



Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen




[Illustration: cover art]




THE TREASURE OF THE "SAN PHILIPO"




_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_

THE "B.O.P." LIBRARY

The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's. By Talbot Baines Reed.
My Friend Smith. By Talbot Baines Reed.
A Dog with a Bad Name. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Tom, Dick, and Harry. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Sir Ludar. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Roger Ingleton, Minor. By Talbot Baines Reed.
The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch. By Talbot Baines Reed.
The Cock-House at Fellsgarth. By Talbot Baines Reed.
The Master of the Shell. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Reginald Cruden. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Parkhurst Boys. By Talbot Baines Reed.
Geoff. Blake: His Chums and His Foes. By S. S. Pugh.
North Overland with Franklin. By J. Macdonald Oxley.
The Mine Detector. By Frank Elias.

LONDON: 4 BOUVERIE STREET, E.C.




[Illustration: SUDDENLY THE AIR WAS FILLED WITH THE WILD YELLS OF THE
SAVAGES.]




THE TREASURE OF
THE "SAN PHILIPO"



BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN

AUTHOR OF "A LAD OF GRIT," ETC., ETC



LONDON "THE BOY'S OWN PAPER" OFFICE
4 BOUVERIE STREET, E.C.4




  CONTENTS
  CHAPTER
      I. THE LOG OF THE PRIVATEER "ANNE"
     II. THE WRECK
    III. UNCLE HERBERT'S NARRATIVE
     IV. THE CIPHER
      V. A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
     VI. THE "FORTUNA"
    VII. THE EXPEDITION SETS SAIL
   VIII. A RESCUE AT SEA
     IX. AN ADDITION TO THE CREW
      X. YARNS IN THE FIRST WATCH
     XI. THE RED SEA
    XII. AT THE TREASURE ISLAND
   XIII. WE FIND THE WRECK
    XIV. A TERRIBLE ORDEAL
     XV. THE DEFENCE OF THE TEMPLE
    XVI. TOUCH AND GO
   XVII. WE FIND THE TREASURE
  XVIII. COMMITTED TO THE DEEP
    XIX. THE CAVE
     XX. A GREAT CATASTROPHE
    XXI. CHECKMATE


  Illustrations

  SUDDENLY THE AIR WAS FILLED WITH THE WILD YELLS OF THE SAVAGES.
  The unsolved cipher.
  A magic square.
  A bigger magic square.
  THE SOLVED CIPHER.




THE TREASURE OF THE
"SAN PHILIPO"



Chapter I

THE LOG OF THE PRIVATEER "ANNE"


"REGGIE, my boy, I have a letter from Uncle Herbert."

"What does he say? Has he heard good news about the hidden treasure?

"Yes; but wait till after breakfast and you can read it."

I almost danced with delight at the information, vague as it
appeared, for during the last three months news of my uncle's
progress in search of the mysterious treasure that was to restore the
fortunes of the family had been disappointingly scarce; and, now that
there were indications of a flowing tide in our affairs, it was hard
to realize that success might be within measurable distance.

My story opens in the year 190--, when I was sixteen years of age,
and during the few years that have since elapsed I may truthfully
say, without boasting, that few boys have ever experienced a greater
amount of peril and adventure than has fallen to my lot in the search
for the "San Philipo" treasure.

My name is Reginald Trevena, and I live at Polruan, in a house that
has been in the possession of our family for centuries; for the
Trevenas are reckoned amongst the oldest stock in all Cornwall. Go
back to the time of the Spanish Armada; or the stirring wars of the
Great Rebellion, when Cornwall was the scene of many a sanguinary
conflict between Cavalier and Roundhead; or the equally exciting
period of the Napoleonic Wars; search the contemporary records of
those days, and I'll warrant you'll find a Trevena plays a
conspicuous and honourable part.

We are of an old seafaring family, and our house contains many
mementoes of our ancestors' prowess. For instance, there is the
silver-mounted sword presented to my great-grandfather, Jasper
Trevena, in recognition of his gallant and successful defence of the
Falmouth packet "Restormel Castle" against a French privateer of
twice its size; and another relic is the silver-braided cocked hat
worn by an ancestor, Humphrey Trevena, at the battle of Vigo Bay in
1702.

It is this Humphrey Trevena who is morally responsible for our search
for the "San Philipo" treasure. Briefly, the facts of the case are
these. Humphrey was apparently a rough sea-dog who tempered his
fierce roving spirit with a peculiar spice of superstition, which, at
that period, was rampant in Cornwall. In fact, even at the present
day, dread of the supernatural has a strong hold upon the poorer
classes of the Duchy, although modern education has done much to
banish the firm belief in witchcraft that our forefathers held.

But to return to Humphrey Trevena. From papers in our possession it
appears that in 170--, this sturdy sea-captain, who commanded the
privateer "Anne," of thirty guns, received orders from Commodore Sir
Charles Wager to make an independent cruise, in company with the
"Leopard," of twenty-four guns, to intercept a Spanish treasure-ship,
the "San Philipo," which was bound from Callao for Cadiz. The
Spaniard had a rich cargo, including fifteen chests of
pieces-of-eight, twenty sows of silver, and gold plate, the total
value being equivalent to £500,000 of our money.

The "San Philipo" arrived at Coquimbo in the month of May of that
year, and left on the following June 1. The "Anne" and her consort
passed through the Straits of Magellan early in the latter month, but
were shortly afterwards overtaken by a furious gale off the Madre de
Dios Archipelago, during which the two vessels lost touch with one
another. The "Leopard" alone rejoined Sir Charles Wager, and nothing
more was seen of the "Anne." Neither did the "San Philipo" reach
Cadiz. As far as information could be obtained from the Admiralty,
the history of the "Anne" comes to an abrupt termination; but we have
in our possession documents which prove conclusively, that Captain
Humphrey Trevena did achieve his purpose and intercept the "San
Philipo," contrary to popular belief.

The log of the "Anne" is before me as I write; scores of musty pages
covered with a crabbed handwriting, made all the more puzzling by
reason of the superfluity of flourishes that characterized the
literary style of the eighteenth century.

Though too lengthy and too complicated to quote in detail, some
portions leave little doubt as to what befell the "San Philipo." For
instance, "perceived the Spaniard well-down on our weather-bow. She
altered her course and stood N.W., we in hot pursuit." For nearly
three weeks this chase continued, during which time the "Anne," in
spite of her inferior size and armament, had driven the "San Philipo"
into the then practically unknown water of the Pacific.

Although to Cook, some seventy years later, belongs the honour of
having made this part of the globe really known to Europeans, there
are proofs that the early Spanish voyagers had navigated these
waters, the first of them being Juan Gaetano, who, in 1542, made the
first voyage of discovery, from New Spain to the coast of Asia.
Therefore, I take it, the captain, of the "San Philipo," unable to
regain the ports of the west coast of South America, tried to shake
off pursuit amongst the numerous coral reefs and islands of the
Pacific Ocean.

However, my ancestor goes on to relate how he effected the capture of
the "San Philipo" after a stubborn resistance. The "Anne" and her
prize made for a lagoon in order to refit; but the reef does not
afford the hoped-for protection, for, a gale springing up, the
treasure-ship sinks with its precious cargo still on board, while the
"Anne," driven south-east by a succession of tempests, is eventually
wrecked upon the desolate Chloe Islands, within a few miles of the
spot where she first sighted the "San Philipo."

Of the entire crew only Humphrey Trevena and two seamen reach the
shore alive, and, after terrible privations, are rescued by a Spanish
ship, and kept in captivity, till the Treaty of Utrecht in 1715
caused universal peace.

Now the mystery deepens. My ancestor describes the position, of the
wrecked treasure-ship in detail, save that he omits an all-important
item. "The island is not more than three leagues in circumference,
and is of irregular form. To the south-east is a hill of about 700
feet in height, its outline likened to a cat's head with its ears
cocked upright. The outer reef extends roughly a mile from the sandy
shore, the opening being visible when two miles from land. The 'San
Philipo' lies with her topmasts showing above water (though 'tis
certain they be not there now), but fifty fathoms from the western
extremity of the entrance, and from it the two headlands on the west
side of the island appear in line, and the highest part--_i.e._ that
which I have likened to a cat's ear--is directly above the mouth of a
vast cave."

This description would doubtless do equally well for a thousand
islands in the Pacific; but here the all-important item is
missing--the actual latitude and longitude.

That Humphrey Trevena fully intended to make an effort to regain the
hidden treasure there can be no possible doubt. Through an excess of
caution he prepared an elaborate cipher, giving the exact latitude
and longitude, and this he invariably carried about his person in a
watertight metal case; but, unfortunately, he met his death through a
fall over the cliffs near the Gribben, and when his body was washed
ashore the cipher was found on him.

In the natural sequence of events the secret should have come into
the possession of his son Gilbert, but, though the latter had the
cipher, neither the key nor the log could be found, though search was
made high and low, and the secret remained a secret. Vague rumours of
the existence of the "San Philipo" treasure floated about, but the
majority of Gilbert's friends regarded the whole business as a myth,
and the interest in the mystery gradually died out.

The box, with its undecipherable contents, still remained as a sort
of heirloom--for, with true Cornish superstition, the bygone members
of the Trevena family kept particular guard over the relic of the
redoubtable Humphrey--until the year 1850, when my father's uncle,
Ross Trevena, having suffered in the general ruin that overtook
Falmouth when steamships displaced the famous sailing packets of that
port, left Polruan and settled in the neighbourhood of Pernambuco, in
Brazil. Here he successfully engaged in coffee-planting, but at
length he dropped out of all communication with his relatives in
Cornwall, and on his death all trace of Humphrey's cipher were lost,
and the faint interest in the "San Philipo" treasure had apparently
flickered out.

But, by a pure accident, a new light was shed upon the mystery, and a
clue furnished which led to my Uncle Herbert's hurried visit to
Pernambuco. Before relating, however, the strange circumstances of
the recovery of the log of the "Anne," I must give some particulars
of the present actors in this stirring drama.

My father, Howard Trevena, is a typical Cornishman. Tall,
broad-shouldered, and possessing an unusual amount of strength, he
has a reputation in this part of the Duchy for manliness, good
nature, and a love of outdoor recreation, his skill as a yachtsman
being well known all along this dangerous coast betwixt the Lizard
and Portland Bill.

To me he appeared more in the light of a companion than that of a
parent, for, from my earliest recollections, I invariably accompanied
him, whether it were, as frequently happened, on a cruise in our
ten-ton cutter "Spray." or on a camping tour along the rock-bound
coast of North Cornwall, or a cycling tour through other counties of
our own country, or even on a ramble afoot amongst the magnificent
hills surrounding our home. Although I fully recognize the respect
due to my father, I am proud of the complete confidence that exists
between us, for he has often expressed the opinion that a parent can
make no greater mistake than to treat his sons as children when they
are fast verging upon manhood.

My mother died when I was but an infant, so that event, in a measure,
accounts for the close companionship between my father and me. And
with us, till within a few months ago, lived my Uncle Herbert. He
resembled my father in several ways; the swarthy complexion, the
close-cut crisp hair, the firm jaw, almost approaching what might be
described as "heavy," the steel-blue eyes--all denoted the strain of
the Trevenas.

Our house, the ancestral home for centuries past, stands a short
distance from the road from Polruan to Lanteglos, on a lofty hill
overlooking Fowey Harbour. It is a long rambling building of Cornish
granite, with the usual stone roof, the mullioned windows being
almost hidden in summer by a wealth of crimson roses. The garden, of
considerable extent, terminates at the edge of a steep declivity, the
foot of which is washed by the tidal waters of the harbour. In one
corner of the garden stood a wooden summer-house, built, so the tale
goes, from the timbers of an old Dutch frigate, which was captured
and brought into Fowey Harbour during the sanguinary sea-fights of
Cromwellian times. In front of this summer-house was erected a white
flag-staff; with crosstrees, gaff, topmast, shrouds, and halliards
complete, from which flew the burgee and blue ensign of the yacht
club to which my father belonged.

You will notice that I used the word "stood" when describing the
summer-house, for it was owing to the fact that the structure ceased
to be that we came into possession of the log, of the illfated
"Anne."

It happened thus: Six months previously, (it was the 5th of November,
as a matter of fact) there was a bonfire and fireworks display in
our village, and, alarmed by the noise, an enormous black cat took
refuge in its terror in our summerhouse. The animal's owner, Mrs.
Penibar, a portly old dame, enlisted our services in its recapture,
and, armed with lanterns, my father, Uncle Herbert, and I made for
its hiding-place.

Right across the summer-house, on a level with the eaves, ran a
massive beam, seemingly out of all proportion to the rest of the
woodwork, and resting on this beam were several short spars, coils of
rope, and other gear belonging to our boat.

Here the cat had taken up its position, and, with arched back and
bristling fur, defied all attempts at pacification, spitting and
growling in its fright. Neither my father nor my uncle had the
inclination to tackle the brute, so the owner, using extraordinary
and ridiculous terms of endearment, placed a short ladder, against
the beam, and ponderously began the ascent.

Even its mistress's blandishments were futile, for the cat, backing
along the beam, still growled defiance. So Mrs. Penibar, mounting to
the fourth rung from the top, leaned sideways along the beam and
attempted to seize her pet.

Suddenly there was an appalling crash, a shriek, and, amid a shower
of dust and plaster, the old lady fell heavily to the ground, and by
the feeble glimmer of our lantern we saw that the massive beam had
broken as cleanly as if shorn by an axe.

Fortunately there were no bones broken, and, by dint of our united
efforts, we managed to extricate the frightened old lady and carry
her to her house.

Next morning I arose early and went to examine the debris of the
summer-house. Only the walls remained; the beam, deceptive in its
apparent solidity, had been hollowed out, and, by natural decay, had
gradually become rotten, till the unusual weight of Mrs. Penibar's
portly frame had caused it to break, bringing down the roof with it.

All at once my quick eye detected some peculiar object that was half
hidden in the heap of rubbish, and, drawing it out, I discovered that
it was an old book, bound in rough leather, that was covered in
mildew.

Without waiting to examine its contents I hastened back to the house,
meeting my father and Uncle Herbert on the threshold as they were
about to leave for their usual morning swim--a practice they followed
winter and summer alike.

"My word, Reggie! what have you got there?" inquired my father,
taking the book out of my hands. For a few moments he looked at its
contents in silence, turning over a few musty pages; then, so
suddenly that it quite astonished me, he slapped my uncle vigorously
on the back, exclaiming, "My word, Herbert, it is the long-lost log
of the 'Anne'!"

That day, I remember, the morning swim did not take place, and I was
allowed to remain away from the Grammar School at Fowey, and the
whole morning was spent in deciphering Humphrey Trevena's faded
handwriting, and by night we were in possession of the salient facts
concerning the "San Philipo" treasure, though the cipher, giving the
latitude and longitude of the island, was alone wanting to complete
the information necessary for the recovery.

Good news, like bad, seldom comes alone, and our case was no
exception, for next morning my father received a communication asking
him to call upon Rook and Pay, a well-known firm of solicitors in
Plymouth. On paying the requested visit he learned, to his unbounded
astonishment, that his cousin, Ross Trevena's only son, had died
childless at Pernambuco, and that a reputable firm of Brazilian
lawyers had written to the Plymouth firm, requesting that they
should, if possible, find the nearest legal representative of Ross's
son.

"We are the sole surviving descendants of old Humphrey Trevena now,"
I heard my father remark to his brother, on his return from Plymouth,
"and, if it is humanly possible, I mean to have a shot at that
treasure. Old Rook hinted pretty plainly that there are several
heirloom, and the value of the estate, though not abnormal, is worth
having. I think the best thing to be done is for you to run over to
Pernambuco and get the Brazilian lawyers, Sarmientos, to wind up the
estate as quickly as possible. I have little doubt but that you will
be able to lay your hands on Humphrey's cipher, for Ross is certain
never to have left the metal box out of his possession, and if his
son was a chip of the old block, as in all probability is the case,
he will have done likewise."

These were the circumstances under which my uncle set out for Brazil,
and after an interval of three months, my father informed me, as I
have previously mentioned, "Reggie, my boy, I have heard from Uncle
Herbert."




Chapter II

THE WRECK


IT was not a long letter that Uncle Herbert wrote; but, on the other
hand, it was to the point--


  DEAR HOWARD,--

  At last I have had this affair settled, and by the time you receive
  this I hope to be on my way home.

  Old Humphrey's cipher, together with several other interesting old
  documents, is now in my possession, but I am afraid that we are not
  out of the wood yet, as the cipher requires a lot of puzzling out.

  Chappell, an English mining engineer out here, who has done me good
  service as an interpreter, tells me that all sorts of vague rumours
  are flying about regarding my presence in Pernambuco, and advises
  me to take great care both of myself and the papers while I am
  here. I wonder why?

  However, there's no need to write more, as I hope to be back again
  in dear old Polruan ere long. I've had a draft sent on to the Devon
  and Cornwall Bank, representing the cash part of the business, as I
  think it's safer.

  Love to Reggie, and remembrances to any friends you run across.

                      HERBERT.


With Humphrey Trevena's cipher, as well as the long-lost log, in our
possession, the outlook certainly seemed more hopeful, and both my
father and I looked eagerly forward to my uncle's return. "Just like
him, not to say by what boat he's coming," grumbled my father
good-naturedly. "I suppose he'll turn up like the proverbial bad
ha'penny."

A few days after the receipt of my uncle's letter, I went for a
ramble along the cliffs towards Polperro. It was about seven in the
evening when I started. All day a thick white mist had hung over the
sea, but just before I set out on my walk the mist disappeared with
remarkable suddenness, and a strong southerly wind began to send the
heavy rollers thundering against the cliffs. As twilight deepened
into night, I could see the double half-minute flash of the
Eddystone, till a cloudbank obscured the friendly light.

"We're in for a dirty night," I remarked to myself in nautical
parlance, and the dark-brown sails of the fishing-boats, showing
dimly against the white-crested waves as they ran for shelter,
supported my supposition. Before I reached home the storm was at its
height, the wind howling over our chimney-pots in spite of the
comparatively sheltered position of the house.

"Your Uncle Herbert will be having a lively time of it, if he is
anywhere near the Channel," remarked my father, while we were at
supper.

"Yes; but it doesn't matter so much on a liner," I replied. "It's the
fishing-boats and small coasters that suffer as a rule in these
gales."

"That's true; so long as the navigation lights are visible, steamers
have little to fear. But, my word! Crosbie was bringing his
ten-tonner round from Falmouth to-day. I wonder how he got on. I
suppose you didn't notice her in the harbour as you came across?"

"You mean the 'Dorothy'? No, she wasn't on her moorings at five
o'clock."

"It's too late to make inquiries at the club," replied my father,
consulting his watch. "But I think I'll stroll up to the coastguard
station and ask if she has been seen. Put on your oilskins, Reggie,
and come too--that is, if you don't mind the rain."

Together we toiled up the steep path that led up to the coastguard
look-out hut, and every step towards the hill brought us more exposed
to the howling wind and the biting rain, till we were glad to gain
the shelter of a rough cairn that served as a wind-screen.

Out of the darkness loomed an object that resolved itself into the
coastguard on duty, who, clad in oileys and sou'-wester, kept
faithful watch and ward on this exposed and bleak position.

"Good evening, McCallum."

"Good evening, sir; it blows a bit fresh to-night."

"Anything startling?"

"Not so far as I knows of, sir; all the boats 'ave come in."

"That's something to be thankful for," remarked my father. "But has
anything been seen or heard of Mr. Crosbie's 'Dorothy'? I believe she
is making a passage from Falmouth to-day."

"Mr. Crosbie ain't no mug at the game," replied the man. "Strikes me
he's either put back or run into Mevagissey."

"I hope so, too," rejoined my father; and the conversation, which had
been conducted by sheer strength of lungs, owing to the howling of
the wind, ceased, and we relapsed into complete silence.

From our position we could see both within and without the harbour;
and what a contrast! Within the harbour, though the waves caused a
nasty "lop," the twinkling lights of Fowey, and the oscillating
anchor-lamps of scores of weather-bound vessels in the Pool, caused
quite a glare in the dark, rain-laden sky; while seaward, as far as
the mirk allowed one to see, was one confused tumble of white-crested
waves, which, with a noise that was heard above the singing of the
wind, hurled themselves against the rockbound cliffs, sending up
columns of white spray, that burst in hissing showers over our
shelter, 200 feet above the sea. Not the faintest glimmer of a ship's
light was visible, and only the blinking eye of St. Catherine's gave
out its warning red flash to break the awful desolation of the raging
waves.

"Bitterly cold for May," shouted my father into my ear. "We are doing
no good by stopping here."

