater.
I at once made up my mind that we did not want our sentinel destroyed,
and that the only way to prevent it was to reach the camp ahead of the
negro, and get possession of the shotgun and ammunition. There would be
no one at Farm Cove now except possibly the Chinaman, who would be left
there as a guard to the property. I recollected his propensity for
knitting and sleeping, and thought it possible to catch him napping if I
could arrive there before the negro. He would require over two hours to
go, and would most likely sail back in the pearl-fishers’ sloop, and
would then be in a position, with the gun, to make the neighborhood too
warm for us. I determined to be beforehand with him if possible. I could
do this by sailing down to Farm Cove in my boat, along the west coast,
which would not take longer than an hour. The Chinaman, if he should be
keeping a bright lookout, which was not very likely, would not be
expecting anybody from the sea. The chances of success in the enterprise
seemed more than even.

I explained the plan to Alice and her father, and the necessity that
existed for speed and promptness in its execution. After much
hesitation, particularly on Alice’s part, they finally agreed that the
move was a proper and advisable one. I immediately cast loose the
“Mohawk” and made sail, leaving the Millwards and their boat at anchor.
As I parted from them I told Mr. Millward to keep a bright lookout, and
if he should see the pearl-fishers’ sloop coming before my boat, to
weigh anchor and stand to the north, and then make his way as best he
could to Martinique, and assured him that I would follow in my own boat
if I came to no harm. The wind was light, and had shifted so that I had
it fairly on the port beam, and made satisfactory speed on the way. I
would have at least a half-hour to spare before the negro could make the
distance by land, the route he was taking, and probably an hour, unless
he made more haste than I believed he felt occasion to do.

When I came nearly opposite the cove I bore up close-hauled and headed
fairly for the sloop, which lay moored at the mouth of the little
stream, and came boldly in. If the Chinaman should be at the tent the
intervening foliage would prevent him from seeing me, and if he was on
board the sloop, which was not likely, I would soon see him. When I drew
up alongside the sloop, keeping the sails full to prevent their flapping
in the slight breeze, I found it deserted, and immediately made fast
leaving my sails hoisted ready for a rapid retreat if it should be
required. Now the greatest caution became necessary. If the Chinaman was
at the camp I must see him before he saw me. Moreover, I conceived that
there was no time to spare even if I had a full hour before me.

From my previous visits and observations the lay of the land was
perfectly familiar to me. The best way to reach the tent would be to
follow up the creek, where I would be screened from view by the
oleanders that grew on its banks. This would necessitate swimming for a
few rods just at the mouth, and I felt a little nervous at the
recollection of the recent shark episode, but rightly concluded that the
sharks could not be very plentiful hereabouts, or the diving could not
have been carried on. Without delay I slipped gently over the side into
the water and swam in until my feet found bottom. It grew rapidly
shallow now until the water was soon only ankle-deep in the little
narrow rivulet. Cautiously advancing I soon came to a point where the
tent was visible. The gun and ammunition hung in their old place, but no
Chinaman could be seen. The stream took a bend here, and by following it
completely round I could gain a spot within a couple of rods of the
tent. This I safely reached and looked around again for the Chinaman,
but he was not to be seen. I then waited, watched, and listened for
fully five minutes, but could get no trace or sign of him. The gun was
so near that I then made up my mind to make a bold dash for it. If I
could get hold of the gun I did not care for the Chinaman. With this
intent I started on a run straight for the tent before me.

I had not taken three steps before my foot came down exactly upon the
celestial lying flat on his back asleep in the grass. I must have
knocked the wind out of him completely, as my foot backed up by my whole
weight struck him fairly in the pit of the stomach. He squirmed and
struggled up to a sitting posture, but did not cry out nor make any
effort to stop me. Indeed, I believe the fellow could not have cried out
to save his life after the foul blow he had received in the diaphragm.