"Good-night, McCallum," he added, turning towards the coastguardsman;
but at that moment a pale blue light flashed upwards in the darkness.

Instantly the look-out man became the personification of alertness.
With his night-glass bearing in the direction of the light he waited
till the signal was repeated; then, doubling across the open ground
between us and the signal-hut, he proceeded to "ring up" the rest of
the detachment.

"A vessel in distress!" exclaimed my father; and, following the
coastguardsman, we entered the hut to gain further information.

"There's a ship ashore on the Cannis. Message just through from the
Gribben. Mevagissey and Polkerris lifeboats called out, and our men
to patrol the cliffs between Point Neptune and Pridmouth," reported
the man with the abruptness of years of discipline. "If you wants to
see anything of the business, sir, our chaps 'll put you across, for
'tain't likely there'll be any watermen about this sort of night."

"We may as well make a night of it, Reggie," remarked my father,
"though I am afraid we cannot be of much practical use. Run home as
hard as you can, and bring as many biscuits as you can stow in your
pockets, and rejoin me at the ferry. We may be hungry before
morning."

I did as I was bid, and five minutes later we were crossing the
harbour in the stern-sheets of a Service gig, the boat plunging
violently in the short, steep seas.

On landing at White House steps (for, owing to the flood tide, it was
impossible to make Ready Money Cove), we found that the news of the
catastrophe had already spread, and crowds of people were hurrying
along the road leading to the Gribben. Staggering against the furious
gusts, we crossed the head of the Cove, finding temporary shelter in
the wooded <DW72>s of Point Neptune; but, on gaining the high ground
at the back of St. Catherine's lighthouse, we were in full view of
the sea, only a low fence of wire netting separating the rough path
from the edge of the cliffs, against which the waves tumbled a
hundred feet below.

It must have been close on two o'clock when we reached the base of
the Gribben day-mark, around which were gathered about two hundred
persons--fishermen, coastguards, and civilians--all of whom were
looking intently seaward towards the Cannis, a half-submerged rock
lying a quarter of a mile from shore.

There was nothing to be seen, for the darkness was too intense, while
the signals of distress had long since been discontinued--the absence
of which gave rise to the most despondent conjectures.

"'Tain't no good waitin' 'ere," grumbled one of the onlookers, a
pensioned coastguardsman. "She's broke up hours ago."

"Supposin' some of they chaps comes ashore?"

"What can us do for the likes o' they?" replied the first speaker
contemptuously. "Why, with this tide a-makin' to the west'ard,
they'll all be corpses long afore they reaches shore. Even if they
don't, there's the rocks----" and with a shrug of the shoulders that
conveyed a significant meaning, the sentence remained unfinished.

Slowly the day dawned, but the fury of the gale did not abate,
although the wind shifted more to the south-west. The old
coastguardsman was right: the ship had "broke up," and not a vestige
remained.

"What time be 'igh water?" asked one of the men.

"A quarter to five, George," replied another. "See, the lifeboats are
off 'ome."

"Do you happen to know the name of the vessel?" asked my father.

"No, sir, we don't; and what's more, we can't make out 'ow she got in
there, unless it was she couldn't make out the leadin' lights."

"I think we may as well make for home, Reggie," said my father.
"There's nothing to be seen, and no good to be done."

We descended the headland, and reached the sea-level at Pridmouth
beach, where the waves were tumbling in heavily, though, owing to the
shift of wind, with not so much violence. Under the shelter of a
friendly rock, we rested for nearly half an hour, making a sorry meal
from the biscuits my father had been thoughtful enough to remind me
to bring.

On resuming our way we had just passed the cottages near the grotto,
and were about to take the steep path leading to the top of the
cliffs on the other side of the little bay, when, a well-known voice
shouted--

"Wait a bit, Howard!"

We both turned round, and, to our intense astonishment, within five
yards of us stood my Uncle Herbert.

Coatless, hatless, and clad only in a pair of trousers that were much
too small for him, a grey shirt, and a pair of canvas shoes, he
looked like a regular tramp, while a strip of linen bound round his
forehead half concealed his features. Yet it was Uncle Herbert, sure
enough, and we stood still in speechless surprise.

"Is that all you have to say to a fellow?" he exclaimed, wringing my
father's hand.

"However, in the name of all that's wonderful, did you get here?"
asked my father.

"Come ashore from the wreck, of course," he replied, speaking as if
it were an everyday occurrence.

"I am afraid you are the only one who did so. Where did you get that
rig-out?"

"At yonder cottage. They were awfully kind to me. But let's make for
home, for I'm terribly tired, hungry, and knocked about. I'll tell
you everything later on."

We began to ascend a steep, tree-fringed path that led up from
Pridmouth Bay to the top of the cliffs, and I noticed that my uncle
limped painfully. Without speaking a word, my father helped him over
the stile, then, one on each side of him, we assisted his halting
footsteps.

In this manner we slowly negotiated two fields; and at length came to
a hollow, where a rifle-range is situated. Here the cliffs were not
more than twenty feet in height, and the sea was sweeping over the
exposed pathway. It was now broad daylight, though the sun was hidden
by fleeting masses of cloud, and the wind still blew furiously,
whistling through the barley and young shoots of corn.

"We shall never be able to get him up this next rise without
assistance, Reggie," said my father, glancing at his wellnigh
helpless brother. "Just run to the top of the cliff and see if any
one is in sight."

Running, while clad in oilskins, is hot and tiring work, and I was
almost breathless when I reached the highest part of the cliff path.
Not a creature was in sight, so I began to return. Just at that
moment, in some bushes to the side of the path, there was a movement,
and I caught a momentary glimpse of a face I shall never forget.

A man was lying full length in the gorse. He had evidently been
watching us as we descended the hollow. He was without doubt a
foreign sailor, judging by his olive complexion, black eyes, long
hair, and the large earrings he wore. He was clad in a red shirt,
blue trousers, and red stocking cap, while round his waist was a
soiled leather belt, from which hung a sheath-knife in a long
pig-skin case, and by the saturated state of his clothes and his
matted hair I knew he had been in the water. But for an instant he
eyed me with a look of diabolical rage on his face, then, springing
to his feet, he rushed past and sped towards the town, leaving me
standing in bewilderment at the strange apparition.

However, I did not mention the matter when I returned, for it was
evident that there were more important things to consider.

"There's no help for it," said my father when I told him of the
uselessness of my errand. "We must manage it somehow. Come along,
Herbert, old boy," he added encouragingly. "Buck up, and you'll soon
be safely home."

My uncle struggled gamely to his feet, and the tedious progress was
resumed, but ere we had gone a few steps he suddenly staggered and
fell unconscious to the ground.

Thereupon I saw my father perform a feat of strength and endurance
which, strong as he was, utterly astonished me. Throwing off his
oilskins, he bent down, and, hauling his brother's inanimate form
upon his broad back, raised himself and set off at a rapid pace
towards Fowey, I struggling in the rear, though I carried nothing but
his discarded coat.

Up the steep path he pressed, without pausing a moment; as
sure-footed as a goat he trod the narrow way, made additionally
dangerous by reason of the slime, and, in less than half an hour,
gained the town, never resting till he placed his burden on the steps
of the ferry.

Willing hands helped us lift my uncle out of the boat, and,
accompanied by a doctor, and followed by a pair of reporters and a
knot of curious onlookers, the little procession reached my father's
house, my uncle's strange escape from the sea being a subject of much
conjecture and not a little romance.

"Absolute quietness is essential," was the doctor's mandate, and in
obedient silence our neighbours went away, the reporters following,
on hearing that no details were forthcoming, to prepare a column of
sensational copy based on the flimsiest material imaginable.

Worn out with my night's vigil, I turned in before noon and slept
like a top till the following morning. My father watched by the
patient's bedside till nearly midnight, when, satisfied that there
was no cause for serious anxiety, and that the expected symptoms of
brain fever had not shown themselves, he allowed himself to be
persuaded to snatch a few hours' sleep; but before I was awake he was
up and about, showing no signs of the physical and mental strain he
had undergone.

Uncle Herbert, too, was awake, and beyond complaining of a slight
stiffness, refused to admit that he was ill. No mention of the
shipwreck had passed between the brothers, but my father, taking me
aside, told me that it was surmised that the unfortunate ship was the
"Andrea Doria," that being the name painted on a couple of lifebuoys
and a shattered whaler that had been washed ashore at Pridmouth Bay,
and that my uncle was the only survivor.

"The only survivor?" I repeated. "Then where did that foreign-looking
sailor come from?"

"What foreign sailor was that?" inquired my father, and, having told
him of my encounter with the mysterious stranger on the cliff, he
remarked--

"I wonder what his little game is."

The doctor called again in the afternoon and pronounced his patient
out of danger; and, free from the ban of silence, Uncle Herbert began
his narrative.




Chapter III

UNCLE HERBERT'S NARRATIVE


"NO doubt you wondered why I returned home by the vessel which came
to a bad ending on the Cannis, instead of by the regular mail
service. However, before explaining why I took this apparently
erratic step, I'll tell you about the documents I obtained from
Sarmientos. First and foremost there was the cipher, still preserved
in the little metal box. I have not got it here; but, thank goodness,
it's safe enough in the keeping of the cottagers at Pridmouth, the
same people who kindly lent me the garb in which I made my appearance
to you. There's not much in it to look at, but in all probability we
shall find it a tough nut to crack. It is a piece of parchment, on
which is drawn a square, subdivided into over two hundred smaller
squares, most of which are blank, but a few contain various
hieroglyphics, and the vague directions, 'steer nor'-east.' However,
we will go into that when we get it. The other papers, which,
unfortunately, were stolen----"

"Stolen?" exclaimed my father anxiously.

"Yes, stolen; but I was going to say that they were of no apparent
value--merely a sort of diary kept by Ross Trevena during his
residence in Brazil, the title-deeds of his plantation at San Antonio
de Riachaya, a few indentures, and an old piece of parchment, covered
with figures--apparently a sort of ready-reckoner.

"As I told you in my last letter, the natives did not appear to
appreciate my presence in Pernambuco, or, rather, in the outskirts,
for San Antonio is about four miles from the city. Once the
_hacienda_ where I was staying was broken into, but the intruders
were foiled by Chappell's bulldog, Chappell being, by the way, an
English engineer with whom I became friendly, and he happened to be
staying with me at the time of the attempted burglary. Twice I was
set upon by a party of Brazilians, but the sight of the muzzle of a
revolver cooled their ardour, and one night as I was sitting in the
patio a pistol bullet whizzed unpleasantly close to my head. Why they
bestowed these attentions on me I cannot imagine, unless they had a
mistaken idea that I had a secret hoard or a clue to a treasure
somewhere in the district. Possibly they do not realize that it is a
far cry from Brazil to the Islands of the Pacific.

"However, under the circumstances, I thought that the best thing I
could do was to clear out as quickly as possible, and, as it
happened, an Italian tramp, the 'Andrea Doria,' was about to sail
direct to Fowey to load up with china clay. She wasn't a bad sort of
vessel, as foreigners go, being built so lately as 1893, and her
captain and officers were quite decent fellows, especially from a
social point of view. Probably you remember the 'old man,' Luigi
Righi; he's been in this harbour several times, but, poor chap, I'm
afraid he won't enter again, unless his corpse is carried in by the
tide. The crew were all Italian, excepting a couple of Brazilians
shipped to replace some of the men who had deserted at Bahia. Well,
we cleared out of the harbour, high in ballast, and had an
uneventful run until we sighted the Longships, and here we fell in
with thick weather, which ended up with a regular southerly gale.

"We were able to catch only a glimpse of the Lizard lights, then
everything was blotted out in the mirk. I stayed up all night,
keeping on the bridge with the skipper and the second mate. About 11
p.m. the captain decided we were too close in shore, and telegraphed
to the engine-room to slow down to half-speed, intending to keep well
out until he could pick up the Eddystone lights, so I came to the
conclusion that he thought it safer to make for Plymouth rather than
enter Fowey Harbour in such a gale.

"Just as our helm was put hard-a-port, I saw a huge wave bearing down
on our starboard bow. It burst over our fo'c'sle in a solid mass,
carrying away everything movable, and, hearing a warning shout from
the captain, I cowered behind the canvas storm-dodgers, and held on
like grim death. The crest of the wave swept the bridge, tearing away
the greater part of the rail and the ladder, and with the former went
the mate. I could just distinguish his cry of terror above the
howling of the gale. The captain slid down one of the bridge
stanchions, and, needless to say, I followed suit, and on gaining the
shelter of the wheel-house we found that the steam steering-gear had
broken down. Almost at the same moment the chief engineer rushed on
deck reporting four feet of water in the engine-room, and the
quartermaster, staggering along from aft, announced that the loss of
the rudder had caused an alarming leak in the after-hold.

"The skipper seemed calm enough, for he translated his subordinate's
reports to me; but a few minutes afterwards up came the
panic-stricken engine-room staff, gesticulating, and calling on all
the saints in the calendar, while from the engine-room-hatch poured a
thick cloud of steam, and immediately afterwards the dull throb of
the propeller ceased, and we were helpless in the trough of the sea.

"It seemed hours that we drifted in utter helplessness, sea after sea
breaking in, carrying away all the boats on the starboard side,
while, by the vessel's sluggishness in shaking herself free, I knew
she was sinking fast.

"Something prompted me to go below and secure the precious papers,
but on gaining my berth I found the cabin door had been forced open
and the place hurriedly ransacked, all my personal belongings being
scattered on the floor. There were no signs of the documents, though
luckily I had the box containing the cipher sewn in my waistbelt. At
first thoughts I came to the conclusion that the motion of the vessel
had caused the disorder in the cabin, but the sight of the two locked
portmanteaux cut open, apparently with a sharp knife, destroyed this
theory. In spite of the peril of the situation, I argued that, if
robbery had been the motive, the papers, being of no apparent value,
would have been overlooked; but further search showed that there was
some deliberate reason that had induced the thief to take them.

"In the midst of my hurried search came a shock that made the vessel
shudder so violently that I was thrown against the for'ard bulkhead
of the cabin. The ship was aground.

"I sprang forward to rush on deck, but, to my horror, I found that
the cabin-door had jammed in its frame and I was a prisoner.

"I remember once, when I was a small boy (you were not there at the
time), our pet cat was caught by its head in a jug while trying to
steal some milk. How I laughed at the wretched creature's antics, as
in an agony of fright it tore round the room with the jug adhering
firmly to its head. Poor brute! It has my sympathy now, for its state
of mind must have been very much like mine when I found myself
trapped in the cabin of the sinking ship.

"I was mad with terror. Shouting, I flung myself again and again at
the unyielding door, pounding at it with my fists, till, with my
knuckles streaming with blood, I was obliged to desist through sheer
exhaustion.

Suddenly the doomed vessel listed heavily to port, and I threw myself
bodily against the door in a forlorn effort. The framework crashed
outwards, and I fell ponderously into the alleyway, where I lay in a
half-conscious condition till a rush of water flooding the narrow
passage brought back my scattered senses.

"I managed to squeeze through the partially closed companion and gain
the deck. The scene of confusion had increased with all the horrors
of shipwreck. A few of the less-frenzied members of the crew had lit
a tar-barrel, and by the vivid glare of the flames I saw a crowd of
half-maddened seamen making a rush for the sole remaining lifeboat.

"In the desperate struggle knives flashed, but whether it was by
steel or by water that the wretched, demented creatures met their
fate matters little, for directly the boat was lowered it was crushed
like an eggshell against the ship's side. There was a short yet
terrible shriek of terror, and then the noise of Nature's weapons
alone was heard.

"The surviving members of the crew sent up a few rockets, and, in
spite of the peril of our situation, we felt cheered by the answering
flash from a rocket ashore, and at about the same time the atmosphere
cleared somewhat, and I saws a red light giving a double flash at
quick intervals.

"Then I knew by the irony of fate that this was St. Catherine's
light, and that we were cast on the rocks within sight of home.

"All this time the ship was breaking up fast, and, as wave after wave
swept over the doomed vessel, the little knot of survivors grew
steadily less, the men being so numbed with continued exposure that
they retained no strength to resist their relentless fate.

"I could see that the longer I held on, the more chance there would
be of the breaking dawn helping, so that the possibilities of
reaching shore in safety would be correspondingly greater, though I
had sad misgivings of ever gaining dry land, alive.

"However, I lashed myself securely to a fife-rail, which seemed the
least likely to carry away, making a simple hitch, so as to cast
myself adrift at the critical moment. The vessel had now listed to
such an extent that walking would have been an impossibility, while
the remaining portion of the ship trembled under the violent shocks
as waves struck the gaping sides and fell in a green cascade over the
miserable wretches who cowered to lee'ard.

"At length, after hours of interminable waiting, as it seemed, a grey
light began to break over the awful scene, and, looking landwards, I
saw the misty outline of the Gribben, though, of course, there were
no people visible, neither could they have seen us in that dim light.

"The ship had struck within a hundred yards of the Cannis rock, and
in the trough of the breaking seas I could make out the iron standard
of the danger beacon, a mockery in our present state.

"At that moment something prompted me to look sideways to see how my
fellow-sufferers fared, and to my surprise I made out the figure of
one of the Brazilian seamen crawling cautiously towards me. In the
semi-darkness I saw that in his right hand he grasped a knife; then,
before I could realise the situation, he made a vicious thrust at me
with the glittering steel. Even as he did so, the deck seemed to
burst upwards, and the miscreant stumbled. The knife fell, but not
where it was intended, and, descending on the rope that held me to
the rail, it severed it like pack-thread, and the next moment I found
myself struggling in the waves.

"I must have been swept across the deck with considerable force, for
some time elapsed before I reached the surface, and it was with
mingled feelings of despair and exultation that I began to strike out
for the shore.

"'Cheer up, Herbert, old man!' I continually exclaimed to myself.
'Everything helps to set you shorewards--wind, waves, and your own
efforts. Better be drowned than perish by a knife-thrust, anyway.'
And then, in the midst of these encouragements, I thought of the
pitiless rocks, and, knowing them as I did, I could form a pretty
sure idea of my fate. Just then I noticed something that filled me
with renewed hope. The ship was aground, as I have related, within a
hundred yards of the Cannis, and now I saw that I was not cast over
that jagged rock, but had been borne well to the eastward of it, so
that there was a hope--a mere fighting chance--of being swept into
the comparatively sheltered waters of Pridmouth Bay.

"I continued to strike out with swift strokes, relying on my strength
to last till I reached shore, and my ability to withstand the cold.

"Slowly I neared the shore till the bold headland of the Gribben was
abreast, and I had all my work cut out to keep parallel to the ledge
of rocks on its eastern side and to prevent myself being swept away
from the mouth of the little bay; and, in spite of my efforts, I felt
the numbing effects of the icy water gradually telling on my
exhausted limbs. How long I kept on swimming I cannot tell, for my
actions had become more or less mechanical, till in the trough of an
enormous roller I felt my feet touch bottom.

"In another moment I was in the midst of the broken seas, and
alternately thrown violently shorewards by one wave and washed back
by the undertow, without possessing the strength to save myself, I
realized dimly that the little remaining breath I had was being
dashed out of my body. Yet in the midst of it all I felt no actual
pain, neither did I seem to mind the danger. A vague, unaccountable
sensation of indifference gave place to a rapid succession of mental
pictures. In a few seconds I had lived my life once again. In times
past I have scoffed at similar statements, but now I know it for a
fact.

"My last impression of that awful struggle was that I was lying in
the soft, yielding sand, with the backwash pouring over me, and the
dull roar of an approaching breaker. Then came the crash of the
falling cataract, the flash of thousands of brilliant lights, and
complete oblivion.

"When I opened my eyes I found myself lying on a rough wooden stool
in the garden of a cottage, and a couple of men were chafing my limbs
with rough towels. My head throbbed horribly, and I was aware that
there was a bandage tied tightly over my temples, from which the
blood trickled in a little stream down my face.

"Directly they saw I had come to my senses they carried me over to
the cottage, stripping off my wet clothes, and put me into a bed;
but, in spite of a dizzy sensation, I soon insisted on getting up, my
one desire being to make for home as fast as I could.

"Seeing that I was terribly in earnest, the men rigged me out in some
dry clothes, and left me with the intention of borrowing a pony and
cart from a neighbouring house; but directly they had gone, a sudden
impulse seized me--possibly I was temporarily out of my mind--and I
staggered out of the cottage, without reckoning on the long walk home
in my tottering condition; but fortunately for me, I had not gone
many yards before I saw you and Reggie on ahead, and the rest you
know."

"You always were a hare-brained rascal in some respects," remarked my
father; "and there was a great possibility of your pegging out
through sheer exhaustion, in which case there would have been no
survivors from the ill-fated 'Andrea Doria.'"

"Then I suppose I am the only survivor?" asked my uncle.

"I have every reason to believe so," replied my father sadly.

"I think not--at least, I believe I'm right," I exclaimed. "But I
didn't like to interrupt Uncle Herbert at the time." And thereupon I
told him about my meeting with the foreign-looking sailor on the
cliff.

"Yes, I remember you mentioned the circumstance to me," remarked my
father. "But why do you suppose the man was a member of the crew of
the 'Andrea Doria'? Foreign sailors are not unusual in Fowey."

"But foreigners in saturated clothes do not generally lie concealed
in long grass early in the morning."

"What was he like?" asked Uncle Herbert anxiously.

"That's the man to a certainty," declared my uncle decisively, when I
had completed the description. "Paulo, they called him. He was one of
the two Brazilians we had aboard, and he it was who tried to stab me
with a knife."

"Why?"

"That's where you have me. I cannot even guess--unless he was after
the cipher."

"Then possibly it was he who stole the papers from your cabin?"

"More than likely. Mark my words, Howard, there is some villainy
afoot. Don't you think it would be advisable to set the police on his
track?"

"Pooh!" exclaimed my father contemptuously. "We'll hear or see no
more of him. Even now he may be working his passage homewards.
However, that reminds me: I'll go over to Pridmouth to-morrow and
return those well-fitting clothes you were rigged out in, and, at the
same time, I'll get hold of the cipher; for, really, I am burning
with impatience to tackle the mystery."




Chapter IV

THE CIPHER


SOMEHOW, or the other the news of my uncle's adventures were noised
abroad far beyond the limits of our village, and for a week or more
we were besieged with letters and telegrams from various people, most
of them absolute strangers, offering congratulations, but more
frequently asking impertinent questions about the "San Philipo"
treasure. Several London and county papers sent representatives down
to interview the survivor of the wreck; but to all requests my uncle
turned a deaf ear, politely yet firmly refusing to give any
information, so that interest in the mystery grew rather than waned;
and exaggerated rumours, amusing no doubt to others, appeared in
various journals, greatly to my father's and uncle's disgust.

In accordance with his resolution, my father went over to Pridmouth
and obtained the metal box with its precious contents, together with
the clothes my uncle was wearing at the time of the shipwreck.
Curiously enough, his watch, which had been in the water for nearly
an hour, was practically uninjured, only a faint trace of rust
showing near the hinge, while, on being rewound, it ticked as merrily
as ever.

We had arranged to defer the opening of the box till the afternoon,
when all three of us would be present; but I firmly believe my father
could not resist the temptation of glancing inside to make sure the
parchment was still there.

He arrived home in high good humour, for on the return journey, he
had picked up a horseshoe and had crossed the ferry in company with a
hunchback, both of which incidents are regarded, even in these
matter-of-fact days, as being conducive to a run of "good luck"; and
preparations were immediately made for the examination of the
mysterious relic of old Humphrey Trevena's seafaring days.

I handled the box with a feeling almost of reverence. It was about
the size of a cigar-case, and made of a dull, heavy metal resembling
bronze, although tarnished with the effects of time and exposure to
the salt water. It was embellished on the front of the outside by
quaint figures representing Boreal urging a seventeenth-century
frigate on its course, with Neptune and Britannia holding a friendly
conference in the background, and, on the back, by a monogram of
letters "H.T." and the date 1719.

"Open it, Reggie," said my father; and, after I had fumbled about
with the spring for a few moments, the lid flew open, and I saw for
the first time the puzzling piece of parchment which was fated to
lead us through great perils by land and by water ere we accomplished
our quest.

With trembling hands I unfolded the paper, my father and uncle
looking eagerly over my shoulder. As Uncle Herbert had already
informed us, there was nothing but a big square subdivided into a
host of smaller ones, and a few unintelligible words and the symbols
of degrees, minutes, and seconds of latitude and longitude, with no
figures given, save a solitary figure 1.

Here, in fact, is a copy of it--


                             Steer N.E.
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   | 1 |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   | " |   | ' |   |   |   |   |   |   |   | ° |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | " |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   | ° |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+

   [Illustration: The unsolved cipher.]


"Well?" asked my uncle, elevating his eyebrows. "What do you make of
it, Howard?"

"Give me time. What does he mean by 'steer nor.'-east,' I wonder?"

"That's what has been puzzling me, for in his log Humphrey states
definitely that he followed the 'San Philipo' in a nor'-westerly
direction, consequently the directions appear to be misleading."

"Possibly they were intended to be so," replied my father dryly. "But
these marks of latitude and longitude--do they convey anything?"

"Nothing, except that certain numbers are evidently intended to fill
in the squares so indicated, and the puzzle is, what are these
numbers?"

"Ah, what?"

"I tell you what; I can see it all now. Amongst the other papers that
were stolen was the key to the cipher. Don't you remember my saying
that one sheet contained a host of figures? Howard, old man, I am a
careless idiot and deserve to be kicked for my negligence."

"It can't be helped," replied my father philosophically. "What is
done cannot be undone, so the less said about it the better. We must
rack our brains to find a solution to the cipher without the aid of
the key. Don't look so glum, Herbert. Better luck next time."

Long after I had gone to bed my parent and his brother pored over the
stubborn cipher, either with the aid of frequent references to the
log of the "Anne" or the chart of the Pacific, which had been ordered
from Potter's some time ago. They must have sat up half the night,
for they were both late at breakfast next morning and were horribly
short-tempered in consequence.

I went to school that morning as usual, but the excitement of the
previous day proved too much for my attention, and, in consequence, I
was sent to detention for an hour. If there is anything I loathe,
detention holds an easy first, for the monotony of an hour's
imprisonment at the end of the day, is particularly galling to a boy
fond of outdoor pursuits. I am sure the junior masters do not
appreciate the task of looking after the delinquents either, and
Newman, the Second Form master, was no exception. So in less than a
quarter of an hour he cleared out, leaving us to our own devices.

The fellow at the desk next to mine, a boarder named Ward, of the
Upper Fifth, who was ever in hot water, was busily engaged in
covering sheets of paper with roughly drawn lines, and as he
appeared to derive a considerable amount of satisfaction from the
task, I remarked:

"What are you up to, Ward; noughts and crosses?"

"Noughts and crosses, my grandmother!"

"What, then?"

"Trying my hand at a magic square."

"A magic what?"

"Square, you ass! look and see for yourself."

On closer examination I found that he had drawn a rough square and
had subdivided it into nine smaller ones, by means of two horizontal
and two vertical parallel lines, and the spaces thus formed he was
busily filling in with the numbers 1 to 9.

"What happens when you finish it? Where does the magic part of the
show come in?" I asked. "It seems a very tame sort of amusement."

"Not when you get thoroughly interested in it," replied Ward. "You
see, the idea is to arrange the figures so that each of the
horizontal, vertical, and diagonal rows make a total of fifteen. It
takes a bit of juggling, I assure you, and I am told that even larger
magic squares can be formed. Ah! That's done it."

With a slightly growing interest I watched Ward manipulate the
figures until he arrived at the solution, which, for some unexplained
reason, I copied down--


   +---+---+---+
   | 8 | 1 | 6 |
   +---+---+---+
   | 3 | 5 | 7 |
   +---+---+---+
   | 4 | 9 | 2 |
   +---+---+---+

   [Illustration: A magic square.]


"There are other arrangements of the numbers," he remarked; "for
instance, you can get another magic square by exchanging the top and
bottom lines or the outside vertical columns; but I have not managed
a larger square yet. Hello! Here comes Newman, so it must be close on
half-past five."

The miserable hour over, I made my way homewards, revolving in my
mind the problem of Humphrey Trevena's cipher, till by some
unaccountable impulse, as I was sitting in the ferry-boat that plies
between Fowey and Polruan, I formed some hazy connection between
Ward's magic square and the exaggerated chessboard design that was so
sorely puzzling my father and uncle.

Rapidly the connection grew, till by the time the boat ran alongside
Polruan quay-steps I firmly assured myself that Old Humphrey's cipher
was based on the principle of a magic square; and, arguing that the
solution of the "fifteen" square must be governed by some fixed rule,
I determined to try to solve the working of Ward's puzzle, and to
apply the principle, if possible, to the more complicated cipher.

With this object in view, I began my task. My father and uncle had
gone out to the Yacht Club, so that I knew I should be free from
interruption.

My first step was to make a copy of the magic square and indicate the
order of the numbers by straight lines from one to the other. When
completed, the diagram looked positively bewildering, and the only
information I could gather was that the numbers 4, 5, 6 formed one of
the diagonals, and ran obliquely from the bottom left-hand corner to
the upper right-hand one, and that the centre number was the 5, or,
the numeral next to half the highest number of the squares.

Next I tried a "twenty-five" square, the diagonal reading 11, 12, 13,
14, 15. The position of the 1 I had already fixed by that in the
smaller square, which, by a sudden inspiration, I remembered occupied
the same relative position in Humphrey Trevena's cipher. As in the
"nine" square the 7 came immediately below the 6; I adapted the
principle by placing the 16 in the square below the 15.

All this took time, but I felt satisfied that I was on the right
track, till I came to the rest of the numbers, and, try how I would,
I could not apply the principle any farther.

At length, with bewildered brain and aching head, I gave up the task
for the time being, and, putting on my cap and calling my dog, I set
out for a ramble to try and cool my heated brow.

I intended to walk in the direction of Lanteglos, and make a circuit
through Hall Walk, Bodinneck Ferry, and Fowey, but, on reaching the
little hamlet of Pont, I sat down on the handrail of the little
wooden bridge, and amused myself by sending the dog into the water.
At length I desisted, and, ignoring the antics of my faithful
companion, I fell into a brown study--a thing under ordinary
circumstances I rarely do.

Twilight was drawing in, and against the vivid red hue in the western
sky the placid waters of the tree-fringed creek made an entrancing
picture, that harmonized with my dreams of adventure in the future,
like a presage of good fortune.

Unconsciously I found myself toying with a pocket compass I
invariably carried, and as my eyes lingered for a moment on the
delicately balanced needle, I saw in my mind's eye, not the compass
card, but the outlines of a magic square, with the needle forming the
puzzling diagonal. In the haphazard position I held the compass the
needle pointed to N.E. on the card, and, like a flash, occurred the
directions scrawled upon the mysterious cipher, "Steer nor'-east."

"I have it!" I exclaimed aloud in my excitement. "'Steer nor.'-east'
must be old Humphrey's way of expressing the sequence of the numbers
on his cipher; and that is the direction of the diagonal."

Without a moment's delay, I hastened home to make a fresh onslaught
upon the puzzle, and, to make a long story short, I solved the
"twenty-five" square by constructing two similar squares on its north
and south sides--i.e. the top right-hand sides--and starting with the
figure 1 and working in a N.E. direction, so that directly a number
fell within one of the divisions of the adjacent squares, I
transferred it to the corresponding division of the original design.
But when by this means I came to a space already occupied by a
number, I found, by consulting the already completed nine-divisioned
square, that the next number was placed in the vacant space that
invariably occurred below.

The completed square, which I regarded with considerable
satisfaction, appeared as under--


   +---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+
   |   | 18| 25| 2 | 9 |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | 17| 24| 1 | 8 | 15| 17|   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | 23| 5 | 7 | 14| 16| 23|   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | 4 | 6 | 13| 20| 22| 4 |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | 10| 12| 19| 21| 3 | 12|   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   | 11| 18| 25| 2 | 9 |   |   |   |   |   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   Total of each vertical, horizontal,
   and diagonal line = 65.

   [Illustration: A bigger magic square.]


Now came the crucial test of constructing a square with the same
number of subdivisions as there were on Humphrey's cipher, and an
intelligent application of the figures to the symbols of latitude and
longitude; but here I was nonplussed, for I had no copy of the
cipher, neither could I remember the actual numbers of subdivisions.

Just then, however, my father and uncle returned, and while at supper
they did not fail to notice my excitement.

"Whatever is the matter with you, Reggie?" asked Uncle Herbert. "You
look like a cat on hot bricks."

I was burning with impatience to let them know of my evening's work
and its results, but, fearing that after all there might be some flaw
in my theory, and having another motive in view, I managed to
restrain myself.

Little more was said during the meal, but on its completion
preparations were made to continue the investigations of the mystery.

"I say, pater," I exclaimed. "Don't you think it would be better to
make a copy of the cipher: it would save the original, you know."

"Just so, Reggie, I will; but I think it's about time you went to
bed."

"Another hour won't make much difference," I replied. "You see,
to-morrow's a holiday."

My father assented, and gleefully I set about the task of making a
duplicate of the cipher, of which I was now firmly convinced I held
the key.

It was not a long business, and when completed, I stealthily removed
a second copy which I had obtained by means of a carbon paper, and
announced my intention of "turning in."

It was, however, far from my thoughts to go to bed, and directly I
reached the solitude of my room I set to work to fill up the blank
spaces of the cipher, which, thanks to my previous trials with the
smaller squares, was a comparatively rapid and easy task.


                             Steer N.E.
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +
   |   |123|140|157|174|191|208|225| 2 | 19| 36| 53| 70| 87|104+
   +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |122|139|156|173|190|207|224| 1 | 18| 35| 52| 69| 86|103|120+122|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |138|155|172|189|206|223| 15| 17| 34| 51| 68| 85|102|119|121+138|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |154|171|188|205|222| 14| 16| 33| 50| 67| 84|101|118|135|137+154|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |170|187|204|221| 13| 30| 32| 49| 66| 83|100|117|134|136|153+170|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |186|203|220| 12| 29| 31| 48| 65| 82| 99|116|133|150|152|169+186|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |  "|   |  '|   |   |   |   |   |   |   |  °|   |   +   |
   |202|219| 11| 28| 45| 47| 64| 81| 98|115|132|149|151|168|185+202|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |218| 10| 27| 44| 46| 63| 80| 97|114|131|148|165|167|184|201+218|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   | 9 | 26| 43| 60| 62| 79| 96|113|130|147|164|166|183|200|217+ 9 |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   | 25| 42| 59| 61| 78| 95|112|129|146|163|180|182|199|216| 8 + 25|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |  "|   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |  °|   +   |
   | 41| 58| 75| 77| 94|111|128|145|162|179|181|198|215| 7 | 24+ 41|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   | 57| 74| 76| 93|110|127|144|161|178|195|197|214| 6 | 23| 40+ 57|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   | 73| 90| 92|109|126|143|160|177|194|196|213| 5 | 22| 39| 56+ 73|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   | 89| 91|108|125|142|159|176|193|210|212| 4 | 21| 38| 55| 72+ 89|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |105|107|124|141|158|175|192|209|211| 3 | 20| 37| 54| 71| 88+105|
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   +   |
   |106|123|140|157|174|191|208|225| 2 | 19| 36| 53| 70| 87|104+   |
   +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
         Lat. N.   Lon. W.
                                151°45'11"W   7°24'41"N

   Total of every horizontal, vertical row = 1695
   [Illustration: THE SOLVED CIPHER.]


In less than an hour I had completed the solution, checking the
totals, which in every case amounted to the sum of 1,695; and,
applying the marks of latitude and longitude, I found that the
position was 7° 24' 41" N. and 151° 45' 11" W., which, in spite of
the absence of an atlas, I knew would be somewhere in the Pacific
Ocean.

Cautiously I made my way downstairs, holding the completed cipher
rolled tightly in my hand. The dining-room door was slightly ajar,
and through the opening I could see my father and uncle leaning over
the table, which was littered with charts, papers, and writing
materials.

"I am afraid we are checkmated," I heard my father remark
despondently. "The treasure of the 'San Philipo,' will never come
within our grasp."

As I entered the room they both looked up in amazement.

"Reggie!" exclaimed my father deprecatingly.

"All right, pater," I replied, with the boldness acquired by my
success. "I want to make a bargain with you."

"A bargain? I don't understand."

"What I mean to say is this: If you make a search for the 'San
Philipo' treasure, promise me that I can go too."

"Bless the boy!" ejaculated Uncle Herbert. "What does he mean?"

"The possibility of a search is very remote," said my father, "as we
have absolutely no definite information to work upon, and no
likelihood of gaining any; but I really don't understand what you
mean by the word 'bargain.'"

"I mean," I replied stoutly, "that if I find a key to the cipher, do
I take part in the search?"

"I see no reason why you shouldn't if----"

"Then you promise?"

"Yes."

"Thanks," I replied, flourishing the paper I held in my hand.




Chapter V

A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE


"EXPLAIN yourself, you young rascal," exclaimed my uncle, gripping me
by the shoulder in his excitement.

In reply I handed over my solution, explaining in a few words the
principle of the magic square. For a few moments neither of them
spoke. The pater, seizing a ruler, made a rough pencil mark on a
chart of the Pacific that lay on the table; then, bringing his
powerful fist down so heavily that the glasses and drawing
instruments fairly jumped, he almost shouted--

"Why, you are a regular brick, Reggie! That's it right enough."

"Are there any islands shown on the chart?" asked my Uncle Herbert.

"Several; but let's turn up Findlay's Directory of the Pacific.
Hello! What have we here? 'Truk or Hogoleu Islands. This group is
composed of four or five lofty basaltic islands, surrounded by a
barrier reef.... Discovered by Captain Duperrey, June 24, 1824' (that
is, if Humphrey Trevena hadn't done so a century before). 'The
northernmost of the group is in lat. 7° 42' 30" N.' (probably San
Philipo Island skipped the navigator's memory). It seems possible
that an island does exist at this position eh, Herbert?"

"Certainly. Do they give any further information?"

"Yes; here is a choice piece: 'Captain Cheyne, of the brigs "Naiad"
and "Will-o'-the Wisp," came here to collect bêche-de-mer, and were
completely taken off their guard by the apparent friendliness of the
natives, who at first assisted them to build their curing-houses. As
soon as the "Naiad" left, they attacked the "Wisp" with a force of
2,000 men, and were only repulsed with desperate fighting and the
loss of six killed and five wounded. They also seized the long-boat,
which was recovered the same day.... They had a great number of large
Spanish knives, and were armed with brass-hilted cutlasses.'"

"'Spanish knives and brass-hilted cutlasses,'" repeated my uncle.
"That's strange."

"It certainly points to a wreck of some Spanish war-vessel in bygone
days."

"What do you intend to do in the matter?"

"Why, fit out an expedition," replied my father decisively. "I've
already formed a rough plan of action, but it is too late to discuss
it to-night. It's time we were all turned in and fast asleep."

So saying, my father swept the papers and charts off the table,
locked the former in a safe, and placed the metal box with the now
solved cipher in his pocket, then motioned us to retire, and
extinguished the lamp.

But for me, sleep was an impossibility. The exciting events of the
past few days, culminating in my fortunate discovery, kept me awake,
and in almost a fever of suppressed mental activity I was continually
turning from side to side in a fruitless endeavour to sleep.

Outside the wind was howling across the harbour, making the trees
shiver and creak in a weird and disturbing manner. Presently the
clock struck two, and at almost the same time a current of air rushed
into my room, causing the half-open door to swing back against the
wall.

"Surely they cannot have forgotten to shut the hall door," I thought,
and, jumping out of bed, I walked silently towards the staircase. The
other inmates had been more fortunate than I; my father was sleeping
soundly, while his brother was snoring heavily, the place seemingly
trembling under the vibrations of his sonorous efforts, and even as I
listened I heard a faint click as if the dining-room door was being
opened.

Instantly I crept into uncle's room, gently closed the door, and
shook him by the shoulder.

"Wake up!" I whispered. "There's some one broken into the house."

"No luck," he muttered. "Twenty fathoms down. Try again to-morrow,"
and, turning over, he recommenced his discordant snoring. "Wake up!"
I repeated, redoubling the shaking performance. "There's a burglar
after the cipher."

The word "cipher" did it, for in an instant he was up and fully
awake.

"Hush! Listen!" And carefully opening the door, I hastened to my
father's room to arouse him.

We sallied forth to meet the foe; my father and uncle led the way,
the latter grasping a revolver, while I followed, feeling somewhat
disjointed in my lower limbs.

At the top of the stairs we waited for further signs of the burglar,
and in the dismal silence, broken only by the moaning of the wind, I
could feel my heart throbbing violently against my ribs. At length
came the unmistakable sounds of some one moving cautiously.

A man must naturally feel at a disadvantage when, clad mainly in
pyjamas, he is forced single-handed to tackle a house-breaking
ruffian; but, with three of us, and the comforting reassurance
imparted by the revolver, the deficiency of wardrobe counted for
little.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the noise of a furious scuffle,
followed by a shriek of pain, and, concealment being no longer
necessary, the brothers dashed downstairs. My uncle led in the race,
but, tripping over a man's body, he lay half-stunned, while my
father, who followed more cautiously, narrowly escaped the same fate.
Then some one rushed quickly through the hall and began to fumble
with the lock of the front door, and, as the door was thrown
violently open, there was a blinding flash from the vicinity of the
floor, followed by another yell of pain, and the pungent smell of
gunpowder filled the air.