I turned to look at him as I ran on, but did not pause until I had the
weapon in my hands, a cartridge in both barrels, and the belt of
ammunition buckled around my waist. I was now master of the situation,
as I supposed. I looked around the tent to see if there were any other
firearms, but could see none. My back was momentarily turned towards the
prostrate foe, when a curious whistling sound caught my ear, and
instinctively I wheeled quickly around just in time to escape a knife
which he had thrown at my back with all the dexterity of a juggler.
Instantly I covered him with the gun, and there never was a Chinaman
nearer death, who lived to tell it, than this yellow scoundrel at that
moment. My finger was on the trigger, when he threw himself face down
flat on the grass with his arms stretched toward me, the palms together.
It was not worth while nor did I want to kill him, I reflected in a
moment, and moreover I did not care to fire the gun, for there was no
telling how near the negro might be. So, keeping an eye upon him as long
as I could see him lying there, I hurried down to the boats. Just as I
reached the place where they were moored I caught a glimpse of the
light-blue blouse of the Chinaman as he ran swiftly up the path toward
the top of the cliffs.

As I have before stated, the pearl-fishers had laid a warp from the
shore to a buoy anchored well out, which they used to haul the sloop in
and out by. I hastily cast off the shore end of this warp, which was
fast to a tree, and taking it on board the pearl-fishers’ sloop hauled
that vessel, my own, and the pearl-fishers’ yawl, all three, out to the
buoy. I then made shift to haul up the anchor by aid of a winch on the
pearl-fishers’ craft, and left it hanging at the bow, cutting loose the
buoy. We now began to drift, and I took a line to my own boat
preparatory to towing the entire flotilla. All this had occupied some
time, and just as I was fairly under way I saw the Chinaman and the
negro run down to the mouth of the creek. The black fairly danced with
anger, and shouted out curses loud and deep after me, to all of which I
made no reply, but getting the sails on my boat trimmed, jogged slowly
along with my heavy tow safe behind. I felt now for the first time since
our disagreeable neighbors had come on the island that the game was once
more in our hands.

About one o’clock the boat of the Millwards hove in sight, and knowing
he would have his glass bearing on me I stood up in the stern sheets
that he might plainly see all was right. By three o’clock we were once
more together, and all three boats at anchor, in plain sight of the
Indians on the rock, who exhibited the utmost excitement when they saw
me towing up their sloop. In a little while afterward the negro and the
Chinaman came up to the beach and joined the rest of their party.

Having no fear now of firearms, we had brought all the boats to anchor
much nearer the shore, so that we were now in easy hailing distance of
the shore party. After a talk with his companions the negro came out
alone to the nearest point on the rocks and called to us in “darky”
English. When I had answered his hail, he said “Wharfor you done tek our
boat, boss? How you reckon we kin git off dis hyar island with no boat?”

“Do you want to leave the island?” said I.

“Yes boss, de captain’s dead, eat up by shark. We don’t want to stay
hyar no longer. Fore de Lawd, I speak true.”

“Tell the rest to come where you are,” said I.

When they had all gathered there and stood in a row, I asked them in
Spanish if they wanted to go, and they all began to speak at once. Then
I motioned for silence, and bade them each to speak in turn, the
right-hand man first, who happened to be the Chinaman. He wanted to go,
and one after another they said the same.

“If I let you have the boat will you sail straight away, and leave here
for good and all?”

To this they all assented except the negro, who said they wanted to go
to the cove to get the things left there. There could be no objection to
that, if they did not stay longer than was necessary to embark the
property, and I so told them. Moreover, they would need a supply of
water. If they set about it at once they could do all this and be away
by midnight, as there would be a moon to light them on the way.

Having settled this to our mutual satisfaction, I cut loose the yawl
that it might drift in, and directed them to come on and get their
vessel.

The alacrity with which the whole party tumbled into the yawl was
sufficient evidence of the desperate straits they had fancied themselves
to be in, at the prospect of being marooned on the island. Before they
got under way, I told the negro that if they chose to do so they might
delay departure until the next day, which would give them more time to
make proper preparation for their voyage; but that they must be under
way before the next night. He agreed to this and said,--

“Boss, we got nothen agin you. You’ve treated us square, and we’s mighty
glad to get away.”

The Chinaman grinned at me as they bore away, as though he felt grateful
for not being shot, and had forgiven the blow below the belt. The
Indians sat stolidly silent, but I felt surer of them than of either of
the others.

As soon as they had sailed we brought the boats to the shore, in the
sheltered nook I have before mentioned, and unloaded the
pumping-apparatus before nightfall, to be ready to set it up in the
morning.

That night we slept on board the boat, but kept a watch all night. I
turned in immediately after sundown and slept until one o’clock. Then
Mr. Millward wakened me and I kept watch until five o’clock, after which
Alice watched for the two hours we both continued to sleep. There were
no signs of the other party during the night. And I may state here, to
avoid repetition, that they put off in their boat about three o’clock in
the afternoon of that day, and before sunset were out of sight in the
western board.

It took us all that day to set up the pumping-machine and get it into
working order, in addition to the slight task of setting up a sail on
the sand for a tent in which to sleep.

We had suffered so many set-backs now in regard to the galleon that we
all felt like crowding the work to our utmost, for fear something new
might turn up. I could not help feeling that the pearl-fishing gang, as
soon as they could reach port and procure firearms, might take it into
their heads to return for the spoils that they must expect would be
found in the wreck. We could not hope, therefore, to feel entirely
secure for longer than ten days.

When the pearl-fishers sailed we observed them with the glass and noted
that the whole party was on board; therefore we should not need to keep
a watch for the present. That night, tired out, I slept soundly, but was
troubled with dreams about the galleon. For example, I dreamed that we
had emptied her hold completely and found nothing in it but a sealed
jar, which upon opening we found to contain a dirty visiting-card, on
which was written, “I raised this galleon in 1830 and took out all her
contents. This is for the benefit of the next man who tries it. Please
let her sink again.”

This, absurd as it was, when added to the real uncertainty and natural
anxiety I felt contributed not a little to my discomfort. I could not
help anticipating a possible disappointment. But then reason told me
plainly that the probabilities were all the other way. Still, there was
the ever recurring thought, “What if there should prove to be no
treasure?”

The next day Mr. Millward and I began the pumping business in earnest.
Of course I was able to keep much longer at it than he, and his share
amounted to little more than to spell me occasionally for a short time.
Since that leg-aching and back-breaking experience, kept up for four
days, I never can see a horse in a treadmill without a gush of sympathy.
On the fourth day the water was so low that the shark was almost
aground, and I put two loads of buckshot into the living grave of
Captain Senlis, whereupon it succumbed, and left the galleon unguarded.

By night of this fourth day the basin was pumped out sufficiently, and
the galleon lay almost completely exposed, the water inside of her still
leaking out slowly. Completely exhausted we went to bed early and left
her to drain as she might. Human nature could endure no more. I was so
exhausted that I went supperless to bed, and consequently woke early in
the morning hungry as a hunter. While the others still slept I raked the
embers together, built up the fire and put the coffee on to boil. I then
roused my companions, and we were soon at breakfast discussing the
probabilities of finding anything in the old hulk. At last the day had
come around for which we had toiled and waited so long.

CHAPTER XXIII.

TREASURE TROVE.

It would be impossible to convey to another an adequate idea of the
feelings I experienced when I clambered for the first time upon the deck
of the old galleon. Alice and her father stood on the rocks as I
advanced along the shell-incrusted structure, axe in hand, to the raised
cabin or poop. I struck the cemented door with the axe several blows,
until it broke and fell in with a crash. Then there came up a damp
sea-smell from a dark, cavernous interior, into which here and there
penetrated a narrow beam of light from small crevices and openings
above. I was about to break in the window containing the iridescent pane
of milky glass, when Alice called to me to spare it, if possible, for
its exceeding beauty. So I dashed my axe through all the other incrusted
openings, and let in a flood of light and fresh air to the long sunken
apartment. Mr. Millward cautioned me to beware of foul air and gases;
but the caution was needless, the air was pure and sweet and impregnated
only with an odor such as a receding tide leaves behind. Testing it
cautiously at first, I soon felt that it was safe, and entered the
cabin, the floor of which was flush with the deck on which I stood.