"That's settled his hash, Howard," I heard my uncle exclaim. "Get a
light and see what we are up to."

I made for the dining-room to light the lamp, and as I crossed the
hall my bare feet stepped in a pool of warm liquid. With trembling
fingers I struck a match and lighted the lamp, and, returned to the
scene of the struggle.

My uncle was leaning against the wall, the still smoking revolver in
his hand, and my father was leaning over a motionless figure huddled
at the foot of the stairs, while a stream of blood, through which I
had stepped, slowly welled across the floor.

"The man has been stabbed!" exclaimed Uncle Herbert. "Whatever does
it mean?"

"Get another light--a hurricane lamp, there's one in the
kitchen--and run the other man down. You winged him right enough,
Herbert; he can't be far away."

The light was procured, and following a well-defined trail outside
the door, we ran the other burglar to earth, in a shrubbery close to
the garden gate.

Simultaneously, my uncle and I recognised him--it was the Brazilian
seaman who had tried to stab my uncle on the wreck, and whom I had
seen lying on the cliff path.

While my uncle covered him with a revolver, for he snarled viciously
like a wounded animal at bay, my father relieved him of his knife,
and, lifting him by their combined efforts, they carried him into the
house; but before reaching the door he had fainted.

"He's shot through the fleshy part of his right leg," said my father.
"Just put on a temporary bandage till we can attend to the other
beauty. Whatever made them fight each other like that, I wonder?"

"I don't know," replied my uncle, ripping the man's trousers with a
penknife and winding a long strip of linen round the wound, for the
bullet had cut a clean hole right through the Brazilian's leg. "But
you see there is something very mysterious in the manner in which
this scoundrel has followed me up."

"Now for the other man," exclaimed my father. "I am afraid he has
been badly hurt. Why, Herbert, you have had a gash yourself--look!"

"Pooh! A mere nothing. I hardly felt it."

"But it's bleeding pretty freely."

"Yes, the Brazilian made a jab at me as he broke away. But who's
this?"

They had lifted the man who had been left lying at the foot of the
stairs, and carried him, still unconscious, into the kitchen. He was
apparently quite a young man, with closely cropped hair and
clean-shaven face, or, rather, his chin was covered with a four days'
growth of bristling hair, while his dress consisted of a
close-fitting suit of dark blue cloth, the coat-tails tucked in under
the trouser band. "Here's a fine bird!" remarked Uncle Herbert, as he
began to cut away the odd-looking clothing to get at a wound in the
man's side. "You know where he comes from?"

"No," replied my father.

"Bodmin. He's escaped from the naval prison."

"I wonder what he's been up to," remarked my father thoughtfully. "A
naval prisoner does not usually associate with foreign seamen, and
burglars to boot."

"It's a clean cut, and not particularly dangerous," announced Uncle
Herbert. "Bring the light closer, Reggie. Hello!" he added, looking
at my face, which must have been horribly white. "This won't do. Run
away to the other room, and, keep your head between your knees till
you feel better. I can't have three patients on my hands."

I did as I was bid, for everything was beginning to whirl round.
Presently my father came in to get some brandy, for the second
patient was recovering. As daylight began to dawn, they carried the
man upstairs to my room, and presently, after a good deal of talking,
my father and uncle came downstairs.

"Run upstairs and get your things on, Reggie," said my father. "I
want you to fetch the police sergeant. But, remember, don't say a
word to any one about the man we have upstairs. It's only the
Brazilian we are going to give in charge; he's coming to now.
Remember what I say, and I'll tell you the reason later."

"Did I understand him to say that the Brazilian was coming
downstairs?" I heard my father remark.

"Yes, I believe so," replied my uncle.

"Then he must have been in one of our rooms. Only to think that that
dirty scoundrel was hanging around us with his knife while we were
asleep! I'll go upstairs and see if anything is touched."

A moment later I heard my father shout, "It's gone!"

"What's gone?" asked Uncle Herbert.

"The box containing the cipher."

"It can't be far, at all events," said my uncle. "Let's search the
brute."

I am afraid they were none too gentle with the man, but a thorough
search revealed nothing.

"Try the place where we caught him," suggested the pater, and we all
three went outdoors, carefully examining the well-defined trail.
After a lengthy search we found, not only the box, but a bundle of
papers cunningly hidden under the shrubbery in a tangled mass of
twigs and leaves.

After glancing at the contents of the metal box, which was still
intact, my father opened the packet of papers, and, to our surprise,
they were the actual documents filched from my uncle's cabin on the
ill-fated "Andrea Doria."

"You have only forestalled Fate by a few hours, Reggie," remarked the
pater. "You see, here is the exact key to the cipher--the figures
your uncle took to be merely business papers. However, run on down
for the police."

As I passed through the hall to get my cap, I gave an involuntary
exclamation of surprise, for there were no signs of the Brazilian.

In reply to my shout, my father and uncle came running up, and their
astonishment was, in spite of the situation, comical to behold. We
made a hasty yet thorough search of the house and grounds, with no
result. The man had vanished as completely as if he had been provided
with wings.

"But he cannot get far, with a badly wounded leg," I remarked.

"It certainly is strange; but he must have a wonderful nerve to play
'possum like that. However, I think we need not send for the police,
after all; for they will think we are either mad or else inventing
fairy-tales."

Everything considered, there was not much to grumble about. We had,
it is true, a wounded man on our hands, and Uncle Herbert had
received a slight cut from the Brazilian's knife; but as a set-off we
had regained the papers, though they served merely to confirm my
solution to the cipher, while the Brazilian, who had an ounce of lead
through his leg, would hardly care to repeat his burgling exploits
after such a disastrous ending to his first attempt.

While at breakfast they told me about the wounded man upstairs, and
why I was not to have mentioned him to the police.

The man, who gave his name as Alec Johnston, a Scotsman, had broken
out of Bodmin Naval Prison, where he had been sent after being
sentenced by court-martial for the heinous offence, in naval law, of
striking a superior officer. He appeared, said my father, to be a
well-set-up, healthy young fellow, with a fair amount of intellect,
and there was no reason to doubt his story.

Left an orphan at an early age, he was sent by his relatives to the
training-ship "St. Vincent." In due course he was "passed out" and
sent on a sea-going ship, and, by thorough devotion to his duty, bade
fair speedily to become a petty officer. By some means or other he
incurred the enmity of a bully, who, by a fawning subservience to his
superiors, had been recently made a bos'n's mate, and the climax was
reached when Johnston refused to participate in a drunken spree
ashore. From that time his life on board became intolerable. Under
the cloak of discipline the bos'n's mate seized every possible
opportunity to humiliate and insult the young seaman, till one day
the young Scot turned upon his tormentor and struck him violently in
the face.

The circumstances of this breach of discipline were reported to the
Commander, and at the court-martial, where the evidence in support of
the prosecution was given by a ship's corporal and two seamen,
neither of whom witnessed the assault, the draconic sentence of two
years' hard labour, to be followed by dismissal from H.M. service,
was passed upon the hapless Scot.

Smarting under the gross injustice of his sentence, Johnston seized
the first opportunity of effecting his escape under circumstances of
remarkable audacity, and, travelling by night and hiding by day, he
made his way towards the coast, trusting to find a sympathetic
fisherman to give him a passage away from the danger zone.

Chance led him to the neighbourhood of Polruan, and, as a change of
clothes was essential, he resolved to break into a house and procure
some garments less distinctive than his own. A fortunate circumstance
prompted him to effect an entry into our house.

Now, as it happened, the Brazilian had removed a pane of glass and
opened a window barely ten minutes before, and, in order to
facilitate his retreat, he had drawn the bolts of both the front and
back doors. This he had done without disturbing any of us, and had
actually crept into my father's room and removed the cipher from his
coat-pocket.

In the meantime the sailor had found the front door ajar and had
cautiously made his way into the house, though the slight noise he
had made caused me to be on the alert. In the hall he took down an
overcoat and hat, but, requiring other articles of clothing, he made
up his mind to risk a visit to the upstairs rooms.

Just as he was ascending the stairs he encountered the Brazilian,
and, in the darkness, each imagined the other to be one of the
occupiers of the house. In almost dead silence they grappled,
struggling fiercely and determinedly, till, overbalancing, they both
fell in a heap at the foot of the stairs, at the very moment that we
were leaning over the balustrades.

Then it was that the Brazilian, whipping out his formidable knife,
stabbed the sailor and broke away, only to be "winged" by my uncle's
shot.

Thus we were under an obligation to the unfortunate Alec Johnston for
his burglarious act. But for him the Brazilian might have got clean
away with both the cipher and its key. As far as we knew, he might be
an agent for some syndicate of rogues in Pernambuco, who, knowing the
history of the "San Philipo," might instantly fit out a vessel to
attempt to recover the treasure.

Both my father and his brother expressed themselves very strongly on
the subject of the gross injustice done to the young seaman, and,
coming to the conclusion that there would be no moral wrong done in
concealing the man under these circumstances, they decided to
befriend him, or at least to take no active steps in preventing his
bid for freedom.




Chapter VI

THE "FORTUNA"


THE next few days were spent in making preliminary plans and
preparations for our voyage in search of the "San Philipo" treasure.
As I have already stated, the pater had fixed upon most of the
details, and he now confided to us the nature of his programme.

Briefly, he proposed to purchase a yacht of sufficient tonnage to
make the adventurous passage, yet as small as was compatible with
comfort and safety. Seventy tons was the approximate displacement of
the vessel he required, and, taking as an example Captain Voss's
voyage round the world in the dug-out canoe "Tilikum," Slocum's
single-handed cruises across the Atlantic in the comparatively
diminutive "Spray," and the instance of a Falmouth quay punt of but
thirty feet in length, with a crew of about five hands, making a
successful voyage to South Australia, this tonnage should provide an
ample margin of safety.

When a suitable vessel had been acquired he proposed to man her with
a strong crew, lay in a good supply of stores and salvage gear, and
shape a course for the Pacific via the Suez Canal, Indian Ocean, and
the Malacca Straits, preferring to take the longer route than to risk
the nerve-racking ordeal of a beat round Cape Horn.

Financially we had nothing to fear, for the amount of hard cash
received under the terms of Ross Trevena's will would amply cover the
expenses of the expedition, and, as the pater remarked with true
Cornish philosophy, "as he had never had the making of it he would
never miss the spending." In addition, the sudden activity of the
Cornish mining industry, had resulted in some shares that my father
had in the "Wheal Treganna," and which we had long regarded as a bad
investment, rising rapidly considerably, above par, and, by promptly
selling out, there was a substantial credit in the family exchequer,
so that from a pecuniary point of view our position was a decided
improvement to what it had been before Uncle Herbert's hurried trip
to Pernambuco.

As a matter of fact, there was no necessity to make this expedition
to the far-off Pacific, but so intent was my father on seeing the
whole business through (as were my uncle and I), that not for one
moment did he swerve from his purpose. "If we find the treasure, as I
confidently expect to do, well and good; if we do not, well, at the
very least it is a holiday at my uncle Ross Trevena's expense."

With the object of purchasing a suitable craft, a sharp eye was kept
on the advertisements in the yachting press, till one day the
following announcement caused the pater to make a sudden rush for a
railway time-table----


  FOR SALE, by order of the executors: The modern 70-ton auxiliary
  yacht "Fortuna," built 1904 to Lloyd's highest class. Ketch-rigged.
  Ideal ocean cruiser, fully found, and in perfect condition. Low
  price to immediate purchaser. Mitcham motor new this year.--Apply
  Roach & Co., sole agents, Hamble, near Southampton.


"Herbert, old boy," he exclaimed excitedly, "that's just the craft
I'm looking for; ketch-rigged--the ideal sail-plan for rough work;
'Mitcham' motor, therefore no risk of being becalmed in the Tropics
for weeks at a stretch. When's the next train to Southampton? We'll
start at once."

"But why not write for particulars first?" asked my uncle, who,
though impetuous, certainly possessed a certain amount of caution.

"And have the yacht snapped up under our very noses? No, no. A
well-known firm like Roach & Co. would not deal in rubbish nor act as
agents for any craft unless she were exactly as represented. Look
sharp and get together what gear you require; and you too, Reggie.
Ha, ha! I can already see myself on the deck of the 'Fortuna.'"

"But how about leaving young Johnston?"

"He's able to look after himself now."

"Aren't you afraid he'll clear the place out and make off?"

"Herbert, I don't think I am mistaken. That young fellow could be
trusted anywhere. It was his misfortune, not his fault, that first
led him into trouble. So I'll trust him, and I'll stake my all that
my confidence will not be misplaced."

As the result of my parent's hurried preparations, in less than an
hour we were steaming out of Fowey Station in a train which was due
at Plymouth in time to catch the 12.18 to Salisbury, a telegram
having been dispatched to apprise Roach of our visit.

Throughout the long journey my father, who, much to my surprise, had
taken single tickets, was like the proverbial cat on hot bricks. His
ill-concealed impatience reminded me forcibly of a child being taken
to a toy-shop to purchase a new toy. Uncle Herbert, although also
excited, managed to content himself with a couple of newspapers and
some weekly journals, though I observed him surreptitiously signing
the insurance coupons in the latter. For my part, I was deeply
interested in the ever-changing landscape, as the red earth and vivid
green foliage of Devon gave place to the dazzling chalk and duller
verdure of Dorset and Wilts, till, with remarkable swiftness, the
four hours passed and we glided into Salisbury station, from which I
had my first glimpse of the slender, needle-like spire of the
cathedral.

We made a hasty change of carriages, and, notwithstanding my parent's
muttered objurgations on the slowness of the train, it literally
crawled into Southampton, where on our arrival I ventured to remind
him that we had had nothing to eat since eight that morning--a fact
that he, in his excitement, had completely overlooked.

"Grin and bear it, Reggie," he replied. "If we stop here for tea we
shall miss the next train to Bursledon. Once there you can eat as
much as you like."

It was nearly six when the train drew up at Bursledon, one of the
most delightfully situated stations it is possible to imagine. It is
perched on the side of a steep hill, with the placid waters of the
Hamble River washing the foot of the well-wooded declivity.
Notwithstanding the gentle summer's breeze that was swaying the
treetops, not a ripple disturbed the surface of the stream, except
when an occasional dinghy put off to one or other of the numerous
small yachts that swung easily at their moorings. "You ought to have
alighted at Netley," remarked the station-master, in reply to an
inquiry as to the best means of reaching Hamble village. "But you may
possibly get a conveyance, or a boatman down there will row you
down-stream."

"Excuse me, sir," exclaimed a tall, bronzed, and bearded individual,
rigged out in a tanned jersey, white boating hat, and flannel
trousers tucked into a pair of sea-boots, the whole costume liberally
bespattered with river mud. "I overheard you say that you wanted to
get down to Hamble. My motor-launch is going there in half an hour's
time, should you care to take a passage in her."

The pater assented. "It will give us time to get tea," he added.
"Where shall we pick up your boat?"

"On the quay by that cottage you can see down there," he replied,
pointing to a prettily situated, creeper-covered house close to the
water's edge. "We start at seven."

And, touching his hat, the mud-stained individual strolled away with
the peculiar slouching gait affected by most seafaring men. "What
ought we to give him for the passage down?" asked my father of the
station-master, after the motor-boat person had taken his departure.
The official smiled in a very amused fashion.

"I don't think I would offer him anything, if I were you," he
replied. "He is the Hon. George Pycrust, owner of the steam-yacht
'Chimborazo,' member of the Motor-Yacht Club, and I don't know what
else besides. There's no room for snobs on this river, and yachtmen
do each other a good turn whenever they have a chance."

We were directed to a little inn on the hill above the
railway-station, and here in a few minutes we were enjoying a
substantial tea, including a determined attack upon a freshly boiled
Warsash crab, a delicacy for which the district is famous, although
the flavour is distinctly different from that of the shell-fish
caught on our part of the coast.

Punctually at seven o'clock we arrived at the private quay where the
Hon. George's motor-launch was waiting, and with the faintest tremor
her powerful engine was started and we sped rapidly down the river,
my father keeping up an animated conversation with the mud-stained
scion of a noble house on the ever-ready subject of yachting.

Quickly the lead- hulks of the obsolete gunboats were left
astern, and the three-masted training ship "Mercury" passed, and we
came in sight of the red-tiled roofs of Hamble village, fringed with
a forest of yachts' masts and backed by a dense mass of trees.

"I'll land you at Roach's private steps," observed our kindly
benefactor. "There will be just time to see the 'Fortuna' before
dusk. She's a perfect beauty. I came across from Cherbourg in her in
a regular sou'-easter, and a better sea boat you could not possibly
imagine. If you decide to have her, and keep her in this station, I
shall doubtless come across you at times. Here we are. Out fenders
and stand by with the boathook," he added, addressing the launch's
boy. With scarcely a jar the boat ran alongside the floating
landing-stage, and, taking a hearty adieu of the kindly owner, we
stepped ashore.

From the pontoon a narrow plank gangway brought us to another broader
pier-like structure that ran parallel to the shore over a stretch of
soft mud. Here, packed like sardines in a box, were rows of yachts of
all sizes and rigs, lying snugly in their mid-berths.

"Ah! Here is Roach, I believe," exclaimed my father, as an
alert-looking personage in a yachtsman's uniform came hurrying along
the gangway to meet us.

"My name's Trevena. I wired you this morning about the 'Fortuna.' You
are Mr. Roach, I presume?"

"The same. We hardly expected so prompt a reply to the advertisement,
especially in the shape of a personal call, although we have had
several inquiries by letter," replied the yacht-builder, indicating a
bundle of communications in his hand. "There is the 'Fortuna'--the
fourth yacht in the tier. Would you care to see her now?"

"At once, if you've no objection," replied my father.

"None whatever; everything is open to inspection. I will accompany
you, if you like, although most purchasers prefer to make an
absolutely private inspection without being influenced by any one
interested in the sale."

"Just so. Then we will go alone. Where shall we see you again?"

"I am to be found in that house-boat," he replied, pointing to a
large dismasted yacht which had been converted into a floating
dwelling.

"Did you ever see such a fine-looking craft?" exclaimed my parent
enthusiastically. "Look at her bow--what a fine entry! And what a
clean run aft! Get aboard, both of you, as fast as you can." And,
scrambling up a narrow swaying plank, we stood on the deck of the
yacht "Fortuna."

A flush deck, broken only by a skylight and companion, with fairly
high bulwarks fitted with ample scuppers, showed there need be little
fear of seas breaking inboard.

For'ard a small booby hatch and a compact yet powerful winch alone
encumbered the fo'c'sle deck, while on either side amidships were
davits for carrying a gig and a whaler.

A quick yet comprehensive survey of the deck satisfied the pater;
then, diving down the companion, with us following closely on his
heels, he began a tour of the cabins.

On either side of the companion was a little cabin,
comfortable-looking in spite of being dismantled, the one on the
starboard side being the owner's, that to the port apparently for the
use of a guest.

Both of these opened out of the main saloon, which, with its mahogany
swing-table, sideboards, bookcases, and sofa-berths, seemed quite a
large apartment compared with the cabin on board our cutter "Spray."
This cabin was lighted by the skylight on deck, and at night by a
large swinging lamp, judging by the fittings on the deck-beams.

For'ard of the saloon were two small staterooms, separated by a
narrow alleyway which gave access to the pantry, captain's cabin, and
the fo'c'sle. The latter had accommodation for five men, the iron
framework of the folding cots being still in position.

"Plenty of room for a fairly large crew, with slight alterations,"
remarked my father. "We can easily throw the skipper's cabin and the
two staterooms into the fo'c'sle, and make a solid bulkhead across
just abaft the pantry."

"Yes, a dozen hands would be comfortably stowed away in that case,"
replied my uncle. "I suppose you have already made up your mind about
her?"

"Nearly."

"Remember the proverb about buying a pig in a poke."

"Also the adage 'Never leave till to-morrow what you can do to-day,'"
replied my father, laughing. "Here, give a hand with this trap-hatch,
and let's see what she is like."

Underneath the floors the lead ballast had been removed to store, and
the timbers and frames carefully cleaned and tarred, so that, as my
uncle expressed it, "she was as sweet as new-mown hay." There was no
doubt that she had been well looked after. However, the daylight was
rapidly fading, so we were forced to bring our investigations to a
close, after a hasty inspection of the ladies' cabin abaft the
companion.