On either hand were berths, the doors of some of which were closed, and
some fallen open. Within the berths I found the usual bunks, and looked
with dread for ghastly memorials of those who once occupied them. But if
there had been skeletons there at one time, the bones were long since
dissolved and gone; not a trace was left. All about were remains of sea
organisms of various kinds, animal and vegetable, which had lived and
flourished here in the dark deep under the sea. I could note here and
there heaps indicating the decayed or covered remains of the furniture.
A glass decanter and several goblets stood encrusted and cemented to
what had once been a table. It was a strange sight, never to be
forgotten.

With the axe I went about and stove in one after another all the doors,
except one which resisted my efforts. This door was made stronger than
the others, and was banded and barred with iron much rusted, and in
places so oxidized as to be mere streaks and stains of rust. I inferred
that here was the strong-room of the ship, and doubtless within its
precincts would be found whatever of treasure the galleon contained. I
reserved the opening of this apartment, which was located at the port
side of the rudder, until my companions should be present to share with
me the pleasure or disappointment that might result from a disclosure of
its contents. Having done this much I returned on deck and announced the
result of my investigations, and that I wanted all to be present at the
opening of the treasure chamber.

The old man waded to the vessel as I had done, and I took Alice in my
arms and carried her, helping her up to a footing on the deck. Duke, not
to be left behind, came plunging in and swam to the side, following his
mistress, and I helped him also on board. Then we all entered the cabin,
and I began at the door with the axe. At the second blow the blade went
through near the bottom of the door, and out gushed a stream of water
which poured down the slanting cabin-floor, draining away into one of
the berths. I enlarged this opening until the confined water flowed more
freely, and then we waited until it had drained out and ceased to flow.
I wished very much for the crowbar that I had seen in the hands of our
departed neighbors, but it had gone with them, and so I was fain to
continue the work with the axe. Little by little the barrier was
completely demolished and the chamber lay open before us.

There upon the floor was a great heap of something half filling the
room. With the axe I struck into it, and there shone out the yellow
lustre of gold. Mingled with a black, oxidized mass of silver, all glued
together, were great bars or bricks of the pure, indestructible,
untarnishable, precious metal, unchanged by all the time it had lain
sunken beneath the waters. It shone with the same dull yellow that it
had given back to the light so long ago. Iron might rust, the bolts and
bars might dissolve and fall away; the inferior silver might blacken,
soften, and change; but the noble gold was proof against time, and
against the insidious tooth of the bromides, the chlorides, and iodides,
and all the other salts that the sea held in solution in its mighty
waters. A simultaneous cry of delight from all went up at the sight. I
clasped my darling close in my arms and kissed her sweet lips.

“See,” cried I, “the gold! That means a home for us, my queen! It means
the redemption of the hills and valleys, the woodland and fields where I
was born, and where you shall rule, sweetheart!”

“It means very much to us, my son,” said the old man; “it is at once
your fortune and my daughter’s dowry. Think of the good that can be done
in the world by a proper use of this treasure which will be entrusted to
your care and stewardship.”

Duke came up and sniffed suspiciously at the pile, and turned away as
though disgusted at the whole business, and the exceeding bad taste of
his friends. While I had been chopping at the door the dog was in the
greatest state of excitement, expecting no doubt that some sort of game
would be unearthed. But as it proved, nothing came forth, not even a
chipmunk, and not even the stale scent of one. We all happened to be
looking at this display of canine wisdom, which was so significant and
so complete a commentary on the artificial character of the value
pertaining to what we had found, that the effect was irresistible. We
all burst into merry laughter, peal on peal, till the cabin of the old
craft rang with such a burst of hilarity, echoing through its cavernous
recesses, as it had not heard for centuries if ever before.

Now that the gold was found I was in a state of feverish anxiety to get
it out of the galleon. It seemed as though misfortune hung over us in
the cloudless sky. I could not hasten fast enough. The minutes seemed
hours. A great dread was upon me. I could not have slept while the
treasure remained where it lay. To my excited brain and wrought-up
imagination it seemed that the very ghosts of those who once owned the
gold would come to claim it. Though it would be days before the
pearl-fishers could get back, I could not avoid casting anxious glances
toward the western horizon. Mr. Millward appeared to partake in some
degree of this same anxious condition of mind. I am certain no two men
ever worked more freely up to the extent of their physical abilities
than we did that day. We loosened up and carried to Mr. Millward’s boat
the whole of the precious metal, more than a ton in weight including the
gold and silver together, and stowed it on a layer of canvas where it
might serve as ballast, clearing out the ballast that was already there,
and covered it over with the sail cloth of the tent, and over that a
layer of sand to conceal it all.

That night we slept on board the boat, and we began to feel the anxious
care of the charge that wealth brings. I got little sleep, and was
restless, and up and down all night. In the morning we began and
continued until late in the afternoon a systematic examination of the
entire interior of the galleon, searching for more treasure, but we
found nothing, and brought nothing more away from the wreck except the
pane of glass, and the decanter and goblets which I, for souvenirs,
removed at Alice’s request.

There was nothing more to keep us on the island; the weather was fair
and settled, the wind was favorable, and we might have started that
night, but Mr. Millward thought it would be wise to provision the boat
better and renew our water. Moreover, Alice expressed a wish to visit
once more our house that we might bid farewell to scenes which we might
never revisit. We therefore sailed for Home Creek in the sloop, leaving
my boat behind me as we should have no further occasion for it. We
reached the creek an hour before sunset, and moored the boat in her old
snug place. Nothing at the house had been disturbed. By the level rays
of the sun as he was about to sink behind the central plateau of the
island I lit a fire, and soon we had one started in the oven as well.
Then began the roasting, baking, and boiling, of pork and beans, bread,
yams, potatoes, coffee, and whatever we had in store. It was midnight
before we completed our task and went to bed.

Alice and her father slept at the house, and I made my bed in the boat,
the gun by my side, and Duke curled up at my head.

The last day on the island dawned clear and bright; the blue sky
unflecked by a single cloud hung high above; the favorable wind that we
had sighed for in vain at times was gently rustling through the foliage
and swaying the graceful palms; the myriad voices of Nature sounded all
about in the song of bird and hum of insect and boom of surf. When I
rose to greet the day I saw Alice standing on the porch in the full
sunlight, looking out at the sea all glistening as it was with light
from a million facets. Presently Mr. Millward came out, his white head
bare and his commanding figure erect and unbowed by years. They stood
together thus when I came up and joined the group.

There was little to do before we left. Our breakfast, for which we did
not light a fire, was soon over. Then we loaded on our provisions,
emptied and re-filled our water-gourds for the voyage, stored them, and
were ready to go. I dug up my pearls from their place of concealment.
Alice went into the house and brought out my nautilus-shell from the
mantel. We would leave all else as it was for the benefit possibly of
some shipwrecked successor, and carry away only what we needed for our
use upon the voyage.

Then together we three, followed by the faithful Duke, made a round of
visits to the various familiar places,--the salt-pan, incrusted now with
white salt; the shed, beneath whose shade we had toiled so hard and
passed so many pleasant hours; the house, the oven, the garden, now
luxuriant in its rich abundance of growth; the cocoanut grove,--and to
all bade a silent farewell. At the last, with tears in her sweet eyes,
Alice begged that I would walk with her down the beach and sit upon the
rock by the seaside as we had done once before in a time that now seemed
so long ago. When we reached the rock she put her arms about my neck and
said, “It was here I first knew I loved you, dear. I could not go away
without coming here with you to say good-by to the dear old island.”

Ah! fair Key Seven, good-by, good-by. How much of happiness do I owe
your friendly shores. Shine forth a gem of the sea. Smile ever in my
remembrance as on that fair morning when, clad in all your loveliness,
my bride and I bade farewell to your palms and sands and groves and
streams, and listened for the last time to the chorus of your birds.
Farewell, farewell. May we hope some day to come and visit these scenes
again, and open once more the gates of this earthly paradise before we
pass through the valley that leads us to the final home.