"Does the 'Fortuna' come up to your expectations?" inquired the
yacht-builder when we rejoined him.

"As far as I can judge," replied my father. "Have you an inventory?"

"Here it is, complete in every detail; and you are perfectly at
liberty to call in an independent surveyor whenever you like."

"I don't think there is any necessity for that," replied my father.
"When could she be ready for sea?"

"We can get her off these next tides--say, the day after
to-morrow--and everything could be placed aboard by Thursday night."

"And the price?"

"Seven hundred and fifty pounds; including fitting out."

"Very well, then. We will regard the transaction as completed; allow
me to have the use of your office while I write out a cheque."

I doubt whether a yacht had ever before been sold in such a record
time; but such was the ease, and before leaving the shipyard we were
in possession of the yacht's papers, Mr. Roach having reiterated his
promise to have the "Fortuna" ready for sea in four days' time.

I understood now why the pater had taken single tickets; he had set
his heart on the "Fortuna" directly he saw the announcement, and had
meant to bring her back to Fowey.

The four days, in, spite of the long hours (for we were up from
sunrise to sunset), passed very quickly, and, true to his word, Roach
had the yacht afloat, her spars varnished and sails bent, the motor
reinstalled, and all gear and stores on board within the specified
time. No doubt we should have been quite capable of working her home
without assistance, but, acting on Uncle Herbert's advice, we engaged
a couple of hand's to be on the safe side in case of heavy weather.

Just before ten on the Thursday night the "Fortuna" slipped her
moorings and made for the mouth of the river. It was a clear
moonlight night, with the faintest suspicion of a breeze from the
nor'-east, so the motor was brought into use, and with a gentle
purring the powerful little engine urged the yacht through the calm
waters of the land-locked estuary.

I remained on deck as we glided down the Solent, with its host of
moving lights. We were soon rolling slightly in the tidal race of the
Needles Channel. Once clear of the land, we caught the following
breeze, and gallantly the ketch responded to the steadily drawing
sails.

"Here we are, in the open Channel once more, Reggie," exclaimed my
father, who had just relinquished his "trick at the helm" to one of
the men. "Hurst Castle light away on our port quarter, the Needles
light bears directly astern, and yonder in the distance you can see
the flash of St. Catherine's, one of the most powerful lights in the
world. See that flash ahead on the starboard bow? That's Anvil Point,
on the Dorset coast, so that, provided the weather is clear,
navigation on this part of the coast is as safe as can possibly be
imagined. We'll have supper now, and then we'll turn in, for it's
nearly one o'clock. By the time you are awake I hope we shall be well
across West Bay."

So saying, my father took me below, where supper was served in the
main saloon. Uncle Herbert had just finished his, and was struggling
into his great-coat prior to taking his watch on deck. It was the
first time I had seen the cabin by artificial light, and in the
swinging rays of the hanging lamp it looked a picture of comfort; the
red cushions on the sofa bunks, the thick Turkey carpet on the floor,
the curtains across the doors and skylights, and the well-laid
swing-table, all combined to make the saloon look a veritable
floating home.

"What do you think of it, eh?" asked my father, reading the
interested look in my face. "A slight improvement on the 'Spray,' I
take it? Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable, for the
'Fortuna's' to be your home for the next eighteen months, I reckon."

Supper over, I turned in on a bunk in the cabin opposite to my
father's, which was to be my own, and, lulled by the rhythmical purr
of the motor and the gentle undulations of the vessel, I soon fell
into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke it was broad daylight. The yacht was pitching
considerably, so that dressing was accomplished under difficulties.
Upon going on deck I found my father had already forestalled me, and
the meagre crew were engaged in stowing the mizzen, as, owing to the
freshening wind, which was coming right aft, it was the canvas which
could be most profitably stowed.

It was a grey, misty morning, the sun barely showing through the
fleecy clouds overhead. We had just cleared the tail of Portland
Race, the, "Bill" showing clearly over our starboard quarter, and the
cliffs of West Bay fading away in the haze on our starboard hand.
About a mile way to port a large liner was tearing up Channel, and,
with a couple of topsail schooners, were the only vessels to be seen.

The compass showed a bearing of S. 84° W., which, allowing for the
slight indraught, would bring the yacht close to the Start, although
that headland, forty-five miles distant, was, of course, invisible.

"Had a good night, Reggie?" asked my father.

"Splendid!"

"Then you had better go for'ard and get breakfast ready," he replied
with a merry laugh. "With so small a crew there can be no idlers, so
you must act as steward. But wait till we ship a proper crew, and
I'll warrant we'll be as comfortable as at home."

"I notice the motor isn't running."

"No, it would be almost useless in a strong breeze like this; but in
a calm it is indispensable. Now cut along and get breakfast; we are
all famishing."

I did as I was bid, and the three of us had quite a respectable meal
in the saloon, the two hands being left on deck with instructions as
to how the yacht's head was to be kept.

After breakfast I went on deck, leaving my father and uncle to
overhaul the numerous lockers to become acquainted with their stowage
capacity, and to consider the necessity of increasing the space
intended for the crew.

About eight o'clock we passed close to a fleet of Brixham trawlers,
their rich- tanned sails making a picturesque sight as they
beat out towards the trawling grounds. Soon afterwards we sighted the
bold headland of Start Point, and with the aid of glass the white
lighthouse could be discerned. All this time the "Fortuna" was
tearing through the blue water, without the necessity of touching a
single sheet or runner, and, provided the wind held, there was a
possibility of reaching Fowey before nightfall.

At 1 p.m. the Start was abeam, and here began one of the most
interesting stretches of coast that is to be found around the British
Isles, and for hours I watched the ever-changing panorama, plying
both my father and uncle with numerous questions, and gaining quite a
wealth of information about the many noted shipwrecks that have taken
place betwixt the Start and the entrance to Plymouth Sound.

We weathered the frowning Bolt Tail just within two hours after
leaving the Start, and soon the well-known needle-like shaft of the
Eddystone showed up on the sky-line on our port bow.

"Nearly home!" exclaimed Uncle Herbert, indicating the dim outlines
of Rame Head. "It's a rattling good passage."

"It will be a bit of a surprise for the fellows at the yacht Club to
see the 'Fortuna,' with the club burgee and my house flag flying,
bring up in Polruan Pool."

"I think it will be a bigger surprise when she comes back to Fowey
with a few tons of silver from the 'San Philipo' lying on her
ballast," replied my uncle enthusiastically.

"I hope so," said my father. "Another fortnight will see us under way
for Southern seas."

Unfortunately for my father's anticipation, however, the wind fell
light, and it was dark before we picked up the friendly gleam of St.
Catherine's; and just as the parish church clock was striking
midnight the "Fortuna's" anchor fell with a splash and a rattle of
chain to the bottom of Fowey Harbour.




Chapter VII

THE EXPEDITION SETS SAIL


WE lost no time in preparing the "Fortuna" for her long voyage, for
the morning after her arrival at Fowey my father sent for Clemens,
the boat-builder, and instructed him to build a sound-proof bulkhead
right across the vessel just abaft the two for'ard state-rooms. These
two cabins were then thrown into the fo'c'sle, thus providing six
additional bunks; while, to meet the requirements of the increased
number of the crew, two large fresh-water tanks were placed below the
fo'c'sle floor, and connected with the deck by means of a small pump.

In the meantime my uncle had paid a hurried visit to the Midlands,
with the result that five heavy packing-cases arrived at our house.
The first contained a three-pounder Q.F. gun, with a light mounting,
the second a Maxim with both deck and field mountings, two others
contained cases of quick-firing and small-arm ammunition, and the
last a number of Lee-Enfield rifles, complete with bayonets, save
one, a light sporting rifle. "This is a present for you, Reggie,"
said my father, placing the latter in my hands. "It is a thoroughly
good weapon, and I hope you will appreciate and take great care of
it. And, remember, a true sportsman never takes life heedlessly."

"But, pater," I exclaimed, "why do we want such a formidable armoury?
Sporting guns I can understand the necessity of; but these are for
fighting purposes."

"For defensive purposes," corrected my father. "You remember
Findlay's description of the islands in the Pacific where the 'San
Philipo's' treasure lies--treacherous and bloodthirsty natives
--though, of course, it does not necessarily follow that the arms
will be required. We hope and pray they may not be. But forewarned is
forearmed, and the moral persuasion of these weapons may have a
salutary effect upon any treacherously inclined natives we may.
happen to meet."

"But I thought the missionaries had tamed the savage instincts of
these natives."

"Without wishing to disparage the splendid work done by the
missionaries, Reggie, I can safely assert that on hundreds of these
islands cannibalism and the savage rites of heathen worship are as
rampant as they were two hundred years ago. It seems remarkable to
hear the ideas some people have about foreign parts. Some imagine the
Pacific to be a veritable paradise of converted natives clad in gowns
of Manchester cotton prints; while, on the other hand, I heard of the
case of a youngster going to South Africa to Port Elizabeth, in
fact--who took with him a revolver to shoot roaming Kaffirs! To
change the subject, would you mind going over to Fowey and getting
the _Record_? I've sent an advertisement, and want to make sure that
it's in."

In less than an hour I returned with the paper, and this is a copy of
my father's announcement--


  WANTED.--Twelve ex-naval men to form the crew of an auxiliary yacht
  about to make a trip round the world. Twelve months' engagement.
  Must be single men of exemplary character.--Apply by letter, giving
  full particulars of rating, etc., to Box 1245, office of this
  paper.


"That's satisfactory," said the pater. "We'll run up to Plymouth
to-morrow and call at the _Naval and Military Record_ offices, and
get the letters."

"So soon?"

"Aye; there'll be a score of replies in the post by now, if I'm not
mistaken."

We went to Plymouth as arranged, and, upon calling at the office, we
were handed a large wicker tray crammed full with letters and
post-cards.

"All these for me?" asked the pater. "Yes, sir, and almost as many
again will be in by to-night's post, I daresay."

"Then please destroy the rest, and insert a notice stating that the
vacancies have been filled, for I've no doubt that I can suit my
requirements from this budget."

From the newspaper office we went to a large firm of provision
merchants, and ordered casks and tins of provisions to be sent round
to Fowey for shipment on the "Fortuna," and thence to a sailmaker's,
where my father ordered a huge square sail to be made to the design
which he had drawn.

"What's that for?" I inquired as we left the sail-loft. "The
'Fortuna' does not carry square yards."

"Not at present," replied my father; "but she will do so ere long. I
found that on our run down from Hamble, for with the wind dead aft
there is always the danger of a gybe with a fore and aft rig, whereas
with a square sail the comfort and freedom from mishap is infinitely
greater. In the 'Trades' I have no doubt that the sail will be used
for days together."

Then twenty suits of clothing for tropical and home use had to be
ordered, together with numerous stores from a ship's chandler's,
till, almost worn out with the exertions of the day, we returned
home--but not to rest, for the huge budget of applications had to be
read and classified.

It was a curious mixture. Some letters were well written, others mere
scrawl; but the general tone of the whole batch was a willingness to
undergo any hardship rather than starve in England.

"Here are a likely dozen," said my father, after perusing nearly a
hundred letters. "Tell Johnston to come here and see if he knows any
of them."

Johnston, who was making rapid strides towards recovery, had so
impressed us with his quiet and orderly demeanour that we had decided
to take him with us, placing him on light duties till capable of
doing a regular day's work. In response to the summons he came and
read down the list of names my father had jotted down.

"No, sir, I don't think I 'know any of them."

"But do you think any of them might know you? It might be awkward,
you know."

"I suppose I must take the risk, sir," he replied. "Besides, I
shouldn't like my misfortunes to do another man out of a job."

"Very well, then. Here, Herbert, make yourself useful, and write
these twelve names on envelopes."

"But, I say----"

"What?"

"Why, with Johnston these twelve will make thirteen--horribly
unlucky, you know."

"But we also form part of the crew."

"Not as part of a paid crew."

"Well, to be on the safe side, cut down one," he said with a merry
laugh.

So that evening notice that their services were accepted were posted
to the men, and the crew of the "Fortuna" was as follows:--


  _Captain_: HOWARD TREVENA, R.N.R.
  _Mate_: HERBERT TREVENA, R.N.R.
  _Second Mate_: REGINALD TREVENA.
  _Boatswain_: PETER WILKINS, late bos'n's mate, R.N.
  _Quartermaster_: TRESCO LORD, late master-at-arms.
  _Deck hands_:--
    ROBERT DALLEY, late armourer, R.N.
    WM. STAINER, late armourer, R.N.
    EDWARD HINKS, late gunner's mate, R.N.
    FREDK MONEY, late gunner's mate, R.N.
    WM. LEWIS, A.B., late seaman diver, R.N.
    GEORGE BURBIDGE, A.B., late seaman diver, R.N.
    JOSEPH DIRHAM, A.B.
    JOHN MILLS, A.B.
    FREDK. BARNES, A.B.
    ALEC JOHNSTON, A.B. (to act as officers' steward).


In spite of the greatest secrecy on our part, rumours of the object
of the voyage began to get about, older people naturally and
correctly associating the almost forgotten "San Philipo" treasure
with the expedition, greatly to my father's anger. However, we
managed to get the arms and ammunition on board, lowering the gun by
means of tackle from our garden into a boat which we brought
alongside at high water, working as silently as we could in the dead
of night.

By Saturday the last of the stores was aboard, including two diving
suits from Siebe, Gorman & Co., and all that remained was to fill up
the tanks with fresh water and ship the crew.

The latter had been told to assemble at the railway-station at 10
a.m. on Monday, and thither my uncle and I repaired to muster the
men and take them to the vessel. To our surprise we found that, long
before the arrival of the train, four men were already on the
platform, having tramped from Plymouth, over twenty-seven miles of
hilly road, for want of sufficient money to pay their railway fares.

The arrival of the train brought the rest of the contingent--not a
man was missing--and, led by my uncle and myself, the whole party
marched in an orderly manner down the narrow Fore Street, to the
undisguised astonishment of the townsfolk. In their civilian clothing
the men looked a nondescript lot, some bearded, some clean-shaven,
and a few, departing from the naval custom, had grown moustaches,
while each man carried either a bundle tied up in a blue handkerchief
or else a black ditty-box under his arm. Nevertheless, they were a
fine body of active, middle-aged men, and, with their previous
training, would soon fall into regular sea-going routine.

Outside the "King of Prussia" the party was joined by my father, who
led the men into a room where a well-laid breakfast awaited them.
This they did full justice to, the need of a good meal being
apparently no stranger to the majority of them.

Then my father addressed them. It was the first time I had heard him
speak in public, and the warmth and earnestness of his words
astonished me. He began by telling the men plainly that the voyage
was to be no mere pleasure-trip, but occasional hard work was
required, and even actual danger might have to be faced. On the other
hand, the "Fortuna," though small, was exceptionally seaworthy, and
everything that could be done for their comfort had been provided. He
even hinted at an additional reward for their services should the
voyage come up to anticipations, although he stated distinctly, that
he gave no definite promise on that account, and finally explained
that any man who wished to withdraw could do so, and his fare to and
from his home would be paid forthwith.

However, our new crew were unanimous in their choice, and the signing
of the men's papers was proceeded with. Then the party marched down
to Whitehouse Steps, where the watermen rowed them off to the
"Fortuna."

The rest of the day was spent in getting the men accustomed to the
vessel. Proper watches were set, the starboard watch under my father
and the bos'n, the port watch under Uncle Herbert and the
quartermaster, and ship's time took the place of shore time, the
hours and half-hours being sounded by the bell.

At four in the afternoon--or eight bells, as I should have expressed
it--we went ashore to our home in Polruan. All arrangements had been
made for the proper care of the home during our absence, and the
remainder of the day was spent in receiving our numerous friends who
had come over to bid us farewell and good luck; for, now that the
final details had been completed, there was little need to conceal
the fact that the "San Philipo" treasure was, as had been
conjectured, the object of our voyage.

It was nightfall ere we left the house for the last time for a good
many months. At Polruan Quay the gig awaited us, and, urged by the
powerful strokes of the rowers, the little craft was soon alongside
the "Fortuna." In true nautical style the shrill pipe of the bos'n's
whistle was heard, and the crew stood to attention as the yacht's
officers came on board. Then, directly the gig was hoisted in the
davits, the crew returned to their stand-easy on the fo'c'sle, the
dancing beams of the anchor light and the glowing bowls of the men's
pipes dimly illuminating the shadowy forms of the seamen, as in low
tones they discussed the projects of the voyage or talked
reminiscently of bygone commissions.

"I don't think you will ever be dull during the voyage, Reggie,"
remarked my father, indicating the knot of men with a wave of his
hand. "Amongst that little crew there is to be gathered a wealth of
adventure from all the five oceans. And some of their yarns are well
worth listening to, I can assure you."

At ten o'clock the following morning my father was rowed ashore to
obtain the necessary ship's papers from the Custom-house, and half an
hour later the "Fortuna" slipped her moorings, and, dipping her
ensign as a farewell salute to the Yacht Club, glided swiftly out of
Fowey Harbour on her long voyage to the coral islands of the Pacific.

Half an hour later the grim outlines of the Gribben were lost to
sight in the mist that overhung the land, and, with every sail
drawing, the "Fortuna" rapidly drew away from the shores of dear old
England.




Chapter VIII

A RESCUE AT SEA


"THERE'S a power o' wind behind that mirk, sir," exclaimed Wilkins,
the bos'n, jerking his thumb in the direction of the dark,
ill-defined clouds that had shut out the sight of land.

"Yes, we are in for a good dusting," replied my father. "The glass is
rising far too rapidly. Make everything secure on deck, and put extra
lashings on the boats. And also," he added, as the bos'n saluted and
began to make his way for'ard, "have the jibs changed before it gets
too thick."

We were sufficiently far from land to prevent its affording much
shelter, and with the increasing wind, huge waves began to curl
viciously under our counter, threatening every moment to break over
our quarter. But the staunch little yacht rose splendidly to each
white crest, and, beyond a shower of spray that darkened our canvas
almost to the peak, hardly a drop of solid water reached our decks.
Astern, the trailing line of the Walker "Cherub" log was stretched to
almost the rigidity of an iron bar, and the indicator bell, sounding
at every quarter-knot with less than two minutes' interval, showed
our speed to be well over seven knots.

Suddenly, accompanied by a blinding downpour of hail that rolled on
our decks and clustered in white patches in our lee scuppers, a
furious squall struck us, making the "Fortuna" heel till I thought
she would never recover herself. But with a few rapid turns of the
wheel the helm was put hard up, till, relieved of the enormous
pressure on her canvas, the yacht shook herself free like a great
mastiff emerging from the water.

"Pay her head off a point now," shouted the bos'n to the seaman at
the wheel, and, without losing way, the yacht resumed her course,
churning the sea over her bows in swishing columns of spray.

While the squall lasted, I was dimly aware that I was gripping a
belaying-pin like grim death, swallowing mouthfuls of salt-laden air,
till it seemed that I was actually enveloped in water, while each
wave, as it flung itself against our quarter, shook the bulwarks till
it threatened to tear them bodily away.

In obedience to an order that was inaudible to me, several of the
crew came rushing along the deck, in spite of the terrific heel and
jerky motion of the vessel, and in a few moments the halliards of the
mainsail were paid out, and a dozen strong hands were struggling with
the cringles and reef-points of the mainsail. Directly the reef was
"knocked down," the "Fortuna" took things easier, yet with apparently
undiminished speed she threshed her way through the foam-crested
waves.

"Sail on the port bow, sir," repeated the bos'n, taking up the cry
from a seaman on the look-out for'ard; and through the driving rain
we could see a large topsail schooner, her close-reefed mainsail
streaming in ribbons, and only her foresail and inner jib set,
pounding heavily on the port-tack, the waves sweeping clean over her
sides, as, high in ballast, she listed dangerously, till one could
almost fancy that her weather bilges were showing.

"There's an old coffin!" shouted Uncle Herbert in my ear. "Four times
our size and nothing like so seaworthy."

"It's an absolute scandal to allow a ship to put to sea so high in
ballast," bawled my father, who overheard the remark. "If they insist
on a Plimsoll line to prevent overloading, why not a similar mark to
stop vessels putting to sea too light?"

"I don't know," replied my uncle, shaking the water from his
sou'-wester. "But yonder craft will be lucky if ever she makes port
in safety. Look at her now."

An extra vicious blast had come, sweeping down, making even the
"Fortuna," with her double-reefed canvas, reel; but the schooner
staggered as if struck by a solid substance, and heeled over till her
topsail yards almost touched the water, and I thought she had
actually capsized.

At length she slowly righted, and, staggering and plunging, she was
soon lost to sight in the rain-laden atmosphere.