It was ten o’clock in the morning when we embarked and set sail from Key
Seven bound for Martinique, a fair wind wafting us over the sea, the
tinkling water at the bow and the broad wake behind speaking well for
the good speed we made. By two o’clock the island hung a trembling,
hazy, blue cloud in the west. We looked at it with regret filled with
sweet remembrance, as it sunk lower and lower and finally, fading away
out of sight, was gone from our view.

The run to Martinique was wholly uneventful, though it took us four days
to reach port, owing to the light winds. Throughout the voyage Mr.
Millward and I took turns at the helm, steering by the compass. Not a
single sail was sighted, and we drew into the old pier just four hours
before the steamer bound for New York made the port and tied up to the
same pier.

Mr. Millward went at once to the captain of the newly arrived vessel and
related enough of our story to apprise him of the nature of our cargo,
and the desire we had to get to New York with it as soon as possible.
The captain, a New Bedford man, came back with Mr. Millward to the boat,
and we then arranged for our passage and the safe carriage of our
treasure. The latter was stowed in canvas bags and sealed and weighed
under our supervision, and carried on board the steamer. Then my heart
grew lighter as the care of the treasure was lifted from my mind. We
secured ample insurance from the local underwriter, made arrangements
that the sloop should be sold and the proceeds sent to some of Mr.
Millward’s old parishioners in Jamaica, and then, just as the sun was
setting, embarked for New York and home.

My story is done, for all our trials and labors and troubles were then
over. Now we may ring the curtain down. But before it descends I may
invite you to look at the last tableau.

* * * * *

It is a summer’s day. The dust lies thick on the shady road. The katydid
rasps its musical wing in the tall elms which shade an old farmhouse. On
the porch, enjoying the faint breath of the evening air that comes
gently over the fields of yellow grain, and through the orchard where
the home-returning cows have stopped a moment, is a group consisting of
a white-haired old man, who smokes his pipe in quiet comfort, a young
man, and a beautiful young woman, at whose feet lies a noble Gordon
setter. It is the party whose story you have followed. This farmhouse
and these broad acres have been redeemed with long sunken Spanish gold.
It is a loving and a happy party, whose hearts beat kindly for each
other and for all.

The old man speaks:--

“My children, to-day is the anniversary of our departure from Key Seven.
Let us thank God for all the good gifts that have come to us from THE
SPANISH GALLEON.”

THE END.

* * * * *

THE BRIDGE OF THE GODS.

_A ROMANCE OF INDIAN OREGON._

By F. H. BALCH.

12mo, 280 pages. Price, $1.25.

This is a masterly and original delineation of Indian life. It is a
strong story, charged with the elemental forces of the human heart. The
author portrays with unusual power the intense, stern piety of the
ministers of colonial New England, and the strange mingling of dignity,
superstition, ferocity, and stoicism that characterized the early Indian
warriors.

There is no need of romancing, and Mr. Balch’s scenic descriptions are
for all practical purposes real descriptions. The legends he relates of
the great bridge which once spanned the Columbia, for which there is
some substantial history, adds to the mystical charms of the story. His
Indian characters are as real as if photographed from life. No writer
has presented a finer character than the great chief of the Willamettes,
Multnomah; Snoqualmie the Cayuse; or Tohomish the Seer. The night visit
of Multnomah to the tomb of his dead wife upon that lonely island in the
Willamette is a picture that will forever live in the reader’s
memory.... To those who have traversed the ground, and know something of
Indian character and the wild, free life of pioneer days, the story will
be charming.--_Inter-Ocean, Chicago._

It is a truthful and realistic picture of the powerful Indian tribes
that inhabited the Oregon country two centuries ago.... It is a book
that will be of value as a historical authority; and as a story of
interest and charm, there are few novels that can rival it.--_Traveller,
Boston._

There is much and deep insight in this book. The characters stand in
clear outline, and are original. The movement of the story is quick and
varied, like the running water of the great river.--_The Pacific, San
Francisco._

Its field is new for fiction; it is obviously the work of one who has
bestowed a great deal of study on the subjects he would illustrate. It
is very interesting reading, fluently written.--_Times, Chicago._

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

* * * * *

THE BEVERLEYS.

_A Story of Calcutta._

BY MARY ABBOTT,

Author of “Alexia,” etc.

12mo, 264 pages. Price, $1.25.

The uncommonly favorable reception of Mrs. Abbott’s brilliant novelette,
“Alexia,” by the public bespeaks in advance a lively interest in her new
novel, “The Beverleys.” It is a more extended and ambitious work than
the former, but has the same grace of style and liveliness of treatment,
together with a much more considerable plot and more subtle delineations
of character and life. The action of the story takes place in India, and
reveals on the part of the authoress the most intimate knowledge of the
official life of the large and aristocratic English colony in Calcutta.
The local coloring is strong and unusual.

A more joyous story cannot be imagined.... A harum-scarum good-nature; a
frank pursuit of cakes and ale; a heedless, happy-go-lucky spirit, are
admirable components in a novel, however trying they may be found in the
walks of daily life. Such are the pleasures of “The Beverleys.” To read
it is recreation, indeed.--_Public Ledger, Philadelphia._

The author writes throughout with good taste, and with a quick eye for
the picturesque.--_Herald, New York._

It is a pretty story, charmingly written, with cleverly sketched
pictures of various types of character.... The book abounds in keen,
incisive philosophy, wrapped up in characteristic remarks.--_Times,
Chicago._

An absorbing story. It is brilliantly and vivaciously
written.--_Literary World, Boston._

The author has until now been known, so far as we are aware, only by her
former story, “Alexia.” Unless signs fail which seldom _do_ fail, these
two with which her name is now associated are simply the forerunners of
works in a like vein of which American literature will have reason to be
proud.--_Standard, Chicago._

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

* * * * *

MARTHA COREY.

_A TALE OF THE SALEM WITCHCRAFT._

By CONSTANCE GODDARD DU BOIS.

12mo, 314 pages. Price, $1.25.

The same material drawn upon by Longfellow for his “New England
Tragedies” is here used with greater fulness and with no less historical
exactitude. The story has for its background the dark and gloomy
pictures of the witchcraft persecution, of which it furnishes a
thrilling view. It is remarkable for bold imagination, wonderfully rapid
action, and continued and absorbing interest.

In short, it is too good a piece of fiction to be accepted as truth,
which is to the credit of the author’s imaginative powers; for “Martha
Corey” is an absorbing tale.--_Public Ledger, Philadelphia._

The story is curious and quaint, differing totally from the novels of
this day; and the pictures of life among the early inhabitants of
Massachusetts show that the author has been an untiring and faithful
student for her work.--_Weekly Item, Philadelphia._

The characters are well delineated; the language is smooth and refined;
and from frequent change of scene and character the book is rendered
very entertaining. The passions, love and hate, are carefully analyzed
and faithfully described. It is a valuable little book.--_Globe,
Chicago._

An interesting tale of love and intrigue.... Miss Du Bois has given us a
very readable book, and has succeeded where others have
failed.--_Advertiser, Boston._

The story of this book is pleasantly told; and as a picture of those sad
times, when some of the worst and the best, of the darkest and the
brightest, of the most hateful and the most lovable traits of human
nature were openly manifested, is well worth reading.--_Illustrated
Christian Weekly, New York._

A story of marked strength, both of imagination and narration.--_Home
Journal, New York._

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

* * * * *

MONK AND KNIGHT.

An Historical Study in Fiction.

BY THE REV. DR. F. W. GUNSAULUS.

Two Vols. 12mo, 707 pages. Price, $2.50.

This work is one that challenges attention for its ambitious character
and its high aim. It is an historical novel,--or, rather, as the author
prefers to call it, “An Historical Study in Fiction.” It is the result
of long and careful study of the period of which it treats, and hence is
the product of genuine sympathies and a freshly-fired imagination. The
field is Europe, and the period is the beginning of the sixteenth
century,--a time when the fading glow of the later Renaissance is giving
place to the brighter glories of the dawning Reformation.