Shortly afterwards two torpedo-boat destroyers came thrashing along
within a cable's length of our stern, their four squat funnels, caked
white with salt, belching out volumes of black smoke, through which
gleamed dark red flames, the indications of steaming under forced
draught. There was no attempt on the part of these dogs of war to
ride the waves: their sharp bows simply cut through the heaving
water, which fell in cascades from their turtle-back decks. On either
bridge could be discerned the glistening sou'-westers of the officers
on duty, as, to avoid the blinding spray, they crouched behind the
storm-dodgers, while, as the destroyers tore past, we had a momentary
glimpse of their weather-worn white ensigns, and both craft were
hidden in a chaos of spray and smoke.

"You had better get below and have something to eat," shouted my
father; but I shook my head.

"A bit queer, eh?"

"No," I replied, conscious at the same time that I did feel a trifle
uneasy.

"Then cut off down below," he repeated, "and keep out of the wet for
a time. Tell Johnston to make you some tea; you look pinched with
cold."

I obeyed, and, staggering across the slippery deck, I gained the
companion and reached the shelter of the saloon. The place was in
semi-darkness, for dead-lights had been placed over the scuttles and
the skylight covered over with tarpaulins, and the only illumination
was the dim daylight that filtered through the half-closed companion
hatch. Coming from the open air, the atmosphere of the saloon seemed
close and oppressive, and I would have willingly preferred to remain
on deck during the storm (which Uncle Herbert insisted on terming a
strong breeze) rather than be cooped up 'tween decks.

However, I lay down on one of the sofa-bunks on the lee side,
battling with a dizzy sensation that made me lose all interest in
life; but I could remember watching the antics of the swing table as
it oscillated, in spite of its construction, with the pitching of the
vessel, and wondering whether, a soda-water siphon, that was
continually sliding from one side of the table to the other, would
overbalance and explode.

How long I remained thus I have no idea, though it may have been
hours; but suddenly there was a hurried trampling of feet on deck, a
succession of orders, and the "Fortuna" went about on the other tack,
sending me flying from the berth (which was now on the weather side)
on to the floor, where I lay, covered with cushions, books, and
half-a-dozen wooden boxes which had been disgorged from a cupboard
through the lock being insecurely fastened.

In an instant my scattered senses returned, and, realizing that
something unusual must have happened for the yacht to be put on the
other tack when she was sailing free on her proper course, I sprang
to my feet and scrambled up the companion.

On gaining the deck I found the crew clustered along the lee
bulwarks, gazing intently upon a small craft barely a hundred yards
away. It was a yacht, apparently, of about three or four tons, with a
large rent in her mainsail, her storm-jib in ribbons, and only her
foresail intact.

As she fell into the trough of the huge seas she lost the wind, but
the moment she rose on the crest of a wave she was caught by the
furious gusts and heeled till we could almost see her keel and as she
heeled a long dark line showed on her white side close to her chain
plates.

"She's done for!" shouted the bos'n. "That last squall has burst one
of her seams." Crouched in her cockpit was a man whose white face was
drawn with the peril of the situation. With one hand he grasped the
tiller, and with the other he appeared to be trying to pump out the
water that was pouring into the doomed craft, occasionally desisting
to wave a frantic appeal for assistance.

Snatching a lifebuoy, my uncle rapidly bent a stout grass line to it,
and held it up for the unfortunate yachtsman to see, for shouting was
useless. In another moment the "Fortuna," which was tearing through
the water like a racehorse, had left the disabled craft far astern.

"Lee ho!" shouted the bos'n, and with a loud flapping of canvas the
"Fortuna" ran up into the wind, and, drawing on the other tack, ran
back on her errand of mercy. In spite of the sheets being slacked
well off, our stout little craft rushed towards the unfortunate
yacht, our intention being to pass as close to windward of her and as
slowly as possible, and to try and pick up the stranger with the
lifebelt, for any attempt at luffing would entail great risks to us
should the "Fortuna" drift or fall foul of the almost waterlogged
craft.

It seemed but a few seconds before we were again abreast of the
disabled yacht. My uncle, springing on to the lee bulwarks and
steadying himself with his left hand round the shrouds, poised the
lifebelt with his right, and prepared to make a cast.

"Jump for it! We'll pick you up!" shouted the men in a chorus, for we
were passing within a few yards of the stranger.

The man stood upright, and made ready to spring, but at the crucial
moment he hesitated, and the opportunity had passed. Even as he
returned to his former position in the cockpit, the little craft
flung her stern high out of the water, and with a splash and a
turmoil of escaping air she disappeared beneath the waves.

There was a general groan of dismay from the crew; then suddenly I
heard my father shout, "What's that man doing? Stop him, you
fellows!" But, before any one could raise a hand, one of the crew had
torn off his oilskins, flung a lifebelt overboard, and had plunged in
after it.

Instantly there was a rush towards the whaler. The crew stood by the
falls and waited for the order; but my father, glancing at the
mountainous waves, bade them desist.

"They must take their chance," he shouted. "The boat could never live
in such a sea. Up aloft one of you and keep a bright look-out. Lee,
ho! Hard down with your helm!"

The "Fortuna" flung about on the other tack, and with the ropes
coiled ready to throw to their comrade and the unfortunate yachtsman,
our crew anxiously awaited their opportunity.

One man with the agility of a monkey had swung himself aloft, and was
perched on the crosstrees. He shouted, but his voice was inaudible,
though by his gestures we knew that one at least of the men had been
sighted.

"Bear away a bit! Steady!"

Following the direction indicated by the look-out, I saw a dark
object on the crest of a wave. The next moment it was lost to sight
in the trough, but on the summit of the next roller I could make out
the head and shoulders of the yachtsman encircled by the lifebelt,
and our brave seaman steadying himself with one hand on the belt and
keeping afloat as unconcernedly as if in a swimming bath.

"Bear away a bit more! Stand by there, men!" shouted my father. "Be
sharp with those bowlines and haul them up roundly directly they
catch them!"

"Let's hope the poor fellow has strength to hold on," he added to
his brother. "I am afraid we are carrying too much way; yet if we
luff her, she will roll over on top of them and crush their skulls
like egg-shells."

"We must risk it. It's their only chance," replied my uncle.

"Very well, then, I will," said my father, and, raising his voice, he
gave the order: "Luff her up!"

Quivering like a wounded animal, the "Fortuna" ran up into the wind,
with sufficient way to bring, her up to the two well-nigh exhausted
men. One of the crew stationed at the main chains threw a bowline. It
missed, but the second was more successful, for it fell over the
shoulders of the stranger, and as the man paid out the line
handsomely a wave swept the unfortunate man against the ship's side,
raising him to within reach of half-a-dozen willing hands on deck. At
the same instant his rescuer grasped the bowline, and, with great
presence of mind, thrust his feet through the loop, and amid the
cheers of the crew both men were hauled over the side.

"Take both of them down to the saloon," said my father, "and tell
Johnston to get some hot water ready as soon as possible."

"Fire's out, sir," replied one of the crew. "We had to unship the
galley funnel."

"Then re-ship the funnel, and rig preventer stays to it. Should it be
carried away it can't be helped; if not, so much the better."

"Very good, sir."

"And what's this man's name?" asked my parent, indicating the gallant
rescuer, who was being assisted down the companion.

"Lewis, sir; Bill Lewis."

"Capital fellow! Capital fellow!" exclaimed my father; and, having
seen that the "Fortuna" once more lay on her proper course, he went
down into the saloon, I following him.

The excitement of the last half-hour had driven away all feelings of
sea-sickness, and, strangely enough, I felt no discomfort at being in
the cabin. The rescued yachtsman was lying motionless on one of the
berths, his body enveloped in blankets. I noticed that there was a
clean cut on his cheek, extending from the right ear nearly to the
chin, which had bled freely; and I also remarked that his hands,
though hardened by manual labour, were well cared for. Apparently he
had not swallowed much sea water, for he was sleeping soundly as if
tired out with sheer exhaustion.

His rescuer, Lewis, was little the worse for his gallant efforts, and
was sitting awkwardly in a deck chair as if out of place in the
saloon of a yacht. He rose as my father entered the cabin, and
shuffled with his feet in his embarrassment.

"I am proud of you, Lewis!" exclaimed my father, shaking him by the
hand.

"'Twas nothing, sir."

"It was a gallant deed."

"May be, sir; but I didn't stop to think. If I did I mightn't have
gone overboard."

"I'll not forget it, Lewis. I hope to send a report of your bravery
to the proper quarter at the first opportunity. Is there anything I
can do for you now?"

"No, sir, not as I knows of. Leastways, I'd like to go for'ard and
have a pipe. I'm just longing for a draw."

"Certainly, Lewis; but how did you get that bruise?" added the pater,
noticing the man's eye, which was considerably damaged and rapidly
turning a greenish black.

"While I was in the water, sir. Directly I saw the gent yonder I swam
for him, pushing the lifebelt afore me. Then I bore in mind the
instructions for saving drowning persons, to assure him with a loud
and firm voice that he was safe, though I'll allow my voice didn't
strike me as being particularly loud and firm, and neither did I feel
so very sure that he was safe. However, I did as was directed, and,
getting up behind him, I tugged at his hair to turn him on his back.
It's all very fine a-laying down regulations for saving a man, but I
reckon the fellow as wrote 'em never had to do the trick hisself, for
directly I laid hold of the young gent he twists round somehow and
plugs me in the eye. So I had to let go, and down he went again. The
next time he came up I pitched the belt over his head, and he grabbed
at it like grim death.

"After a bit he quieted down somewhat, and I took hold of the
lifebelt too, as I began to feel done up. There was no sign of the
ship, and I thought she had missed us and that I had lost the number
of my mess; but soon afterwards I saw her bearing down, and we were
taken aboard."

"Well, let's be thankful it's no worse," remarked my father, smiling.
"Now cut away for'ard and enjoy your smoke, and tell the bos'n that
it's your watch below to-night."

"Thank'ee, sir," said Lewis, saluting and backing out of the saloon
as if thankful for his release.

In obedience to an order, three of the seamen carried the still
sleeping yachtsman into my cabin and placed him in bed.

"He'll be comfortable there, Reggie," remarked the pater. "And you
can sleep on the spare bunk in my cabin to-night. To-morrow we may no
doubt hear an interesting story of his adventures. Now, tell Johnston
to hurry up with the dinner."




Chapter IX

AN ADDITION TO THE CREW


BY daybreak on the following morning the gale had moderated, and, the
wind being dead aft, the mainsail and mizzen had been stowed and the
square sail set.

We had passed Ushant light during the night and were now well into
the Bay.

When I came on deck there was nothing to be seen save an unbroken
waste of water; although the waves were not so high nor so steep,
they were of great distance from crest to crest, as, with unfailing
regularity, they rolled into the Bay from the vast Atlantic.

After breakfast I went into my cabin to see how the rescued man was
progressing. He was asleep, but while I was engaged in taking some
articles from a drawer he awoke with a sudden start and sat up in his
bunk.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"On board the yacht 'Fortuna.'"

"How did I get here? Ah! I remember."

"How do you feel this morning?" I inquired politely. "Is there
anything you require?"

"I should like something to drink, for my throat is like a limekiln.
What's this?" he added, placing his hand over his bandaged face.
"Have I had a cut?"

"Yes, a slight one," I replied. "Take it easy, and I'll send Johnston
in with your breakfast."

I went out, and, having told our steward to take the stranger a good
meal, I rejoined the pater and informed him that the man was awake.

"What are we going to do with him?" I asked.

"Put him aboard the first homeward-bound vessel we speak to, or else
land him at Gib. Poor fellow, he's had a narrow squeak, but I cannot
for the life of me understand why foolhardy fellows persist in
taking, single-handed, risks in small yachts. When we had the
'Spray,' keeping in sight of land was good enough for me, and then
only with a sharp eye on the barometer. Where he came from and where
he was making for seems a mystery, but I suppose we shall know before
long."

"How far have we come?" I asked, as I saw my father examine the
indicator of the log.

"A hundred and fifty-six miles in twenty-three hours."

"And how far before we sight land?"

"Roughly, it is three hundred miles to Cape Finisterre, and then we
shall be practically in sight of land right round the coast of
Portugal and Spain till we reach Gib."

"And where's Uncle Herbert? I haven't seen him this morning."

"But haven't you heard him? It's his watch below, and most likely
he's sound asleep and snoring. But look, here's a sight for you."

Rapidly bearing down towards us was a huge liner, her graceful hull
glistening in the sunlight as she thrashed her way through the water.
As she drew nearer we could see her decks crowded with passengers,
who were regarding, doubtless with considerable curiosity, our little
strangely rigged craft as she ploughed her way over the rollers.

We dipped our ensign, and in reply the liner's flag was slowly
lowered and as slowly rehoisted, and twenty minutes later she was a
mere speck on the horizon.

Soon afterwards the rescued yachtsman appeared' on deck, assisted by
Johnston, and, making his way towards us, warmly thanked my father
for saving his life. "You certainly were in a bit of a pickle,"
remarked my pater, offering him a deck-chair and producing his
cigar-case. "Let's hear all about it, for, with pardonable curiosity,
I am eager to learn the facts of the case."

"With pleasure, Mr. Trevena. You see, I obtained your name from the
steward, and have gathered some particulars about the 'Fortuna.' But
to proceed to the story of my adventures. My name is Arthur Conolly,
by profession I am a doctor of medicine, by choice I would be a
yachtsman, for the sea always had a strong attraction for me. When at
home I live in Dublin--or 'dear dirty Dublin,' as my compatriots
fondly term it--but on every suitable opportunity I cruise around the
British Isles in my three-tonner 'Sea Shell,' or rather, I should
say, I cruised, for my snug little craft is unfortunately at the
bottom of the sea.

"On Monday last I left Wexford Harbour, intending to fetch Falmouth
and thence by easy stages round the Solent, where I have invariably
spent the months of July and August during the past seven years. The
'Sea Shell' is, or was, a modern type of boat, with spoon bow and
short counter, and a short keel. She had a watertight cockpit, and
was in every way fitted for single-handed work, except for one thing:
she would not lie hove-to without constant attention, a fault which
the older type of straight-stemmed boats never possessed; and that
defect was the cause of my misfortune.

"All went well till I had reeled off a hundred and sixty miles by the
log and had sighted the Wolf on my port bow. The glass had been very
irregular during the last twelve hours, but just before nightfall it
came on to blow hard from the north-west. Knowing I was in the
vicinity of the dangerous Scilly Islands, I bore up to the south'ard,
intending to give them a wide berth before heading up Channel, but
about two in the morning the squalls were so frequent and violent
that I threw out a sea-anchor.

"Daylight showed that I was within five miles of St. Agnes, and the
wind having veered to the north'ard I knew that I was comparatively
safe and was in no danger of being cast ashore, though the shift of
wind had knocked up a nasty cross-sea.

"However, for six hours the 'Sea Shell' rode to the sea-anchor, but
about noon, while I was down below having something to eat, the
yacht's motion became so erratic, and such heavy seas tumbled on her
decks, that I knew something had gone wrong.

"Upon going on deck, I found, to my horror, that the riding-rope of
the sea-anchor had chafed through, and consequently, the anchor being
lost, the yacht was aimlessly tossing in the crested seas. Only one
thing remained to be done: to show the merest spread of canvas and
try and gain the shelter of the land. I managed, although I was
frequently up to my waist in water, to hoist the reefed foresail,
and, the yacht's head having been paid off, I thereupon began to set
the close-reefed mainsail. Hardly had I hoisted the throat than an
extra strong squall struck the boat, and in a moment the mainsail had
burst right along the dentre-cloths. Nevertheless I set the
storm-jib, and by dint of careful nursing I managed to keep a small
amount of way on, though every time the 'Sea Shell' rose on the crest
of a wave she was nearly knocked on her beam ends by the force of the
wind.

"Then I tried to lay her to, but she yawed to such an extent that
that manoeuvre was impossible, so I had to let her go, handling her
as gently as I could for fear of carrying away the gear.

"This went on for several hours, and though the watertight cockpit
was continually getting full of water, it drained out without a drop
getting below. After a time, however, I realized that the 'Sea Shell'
was not so buoyant as she had been, and that she plunged sluggishly
into the crests of the waves, and on looking down the hatch I found
that the cabin floor was awash, and the yacht was slowly, yet none
the less surely, foundering.

"Then, for the first time, I realized the absolute danger of my
position. During the terrible buffeting she had received, the 'Sea
Shell' had opened a seam, and the cabin being panelled, it was
impossible to caulk the leak from the inside, even had the yacht been
capable of being hove-to for a sufficient time to effect the repairs.

"Under these circumstances I was helpless. At one time I thought
seriously of cutting away the mast and gear, and riding to the
wreckage as to a sea-anchor, but the almost certainty of having more
planks stove in by the mast before I could get it clear made me
abandon that plan. So I set to work at the pump, hoping that I might
keep down the leak until, perhaps, some passing vessel might sight
me, or even--vain hope--that, even though there was no sign of the
coast, I might gain the lee of the land before the little craft sank
under me."

"It seemed hours, though in reality it must have been less than an
hour, before I was compelled through sheer exhaustion to desist, and
upon looking round, hoping against hope to see a friendly sail, I
found that your yacht was close to windward of me, and the rest you
know."

"Don't you think you tempted Providence once too often?" asked my
father. "After all, long single-handed cruises may be considered
smart in their way, but are they worth the risk?"

"No more risky than ballooning, mountaineering, or, if it comes to
that, playing football or cycling."

"No man could be keener on sailing than I am, but I would think twice
ere I made a long cruise in a craft like yours. I certainly admire
your pluck, but at the same time I think you ran a needless risk."

"A man can only die once."

"That, if I may be allowed to say so, is a foolish expression, and
one that one hears from unthinking individuals after they have safely
passed through danger. I will explain what I mean. You are still a
young man, I believe?

"Thirty years of age."

"Then, taking a moderate estimate, you are good for another thirty
years."

"From a medical point of view, I should say yes."

"Then, had you gone down with your yacht it necessarily follows that
you would have, through your own rashness, thrown away thirty years
of a pleasurable existence. I, for instance, am fifteen years older
than you are, but I still call myself young for all that; and I can
assure you that, unless a man realizes that he must make the very
best of life, his mission on earth is wasted. How many instances are
there of people living in hope of having a 'good time' at some future
period of their existence who fail to appreciate their present
position, and so waste their lives in a miserable longing for the
unattainable. Now, Mr. Conolly, I hope you will excuse my lecturing
you, but from the nature of your remark I found it impossible to let
the opportunity pass; but we will now change the subject."

For some time my father and the doctor talked about a variety of
topics, and I could see that Mr. Conolly grew deeply interested when
the nature of our cruise was told him.

"I have just mentioned to my son," said the pater, "that I propose
transferring you to a homeward-bound ship or else landing you at Gib.
Naturally we could not beat back fifty miles or so against half a
gale to set you ashore at Falmouth, so you must be our guest, willing
or unwilling, for the next few days."

"I am deeply obliged to you," replied the doctor; "but pardon me if I
make a suggestion that may not meet with your approval. Like most
Irishmen, I am a man actuated by sudden impulses. My proposition is
this: You have no medical man on board, and you are bound for the
tropics. I am a fully qualified doctor and could be handy to you in
more ways than one. Why not allow me to fill the post of medical
officer? As a matter of fact, I have been promised a berth in a big
steamship company in a year's time, so that the cruise would help
pass the time in a most pleasant and instructive manner. I would ask
no remuneration, save my rations and clothing, for, as you know, all
I possess at the present moment is the clothes I wore when I was
hauled on board. Now, Mr. Trevena, what do you think of my proposal?"

"Rather sudden, isn't it?" replied my father, laughing. "Well, well;
I must see what my brother has to say about it first, though
personally I think it an admirable arrangement."

So saying, the pater went below to arouse his sleeping brother; but
apparently they soon came to an understanding, for within five
minutes he returned on deck.

"Herbert is delighted at the suggestion. He always was a livery
subject in hot weather," said my father. "So you can consider
yourself one of the officers of the 'Fortuna.' I think you had better
stick to the cabin you slept in last night, and Reggie will have to
make the best of it."

"I don't mind, father," I exclaimed.

"It wouldn't matter if you did," returned the pater dryly. "But there
is one condition I must make, Mr. Conolly."

"And that is----?"

"On board this yacht we all, officers and men, mean to be as
comfortable as we possibly can, so there is one topic of
conversation, and one only, that I must ask you to avoid. As you are
of Hibernian birth I am afraid you will find it difficult to do so."

"Then what is it?" said the doctor, with a slight trace of anxiety on
his features.

"Politics," replied my father, with a chuckle.