The book deals, in a broad sense, with the grand theme of the progress
of intellectual liberty. Many of its characters are well-known
historical personages,--such as Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, Cardinal
Wolsey, Henry VIII. of England, Francis I. of France, the disturbing
monk Martin Luther, and the magnificent Pope Leo X.; other characters
are of course fictitious, introduced to give proper play to the author’s
fancy and to form a suitable framework for the story.

Interwoven with the more solid fabric are gleaming threads of romance;
and bright bits of description and glows of sentiment relieve the more
sombre coloring. The memorable meeting of the French and English
monarchs on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, with its gorgeous pageantry
of knights and steeds and silken banners, and all the glitter and charm
of chivalry, furnish material for several chapters, in which the
author’s descriptive powers are put to the severest test; while the
Waldensian heroes in their mountain homes, resisting the persecutions of
their religious foes, afford some thrilling and dramatic situations.

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

* * * * *

THE STORY OF TONTY.

_AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE._

By Mrs. MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD.

12mo, 224 pages. Price, $1.25.

“The Story of Tonty” is eminently a Western story, beginning at
Montreal, tarrying at Fort Frontenac, and ending at the old fort at
Starved Rock, on the Illinois River. It weaves the adventures of the two
great explorers, the intrepid La Salle and his faithful lieutenant,
Tonty, into a tale as thrilling and romantic as the descriptive portions
are brilliant and vivid. It is superbly illustrated with twenty-three
masterly drawings by Mr. Enoch Ward.

Such tales as this render service past expression to the cause of
history. They weave a spell in which old chronicles are vivified
and breathe out human life. Mrs. Catherwood, in thus bringing out
from the treasure-houses of half-forgotten historical record things
new and old, has set herself one of the worthiest literary tasks of
her generation, and is showing herself finely adequate to its
fulfilment.--_Transcript, Boston._

A powerful story by a writer newly sprung to fame.... All the
century we have been waiting for the deft hand that could put flesh
upon the dry bones of our early heroes. Here is a recreation
indeed.... One comes from the reading of the romance with a
quickened interest in our early national history, and a profound
admiration for the art that can so transport us to the dreamful
realms where fancy is monarch of fact.--_Press, Philadelphia._

“The Story of Tonty” is full of the atmosphere of its time. It
betrays an intimate and sympathetic knowledge of the great age of
explorers, and it is altogether a charming piece of
work.--_Christian Union, New York._

Original in treatment, in subject, and in all the details of mise
en scene, it must stand unique among recent romances.--_News,
Chicago._

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

* * * * *

THE LAUREL-CROWNED LETTERS.

=The Best Letters of Lord Chesterfield.= Edited, with an
Introduction, by EDWARD GILPIN JOHNSON.

=The Best Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.= Edited, with an
Introduction, by OCTAVE THANET.

=The Best Letters of Horace Walpole.= Edited, with an Introduction,
by ANNA B. MCMAHAN.

=The Best Letters of Madame de Sévigné.= Edited, with an
Introduction, by EDWARD PLAYFAIR ANDERSON.

Each volume is finely printed and bound; 16mo, cloth, gilt tops,
price, $1.00.

In half calf or half morocco, per vol., $2.75.

* * * * *

Of LORD CHESTERFIELD’S LETTERS, the _Atlantic Monthly_ says:--

The editor seems to make good his claims to have treated these
letters with such discrimination as to render the book really
serviceable, not only as a piece of literature, but as a text-book
in politeness.

Of LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU’S LETTERS, the _New York Star_ says:--

The selection is indeed an excellent one, and the notes by the
present editor considerably enhance their value.

Of HORACE WALPOLE’S LETTERS, the _Philadelphia Public Ledger_ says:--

These witty and entertaining letters show Walpole to bear out the
promise of his fame,--the prince of letter-writers in an age which
elevated the occupation into a fine art.

Of MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ’S LETTERS, the _Boston Saturday Gazette_ says:--

Accomplished, witty, pure, Madame de Sévigné’s noble character is
reflected in her writings, which will always hold a foremost place
in the estimation of those who can appreciate high moral and
intellectual qualities.

_Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by_
A. C. MCCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS,
COR. WABASH AVE. AND MADISON ST., CHICAGO.

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