Chapter X

YARNS IN THE FIRST WATCH


AT midnight on the third day after passing Ushant we had crossed the
Bay, and the white flashing light on Cape Finisterre showed abeam.
During the night the wind had fallen, but at daybreak a fresh
off-shore breeze had sprung up, enabling us to make rapid progress
under all plain sail.

Throughout the day we were in sight of the ironbound coast, which
from a distance presented an uninviting aspect. Owing to the
abundance of pyrites along the cliffs there is said to be a danger of
great deviation of the compass, and in our case we found, by taking a
series of azimuths and amplitudes, that such was the case.

Fortunately, there was no sign of mist, so that a compass course was
not absolutely necessary; but that evening the wind fell almost to a
dead calm, and the darkness was so intense that the "Fortuna's" head
was placed a point off the recognized course to prevent possible
accidents.

It was a glorious night. The air was soft and balmy, and, though
there were no stars visible, there was a curious phosphorescence on
the water that compensated for the inky darkness of the atmosphere.
In fact, it was the first evening of the voyage that could be termed
splendid, and at dinner in the saloon we had skylights and ports
opened to admit the air.

Presently came the sound of stringed instruments played with decided
skill and expression. We looked at one another with astonishment, for
music was one of the last things we expected to hear.

"Mr. Wilkins!" called my uncle through the skylight.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the bos'n, descending the companion.

"What's that noise?"

"The watch below have got up a small band," explained the bos'n.
"Shall I pass the word for them to knock off?"

"Oh, no; far from it," said my father. "But where on earth did they
get the instruments from?

"Made 'em from 'baccy-boxes and bits of wire, sir. It's an old
seaman's trick."

"They play jolly well," rejoined my father. "I'll tell you what.
We'll have a concert on deck to-night; it will please the men. Pass
the word, Mr. Wilkins."

The bos'n retired, and presently a hoarse cheer announced that the
skipper's message had been welcomed by the men; and after dinner
the fo'c'sle, illuminated with several lamps, was crowded with the
crew, who sat on inverted tub's, coils of rope, etc., while the
officers were provided with chairs from the saloon.

It seemed really marvellous what music could be obtained from such
primitive instruments as the men had constructed, and, stranger
still, the almost boyish delight that the grown-up men--with one
exception all over forty--took in the rough-and-ready concert.

The items were mostly from the old sea stock, chanties and Dibdin's
songs predominating. The bos'n led off with "Barney Buntline," and
although his version of the words varied somewhat from the original,
the chorus was taken up right lustily by nearly a score of voices,
till some belated peasant on the Iberian shore must have wondered at
the strange noise that came from the sea.


  Then often have we seamen heard
  How men are killed and undone
  By overturns of carriages
  And fires and thieves in London.
  Bow, bow, bow; rum (give it tongue, lads),
  Bow, bow, bow...


The men repeated the chorus till I felt sure their throats ached;
but, nothing daunted, they gave "Sally Brown" in approved chanty
style, followed by a quick-step on their stringed instruments.

"The Anchor's Weighed" and "All's Well" followed in quick succession,
and Dr. Conolly contributed a stump speech with a Hibernian twang
that evoked such rounds of applause that he was compelled to give
what the men, termed "a hancore."

Several other items also received tremendous applause, The Old Folks
at Home being given with such fervour that one would imagine that
every man of the crew had near relations in England, instead of which
they were practically without kith or kin; and just before six bells
"God Save the King" brought the concert to a close, the men standing
with heels together and heads bared in an attitude of devoted and
simple loyalty.

At daybreak on the twelfth day of the voyage the "Fortuna" arrived at
Gibraltar, entering the harbour under power, this being the first
time the motor had been utilized since leaving Fowey. We anchored to
the south'ard of the Rosia Mole, but hardly was everything made snug
when a naval picket-boat steamed off, informing us that we were in
the Admiralty anchorage grounds. So the anchor had to be weighed and
the "Fortuna" moved to a spot pointed out by the lieutenant of the
naval boat, close to the neutral ground, with the Devil's Tower just
showing clear of Mala Point.

Here we were immediately surrounded by a swarm of bumboatmen, who
offered us all kinds of articles, from bread to copper paint, and
from copper paint back to bread; but by liberal speech the bos'n and
the quartermaster cleared them away. The gig was lowered and manned
and we went ashore, where I made my first acquaintance with a foreign
port; for though under the British flag, Gibraltar is essentially
"foreign" in appearance, language, and customs.

Having obtained a clean "bill of health," the next business was to
order stores and water, and for the first time I realized the value
of that precious fluid, which, though excessively dear, was dirty and
not particularly sweet.

Two days later the "Fortuna" left Gib, and with a light easterly
breeze she passed through the Straits under sail and power.

"Why have we the motor running, as the wind is aft?" I asked my
father.

"Because we want to get through the Straits before the tidal stream
changes."

"But we are in the Mediterranean Sea now, are we not? I thought the
Mediterranean was tideless."

"Yes, so it is; but there is a strong tidal current--which is a very
different thing from a tide--running under us now at the rate of
nearly six knots. In another two hours it will change and be against
us. If the Straits were wide enough to admit the progress of the
tidal wave there would be a rise and fall in the ports of the
Mediterranean, but as they are not, only the tidal current rushes in
and out twice every day."

For seven days we kept in sight of the African shore, our rate of
progression averaging ninety-five miles per diem, and as luck would
have it, we missed the gales so prevalent off the Algerian coast, the
weather being balmy by day and cool at night.

On the second night after leaving Gibraltar, I strolled for'ard to
where a group of sailors were sitting on the fo'c'sle telling yarns.

"I hope you won't mind my listening," I said apologetically. "I
should like a good yarn, so carry on, just as if I were not here."

"Carry on, Joe!" exclaimed one of the men. "You were just a-goin' to
spin that yarn about the ghost of the 'M----'s' cat."

"I heard about that yarn when I was in the Channel Fleet," said
another, who had just joined the group, and was busily engaged in
ramming black tobacco into a still blacker clay pipe. "An' much as I
likes Joe Dirham, I shall be obliged to tell 'im he's a liar if he
persists in spinning that cuffer."

"'Tain't no more a cuffer than you are, Fred Money, for, as true as I
sits 'ere, I was the man who saw it."

"What! You saw it."

"Yes."

"Joe," exclaimed his chum, in a mournful voice, "is it only plain
water that you drank with your supper?"

"Never mind him, Joe," chimed in another, "but fire away."

"Well, when I was in the 'M----' in '91-- she was a rotten old
gunboat that would drift to loo'ard as fast as she would steam
ahead--we left Portsmouth for Portland with a lot of diving gear for
the Channel Fleet. It was Christmas Eve, and snowing like anything, I
remember. Just as we had cleared the Needles, the old man called me
--he was a Warrant Officer in charge--and says, 'Dirham, there's a
blessed cat in my cabin. Get hold of her and pitch her overboard or
she'll get hold of my canaries,' for he used to keep a couple of 'em
caged up. Well, I grabs hold of this 'ere cat, and the brute makes
for me and bites my finger. Although I was precious sorry for the
animal, orders is orders, but before slinging it overboard I hits it
behind the ear with a bit of iron bar, and stunned it. Then I lashes
the iron on to its neck and over the side it goes.

"Back I goes to the old man's cabin. 'All correct, sir,' I reports.
'Very well, carry on,' ses 'e, 'but first 'ave a glass of rum.'
Believe me, as I was drinking that, and the old man was sitting in
his easy-chair with his legs on the fender, of the stove, that
blessed cat, or its ghost, walked out from behind the sideboard,
slipped over my boots and under the old man's legs, and disappeared
under the bunk.

"My eyes were nearly startin' out of my 'ead, and I all but dropped
the glass on to the floor. 'What's this, you lying rascal?' roars the
old man. 'What do you mean by sayin' that you drowned that cat?' 'So
I did, sir,' I answered, and told 'im exactly what I had done. I then
searched every inch of the cabin, but no trace of the animal could be
seen, an' the door was shut all the time. ''Elp me!' says he, all of
a shake. 'It's a warnin'. Somethin's goin' to 'appen to me.'"

"And did it?" asked one of the men.

"Yes. 'E married a woman who led him a fine old dance--used to chase
'im round the Dockyard wall and up Queen Street every time 'e went
ashore, givin' 'im a piece of 'er mind."

"Is that all?" asked one of his listeners.

"Isn't that enough? I calls upon Ted Hinks to spin the next yarn."

"D'ye want to hear how I was disrated?" asked Hinks, knocking out his
pipe and helping himself from another man's pouch. "Well, here it is:
In '87, I was gunner's mate of the 'H----,' and a comfortable ship
she was, except for one luff, a chap called Warmbath. One day while
we were lying at Portland, this luff had charge of a party of men
going to the rifle-range, and, as gunner's mate, I went too.

"The men marched in two companies in sections of fours, the lootenant
and I being between the last file of the first company and the first
section of the second company. Presently I saw the Commander coming
down the hill towards us.'Here's the Commander coming, Mr. Warmbath,'
says I. 'Make the men shoulder arms by companies as he passes'--for
in those days it was shoulder, and not <DW72>, arms.

"'Who told you to tell me my business, gunner's mate?' snapped old
Warmbath, so I subsided like a thrashed cur; but I'm blowed if the
luff didn't lose his head, for when the leading section came abreast
the Commander he gave the order to 'present arms.'

"Some of the men actually obeyed the order and marched along with
their rifles at the 'present,' like those wooden soldiers that kids
play with; others sloped or shouldered arms, while the remainder
simply carried on; but every man-jack of 'em laughed outright.

"'Mr. Warmbath, you'll report yourself to me on board,' was all the
Commander said; but that was enough. When he got aboard he said it
was all my fault--I had told him to make the men present arms. He was
cautioned, I was disrated, and a precious long time it was afore I
got made gunner's mate again.'"

"Couldn't you do anything in the matter?" I asked. "Surely the men
nearest to you heard what you said to the lieutenant?"

"Yes, Mr. Reginald, they did," replied Hinks, "but there's no Court
of Criminal Appeal in the Navy--at least, not yet."

"Now, Bill Stainer, it's your turn."

"Another time, mate; it's my watch below now."




Chapter XI

THE RED SEA


NINE days after leaving Gibraltar the "Fortuna" glided into the Grand
Harbour at Malta, where, having obtained _pratique_, we remained
three days.

Owing to the strong gales and head winds, another fourteen days
passed ere we sighted the high light at Port Said, the northern
entrance to the Suez Canal. Entering between two long and extremely
low concrete breakwaters, we had to pay the necessary tolls and make
a number of declarations before authority was given us to proceed. By
the company's regulations we were compelled to make the passage
through the Canal under power, and if unable to cover the entire
length of eighty-seven miles by daylight, we should have to make
fast by night, when, except under most urgent circumstances, no
traffic is permitted.

It was noon, however, before the tedious journey commenced, and in
consequence we had little hopes of arriving at Suez before nightfall.

The bos'n had overhauled the wire hawsers, and had cleared away one
of the bow anchors, and had carried the kedge aft, so as to bring the
yacht to a standstill in the event of a mishap. The awnings were
rigged to mitigate the effects of the blazing sun, and a square of
damp canvas was placed over the motor-case to prevent the gritty sand
and dust from playing havoc with the engine.

The very monotony of the Canal made the hours drag slowly.
Occasionally we passed a steamer, sometimes having to "tie up" to the
bank to permit her to pass, but for the best part of the day there
was nothing to be seen but a dreary bank of sand on either hand, and
a long thread of sluggish water ahead. The heat, too, was terrific,
and when, as frequently happened, a sudden squall swept down from the
desert, the air was filled with particles of fine sand that made our
eyes smart in a most painful manner.

One of these squalls occurred just as a large tramp steamer, high in
ballast, was passing us. The "Fortuna," being protected to a certain
extent by the bank, escaped with a shower of sand, but the steamer,
her high sides offering an enormous surface to the blast, was blown
broadside on to the lee shore, where she stopped dead against the
bank, her propeller throwing up columns of sand and water till the
engines could be stopped, and as long as she remained in sight we
could see that the tramp was still aground.

A few miles farther we passed a "gare," or widening of the Canal,
where two large vessels could pass, and barely had we gone another
mile than there was an ominous dragging of the propeller. The man
stationed at the motor immediately stopped the engine, and the anchor
was let go. Something had fouled the propeller, and, reversing being
futile, we were hung up in a helpless condition.

"It's a case, sir, I'm afraid," said the bos'n. "I think we had
better tow her back to the siding and get help."

My father consented; the gig was lowered, and ten men rowed for the
bank, paying out a stout hempen hawser as they went. Then, in the
broiling sun, the party laid hold of the rope and marched slowly
along the bank, their feet sinking deep in the loose, drifting sand.

It took over an hour to tow the "Fortuna" back to the gare, where we
made fast and took steps to clear the propeller. Unwilling to unpack
the diving-dresses, the bos'n got hold of some Arabs and explained to
them in dumb show that something had fouled the propeller. Showing
their white teeth in a broad grin that expressed that they had
grasped the situation, two of the Arabs threw off their scanty
clothing and dived beneath the yacht's counter.

For nearly a minute they remained beneath the surface, but, on
reappearing, they made signs that a rope had wound itself round the
screw; though, in spite of the bos'n's gesticulations, the Arabs
refused to dive again, jabbering away in a language that was, of
course, totally unintelligible to us.

At that moment a stout, big-built man, dressed in a blue surcoat and
trousers and wearing a scarlet tarbouch, appeared on the scene,
riding a small and miserably lean donkey and attended by two
barefooted runners. Sliding awkwardly to the ground, he waddled to
the edge of the Canal, and, addressing us in French, asked what had
gone amiss.

The bos'n began to explain the situation, and at the same time the
Arabs appealed to him; with the utmost capacity of their voices.

"It's one of the native officials of the Canal," explained the
quartermaster, who had had previous experience of the East.

"Ask him to come aboard," said Uncle Herbert, and, stepping awkwardly
into the gig, he was rowed alongside. Puffing and blowing like a
grampus, he gained the deck, and after a few words with the Arabs he
turned to my father.

"They want to be paid in advance," he explained in French, a language
which the pater readily understood. "They are asking a hundred
piastres (slightly over one pound) to clear the propeller, as they
say the rope is wound round as hard as iron."

"Tell them that they will be paid directly they have finished the
job," said my father resolutely, his Cornish determination beginning
to assert itself, "or else I'll send our own divers down."

"Offer the old sinner five piastres for himself, sir," said the
quartermaster in a stage aside. "He is not above taking baksheesh,
I'll allow."

My father took the hint, and the Gippy jumped at the bait, for,
seizing a stout stick which one of his attendants carried, he chased
the Arabs over the side, belabouring and reviling them with all the
energy at his command. This done, he waddled breathlessly to a
deck-chair, and, seating himself, demanded the promised guerdon.

In the meantime four of the Arabs, armed with long knives, were
working in relays, two at a time, and within half an hour the
obstruction was removed and the propeller in working order.

Hardly had this task been completed and the men paid than the sun
set, and with remarkable suddenness the daylight gave place to
intense darkness, so the "Fortuna" was compelled to remain in the
gare till sunrise.

The tropical heat of the day gave place to a piercing cold, a
circumstance that surprised us, and we were glad to turn out our warm
clothing, which, soon after leaving Gibraltar, we had discarded, as
we had hoped, for months.

Just before turning in I went on deck, and, looking southwards, I
noticed a glare in the sky. It turned out to be the searchlight of
the P. and O. s.s. "Caledonia," which vessel, being privileged to
proceed through the Canal at night, carries a powerful lamp that,
with its operator, is suspended in a large cage over the bows.

Slowly the huge liner passed, leaving the darkness intensified by the
blinding glare.

"A pretty sight, isn't if?" remarked my uncle, who had joined me on
deck and was puffing at a cheroot.

"Rather!" I assented, drawing my coat collar over my ears. "But it's
too chilly to stay here, so I think I'll turn in."

"Stay another ten minutes," he continued, pulling out his watch and
peering at it by the glow of his cheroot, "and you'll see something
that will well repay the trouble of waiting in the cold."

"Now," he added, after a few minutes' interval, "look over there";
and, following the direction of his outstretched arm, I saw nothing
but the dim outlines of a break in the sand-hills that fringed the
Canal.

Even as I looked, a dazzling red disc appeared to leap above the
horizon, and in a moment the desert was flooded with a ruddy light.
The moon had risen with all the splendour that is only met with in
the rarefied atmosphere of tropic and sub-tropic climes.

In another quarter of an hour it was well above the horizon, bathing
the surrounding country in a mellow light and casting long shadows
of our spars athwart the opposite bank of the placid Canal.

"Splendid!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," assented my uncle, "and sunrise will be quite as rapid. Now go
below and have a good night's rest, and I'm certain you won't turn
out till we are nearly clear of this glorified ditch."

Uncle Herbert was right, for I did not awake till nearly noon, to
find the cabin sweltering in the midday heat and the "Fortuna"
passing through the last of the Bitter Lakes, Ismaïlia having been
left astern two hours after daybreak.

A short stay at Suez, and the "Fortuna" cleared the southern entrance
to the Canal, the town and the basins of Port Ibrahim being lost to
view at a distance of three miles.

Before midnight we had emerged from the Gulf of Suez, catching but a
short glimpse of the famous Mount Sinai against the western sky.

"You see that mountain just this side of it?" asked my uncle. "That's
Jebel Katherina, more than a thousand feet higher and two miles to
the west'ard of Sinai--yet almost every passenger on the Oriental
liners firmly believes that he has seen the actual mountain mentioned
in the Bible; but, as a matter of fact, this is the only position
from which we can see it. In less than two minutes Sinai will be
hidden by the other mountain. See, they are even now getting into
line."

Next day we were in the centre of the Red Sea, keeping to the steamer
routes to avoid possible encounters with Arab pirates, for,
notwithstanding the complete occupation of Egypt and the Soudan,
armed dhows still lurked in the little known harbours of the Arabian
coast, and did not hesitate to attack and plunder any small craft
likely to offer little or no resistance.

As a necessary precaution, and also for the purpose of exercising the
crew in the use of small arms, the rifles were issued out, and seven
rounds of ammunition were expended per man, the "Fortuna" being
hove-to at a distance of six hundred yards from a floating barrel
bearing a large red flag, while the officers observed and directed
the firing through their field-glasses.

On the whole the results were remarkably good, taking into
consideration the fact that most of the men had not handled a rifle
for over a twelve-month.

Then, to the surprise of our crew, who were ignorant of its
existence, the three-pounder quick firer was unpacked and mounted on
the deck amidships, and the "Fortuna," taking up a position at a
distance of a mile from the now waterlogged target, prepared to open
fire.

Three men were detailed off as the gun's crew, and it was a sight to
watch them as, stripped to their vests and trousers, they flew at the
quick-firer, threw open the breech-block, and placed the long metal
cylinder in the gun.

The gun-layer bent but for a few seconds over the sights, there was a
flash and a sharp deafening report, followed by a slight haze of
bluish vapour, and on looking through a telescope towards the target
I was just in time to see the flag disappear in a column of spray.

"That's good enough for you, old stick, that is!" exclaimed the
gun-layer approvingly, as he withdrew the cartridge-case, talking to
the gun as if it were a child.

"Yes, you've done remarkably well, Hinks," remarked my father. "I
don't think we need waste more ammunition."

"I pity any <DW65>s that try to work off any of their little tricks
on us, sir," replied the seaman, as the gun's crew began to clean the
still smoking weapon.

The sight of the quick-firer and the small arms had, however, given
rise to considerable speculation on the part of the crew, some
hinting amongst themselves that, after all, the "Fortuna" might be
intended for a pirate or slaver, and that they had been enticed to
ship on board under false pretences. I overheard the quartermaster
rating them, explaining that the armoury was simply and solely for
defensive purposes, and this explanation apparently allayed the faint
suspicions they had of the "Fortuna's" mission.

Soon after two bells in the first dog-watch (5 p.m.) on the second
day after leaving Suez, my father called me on deck. Rapidly
overhauling us was a large steamer flying the Turkish flag, her decks
packed with a curious swarm of humanity. As she passed we could see,
but not read, her name in Arabic characters on her stern.

"Lucky we are to windward, sir," remarked the bos'n, indicating the
steamship with a contemptuous jerk of the thumb, "or we would
nearly be driven below by the stench from her."

"Oh! How's that?"

"A pilgrim ship bound for Jidda, I'll allow. Half of 'em will be down
with the plague unless they are particularly lucky."

"Wilkins is quite right in what he has just said," remarked Dr.
Conolly, after the bos'n had made his way for'ard. "These ships,
taking Mussulman pilgrims between Constantinople and Jidda, the
nearest port to Mecca, the holy city of Mohammed, frequently have
cases of bubonic plague on board, so that they are a standing menace
to the health of Europe. Look! as it is they have left us a legacy."

In the wake of the Turkish ship were several huge sharks, two of
which, in the hope of finding better food, devoted their attention to
us, following the "Fortuna" at a distance of less than fifty yards.

Although only their black dorsal fins showed above the surface, the
transparency of the water enabled the whole of their immense bodies
to be distinctly seen. Along the Cornish coast at home, fish termed
sharks by courtesy are frequently caught, and, although of the same
family, having their mouths in the same position, they rarely exceed
three feet in length; but these monsters were twelve or thirteen feet
at the very lowest estimate.

"All right; carry on," replied my father to a request from the bos'n,
and presently the crew were busily engaged in preparing a hook and
line for their natural enemy.

Baiting the strong iron barb with a piece of red bunting, the line
was carefully lowered over the taffrail. Directly it touched the
water the sharks turned in evident alarm and disappeared, but after a
few minutes a larger one swam cautiously towards the bait.

"Look out!--he'll have it!" shouted one of the crew in his
excitement.

"Silence!" roared the bos'n, defeating his own object by the sound of
his voice, for once more the shark turned and made off. His
companion, however, approached the concealed hook, and, sinking
beneath the surface, made ready to seize the bait, but, apparently
scenting danger, he too sheered off.

"Try 'em with some pork," suggested Lord, the quartermaster, and
accordingly Johnston brought us some fat pieces of salt meat, with
which the hook was effectually concealed.

A few minutes' play with the new bait was sufficient. The larger
shark reappeared, and, heedless of danger, headed straight for the
prize. As it turned on its back; I could see its whitish yellow body,
and the huge gaping jaws fringed with triple lines of serried teeth.
There was a snap, and the stout rope tautened like an iron bar.

"Clap on, all of you!" yelled the bos'n to the men, but the order was
unnecessary, as already the eager crew were hard at work; hauling in
the line. When sufficient slack had been taken aboard, the free end
was led outside everything to the fo'c'sle, and the men were ready to
haul their prize on deck.

"Do you think we had better let them do it?" asked my father. "There
is hardly room on deck for'ard, and besides, there will be such a
filthy mess."

"Yes, let them work off their superfluous energies on it," replied my
uncle. "An extra swabbing down of decks won't do much harm."

"Reggie," he added, "stay here and watch the fun, for a blow from a
shark's tail can do a lot of damage, I can assure you."

At a word from the bos'n the men, who had armed themselves with axes
and sheath-knives, began hauling again, and, in spite of its furious
struggles, the monster was slowly but surely brought home, its
powerful teeth snapping in impotent fury on the stout iron shank of
the hook.

Then came an unexpected difficulty. The rope had been brought on
board through a fairlead on the gunwale, and it was evident that no
amount of strength could hoist the shark over the side, while with
our fore and aft rig it was impossible to utilize the yards as
derricks.

"Belay there!" shouted the bos'n, and, taking a few turns round the
capstan, the crew stood easy and awaited orders. At a word from the
bos'n one of the men swarmed up the fore-stay, taking with him a
stropped block. This he bent to the stay at a distance of twenty-five
feet from the deck, and, on going aloft the second time, the line was
roved through the block and brought down on deck.

"Up with him, my hearties!" was the cry; and by the united efforts
of ten of the crew the ponderous body of the shark came slowly over
the side and dangled from the fore-stay, its tail slashing furiously
in baffled rage.

At that moment, Johnston, the steward, hearing the outcry, appeared
up the fore-hatch, holding a large tray of boiled potatoes in both
hands. Suddenly, without warning, the strop of the block parted, and
the shark fell with a thud on the narrow fo'c'sle. Instantly the men
scattered right and left to escape the devastating sweeps of its tail
and the huge snapping jaws; but before Johnston could disappear down
the hatch a smashing blow of the creature's tail swept the dish of
potatoes from his hand and smothered the ship's officers with a
shower of sticky potato-meal!

But there was no time to enjoy the ludicrousness of the situation,
and with excited shouts the men flew at their natural enemy, raining
blows at its writhing carcass with hatchets and cudgels, till the
decks were red with blood. At last, by a well-directed stroke, the
creature's tail was severed, and the rest of the task became a
comparatively easy matter.

Within a quarter of an hour the decks were swabbed down, the shark
neatly skinned, and its jaw taken possession of by Dr. Conolly, as a
remarkably fine specimen of the Carcharias vulgaris.

During the run down the Red Sea I had frequent opportunities of
practising with my rifle on the numerous sharks that followed in the
wake of the "Fortuna," and I rapidly became an expert marksman.

Aden was reached in due course; then, without any untoward incident,
the "Fortuna" arrived at Point de Galle, in the Island of Ceylon,
having been twenty-four days out from Suez.




Chapter XII

AT THE TREASURE ISLAND


AFTER a three days' stay at Point de Galle, during which time we
shipped more stores and water, and replenished our oil-tanks with
paraffin, the "Fortuna" headed east once more.

During our stay in port we had "signed-on" a new member of the crew,
a tall and not bad-looking Arab, named Yadillah, who, by some means
or the other, had been left at Ceylon from one of the mail-boats. He
was engaged as cook and steward, thereby relieving Johnston of a task
which was, in the tropical climates, none too pleasant. Yadillah
could speak English fairly well, and, although he required special
berthing and messing arrangements, he got on with the rest of the
crew, in a most satisfactory manner.

In crossing the Bay of Bengal we caught the southern limit of the
S.W. monsoon, so that, without having to requisition the motor, we
made rapid progress as far as Singapore.

Thence navigation, mainly on account of the imperfect charting of
these waters, became difficult; and as we approached the coral
islands of the Pacific a man had to be constantly stationed at the
cross-trees by day to look out for shoal water, while at night the
"Fortuna" had to be kept under reduced sail, so as to bring-to at the
first sign of danger.

Seven months had now elapsed since the day when the "Fortuna" cleared
out from Fowey, and we were within a few hours' sail of the island
where we hoped to find the "San Philipo" treasure. Every member of
the crew was in a state of anxious tension, while my father and his
brother, though outwardly calm, were in a fever of excitement. In
spite of our sanguine hopes, there occurred the thought that possibly
our reading of the cipher might be wrong, or that some one else might
have forestalled us.

"Wind's falling light, sir," remarked the bos'n, as my father, in his
impatience, had taken the third observation that morning.

"Yes, but with luck we'll make the island well before nightfall. Tell
them to get the motor running."

Two hours sufficed to bring the jagged peaks of the Truk Archipelago
above the horizon, and shortly afterwards, in fulfilment of my
parent's forecast, the island known to us as the "San Philipo" hove
in sight.

By my uncle's suggestion we headed away to starboard so as to
approach the island in the same direction as did the fugitive "San
Philipo" and her pursuer the "Anne," and, on drawing nearer, we saw
that the island bore a strong resemblance to the description given by
my roving ancestor.

There was the hill to the south-east, with its cat's-head outlines,
and the two rugged headlands on the western side, and by the aid of a
glass we could make out the mouth of a large cave, while all around
the island, as far as we could see, was a long line of white foam,
denoting the presence of the coral reef.

"Mast-head, there! Can you make out the entrance?" hailed my father.

"Aye, aye, sir--a point on the port bow."

"Then let her go," remarked the pater to the quartermaster. "We must
get inside the reef before dark. Mr. Wilkins," he added, addressing
the bos'n, "have the anchors cleared away, and keep the lead going."

"No bottom at twenty fathoms," reported the bos'n, after a few casts
had been made.

Presently we on deck could distinguish a dark break in the turmoil of
foaming water; it was the channel into the lagoon.

"Now or never!" exclaimed the quartermaster, who had relieved the man
at the wheel, and was now steering straight for the gap. There was
not a breath of wind, and had the "Fortuna" depended solely upon her
sails we would have had to bring up till the breeze came, and with
it, possibly a heavier sea on the reef.

"If the motor plays us false we are done for," remarked Uncle
Herbert, who was anxiously regarding the smother of foam on either
bow.

"Never fear; it has served us faithfully up to the present," replied
my father. "Another five minutes will settle it."

Straight for the gap the "Fortuna" sped under full power, not a sound
being heard above the loud roar of the breakers and the quick
pulsations of the engine. On the crest of a huge wave she appeared to
hang, then, plunging into the trough, her propeller raced, and her
head fell off towards the reef. The spokes flew through the
quartermaster's hands, and the staunch little yacht recovered
herself, with tons of water pouring from her fo'c'sle. The next
moment her stern sank deeply in the waves, the propeller gripped, and
with a terrific lurch the "Fortuna" passed between the coral reefs
and gained the shelter of the quiet lagoon. The anchor was let go,
and, with a rush and a roar, the chain tore through the hawse-pipe,
and the yacht brought up in six fathoms.

We had arrived at "San Philipo" Island.

Directly everything was snugged down, darkness had fallen on the
scene, so that nothing further could be done that night. For the
first time armed watches were set, but, though the sounds of paddles
around the vessel and shouting on shore were heard at intervals,
there was no attempt on the part of the natives to molest us.

At daybreak next morning we were awake, and on going on deck we could
appreciate the natural beauty of our surroundings. The "Fortuna" lay
directly over her anchor, which could be clearly seen on the sandy
bottom. Not a ripple disturbed the placid surface of the lagoon, save
an occasional gentle swell from the breakers on the reef, where day
and night the huge green rollers lashed themselves in fury upon the
coral rocks, churning themselves into milk-white foam to the
accompaniment of a dull, subdued roar like the distant rumbling of an
express train on a still night.

From where we lay the south-easternmost, or cat's-head, mountain was
within a quarter of a mile, but only one of the western headlands was
visible, as it effectually shut out its fellow. The cave that
Humphrey Trevena had emphasized proved to be a huge rent in the
cliff, made apparently by. volcanic action. Immediately in the centre
of the southern side of the island--that is, the shore off which we
lay--was a broad expanse of white sand, backed by a gently rising
ground on which was a dense mass of vegetable growth, scrub and
coco-nut palms being indiscriminately mingled. On the beach were half
a dozen canoes, some, judging by their lofty prows and decorated
sides, being used for war purposes; the others, being lighter and
provided with out-riggers, were of the usual type used by the Pacific
Islanders for fishing.

Around the canoes, and lining the shore, were hundreds of natives,
who regarded the "Fortuna" with undisguised curiosity. By the aid of
my telescope I could make them out very clearly. They were
middle-sized, slender, and well-proportioned, though a few were of a
stature that would be considered great even in Cornwall; their colour
was almost that of the natives of the Malay Archipelago. Their
features were small, but high and well-formed, their cheek-bones
projecting, while both men and women had an abundance of glossy black
hair. The majority were entirely naked, save for a conical covering
for the head made of plaited and bleached leaves. In the foreground
many of the men wore a kind of cuirass of stiff plaited cocoa-fibre,
which was continued like half a stove-pipe to a distance of six
inches above their heads. Their arms consisted of formidable swords
with a jagged edge of sharks' teeth, and fearful-looking spears,
terminating in a triple barb. A few, whom we took to be chiefs, wore
in addition a complete covering of porcupine skin for the head, only
their eyes being visible.

"A cheerful-looking set, aren't they?" remarked the doctor, who was
also engaged in examining the throng of natives. "Do you think we are
likely to have trouble with them?"

"The greatest tact will have to be employed if we wish to avoid a
row," replied my father, with his eyes still glued to his
field-glasses. "See, some of them are putting off in their canoes."

Already they had launched two of their largest craft, while knots of
natives were busily engaged in hauling down the rest.

"Serve out the small arms, Mr. Lord, please," said my father; "but
take care that we give no sign likely to provoke a fight. Herbert,
will you see to the quick-firer and the Maxim."

Quickly, yet quietly, our preparations for defence were made. The
three-pounder was placed on its mounting amidships, which had not
been removed since the gunnery practice in the Red Sea, and the
Maxim, concealed behind a square of canvas, was mounted on its tripod
so as to command the water between us and the shore, while each man
placed his rifle, with charged magazine, on the deck within hand's
reach.

Hardly was this done than the natives' flotilla came within hailing
distance. The warriors, decked in their barbaric finery, were grouped
in the prow of their war canoes. Many of them bore livid scars, the
legacy of many a tribal fight, and in their panoply a more repulsive
and savage crowd I never wish to see. In that moment of actual danger
I felt a peculiar trembling of the limbs and dry sensation in my
throat. From the canoes I turned my eyes towards my companions. The
crew seemed perfectly cool and determined, a circumstance that
somewhat reassured me. Dr. Conolly was evidently labouring under
strong physical excitement, as if anxious to begin the fray, while my
father, though in no doubt as to the issue, was evidently reluctant
to give the order to open fire on the yelling crowd of savages, who,
brandishing their swords and spears, had drawn up within fifty yards,
the paddles of their canoes resting motionless on the water.

"Cannot we let rip at the vicious brutes?" asked the doctor. "They
will be over the side in a minute if we don't."

"Not if it can possibly be helped," replied my father. "Where's
Herbert?" he added hurriedly.

There was no sign of my uncle on deck, but, on being called, he
replied, from below, "Wait half a second."

Standing on the rail, my father held up a piece of brilliantly dyed
cloth and a string of gaudy glass beads as a peace-offering to the
aggressive natives, but the only reply was a shower of stones, hurled
from slings of cocoa-cloth, that whizzed over our heads. It was only
by quick descent that my father missed the unwelcome present.

"Lie down, men!" he shouted, "and stand by with your arms!"

Another volley of stones came from the natives, some striking the
ship's side, others humming through the rigging. As I lay flat on the
deck I saw a huge copper helmet emerge from the companion hatchway,
and Uncle Herbert, dressed in a diver's suit, without, of course, the
air tubes and lead sinkers, came on deck.

Striding to the side, he faced the warlike mob, and instantly, to the
accompaniment of a chorus of "Ohe! Owha!" the natives took up their
paddles and made for the shore.

"That's done it," laughed Uncle Herbert, removing the copper
head-dress, which was rendering its wearer most uncomfortably hot,
even in the slanting rays of the early morning sun.

"Stop, you idiot!" exclaimed my father, laying a detaining hand on
his brother's shoulders; but the warning was too late. Some of the
natives in the hindermost canoe saw the helmet being removed, and,
calling to their fellows, the whole of the boats turned and made for
the yacht.

"We are in for it this time!" exclaimed Dr. Conolly. "See, they are
making for both sides at once."

Such was the case. Two war canoes and five smaller ones (where they
had come from I do not know) made for the starboard side, and the
remaining war canoes, with three others, headed for the port side.

"Money," exclaimed my father to the man in charge of the quick-firer,
indicating the largest craft that was making obliquely across our
bows, "can you manage to put a shot through that fellow's bow?"

"Aye, aye, sir, I'll try."

Calmly, yet deliberately, the gun's crew opened the breech-block and
thrust home the gleaming cylinder with its deadly head. Hardly had
the breech-block been replaced than Money hung on the sights for a
brief second. There was a flash and a roar, and the next moment the
shot tore a gaping hole in the stem of the canoe, and, after a series
of ricochets, struck the cliff with terrific force, bringing down
large masses of rock. The stricken craft immediately became
waterlogged, its occupants, all swimmers from their infancy, striking
out vigorously for the shore, while the remainder of the boats turned
tail in a panic.

"Lower away the whaler and pick up as many as you can," shouted my
father, and, in obedience to the order, the men sprang to the falls.
The boat had fortunately been already cleared away, so that it was
the work of a few moments to lower it.

In spite of their frantic struggles, five of the natives were picked
up, tied hand and foot, and brought back to the yacht, where,
surrounded by the crew, they were placed on the deck.

"Now for a little moral persuasion," exclaimed my father, and,
looking round, he noticed a small grove of coco-palms growing close
to the water's edge at a distance of about a quarter of a mile.

"Show them a charge, Money," he continued; "then plank a shot right
into the centre of those trees."

The gunner exhibited the projectile, a common shell, to the terrified
savages; then, in full view, he placed the charge in the gun.

"Ready, sir!" he announced.

In obedience to an order, the natives were raised to their feet and
made to look in the direction of the grove. Once more the quick-firer
barked, and the highly charged projectile, bursting in the centre of
the group of trees, levelled four of them in a shower of splinters
and a dense cloud of smoke, while the savages, in their fright, sank
to the deck and uttered shrill cries of terror.

"Cut that man loose," continued my father, indicating one of the
captives, who, by reason of the loss of their fantastic war paint and
finery, were by no means unintelligent in appearance.

Offers of presents were unavailing, the man refusing to look at the
glittering baubles that were shown him. Some one suggested giving him
a plug of tobacco, but, though the offer had a strong attraction, the
native still remained in sullen isolation.

"Perhaps he thinks we are going to eat him," suggested the doctor.

"Let me 'ave a rub at him, sir," exclaimed Mills, one of the deck
hands.

"Have a what?" asked Dr. Conolly.

"A rub at 'im. Rubbin' noses is what they does in these 'ere parts as
a sign of affection like."

"By all means," replied the doctor, laughing; "I don't suppose
Captain Trevena has any objection."

Without further ado, Mills took hold of the native's shoulders, and,
thrusting his face forward, he applied his nasal organ to that of the
savage, and, as if by magic, the latter's taciturn manner completely
vanished. The remaining four prisoners were then cut loose and
subjected to the same ceremony, and, on being given a ship's biscuit
apiece, they squatted on the deck, stuffing the food down their
throats, and chattering in a lively, yet absolutely
indistinguishable, fashion.

At length, laden with the pieces of  cloth and glass beads
which, in their fright, they had previously refused, the natives were
taken ashore in the whaler, and, after exaggerated gestures of
goodwill, they vanished into the woods.

"That's satisfactory so far," commented my parent on the return of
the boat; "but we must be very careful to guard against treachery.
Pipe all hands to breakfast, Mr. Wilkins, and then we'll set about to
find the remains of the 'San Philipo.'"




Chapter XIII

WE FIND THE WRECK


THE day was well advanced before the preparations for the finding of
the wreck were completed, and the blazing sun beat down with terrific
heat upon the surface of the glassy sea. Both boats were lowered, and
tropical awnings rigged to protect their crews, who, clad in the
lightest of white clothing and wearing straw hats, were full of
enthusiasm for work in spite of the enervating heat.

In the whaler went my father, the doctor, and five seamen, while the
gig contained Uncle Herbert, three seamen, and myself; the bos'n and
the quartermaster, two deck hands, and Yadillah remaining on board
the "Fortuna." Both boats were armed, while the Q.-F. was ready for
instant action in case of a surprise.

A gentle pull for about half a mile brought the boats to the
approximate position of the wreck of the Spanish treasure ship. This
we found to be just inside the reef, which at this point was less
than a foot above the surface, the gush of the breakers causing a
heavy swell as the larger of the rollers broke over the ridge of
coral.

Inside the reef at this point the lagoon was too deep to distinguish
the bottom, while, judging from the colour of the water, it descended
abruptly into a large hole or crater. After sounding for two hours we
found that such was the case, for, although the average depth of the
lagoon was but six fathoms, there was a sunken bed, roughly 400 yards
in length and 120 in breadth, where bottom was found at from twelve
to fifteen fathoms, the deepest part being close to the reef. By the
"arming" of the lead--the tallow placed in a cavity in the bottom of
the sinker--the bed was found to be composed, not of fine white sand
like the greater part of the lagoon, but of mud and sand mixed into a
dark, gritty substance, with plenty of vegetable growth.

It was the time of spring tides, and the rise, though but three feet,
was sufficient to prevent the divers from descending on account of
the constant swell over the reef; so, while waiting till the tide had
subsided sufficiently to allow the coral to act as a breakwater, the
grapnels were brought into play in the hope of finding some portions
of the wreck.

Cast after cast resulted in nothing more than the disturbing of the
bottom to such an extent that the clear water became discoloured till
it resembled liquid mud, and though masses of long, tendril-like
seaweed were brought up, there were no indications of any foreign
substance lying on the floor of the lagoon. At length one of the
irons brought up a piece of wood, water-logged and covered with weeds
and barnacles.

Whipping out his knife, Uncle Herbert scraped the excrescences from
the piece of timber and, to the delight of the crews of both
boats--for the whaler, on hearing of the find, had come alongside the
gig--he announced that it was a fragment of oak planking, with the
marks of the bolts and trenails still plainly visible.

"It's part of an old ship, beyond doubt," he remarked. "See! the wood
is almost as hard as iron, yet black with years of submersion in salt
water. I think we are somewhere near the mark."

"So far, so good," replied my father. "But I think we'll have a spell
now. Just buoy the spot before we leave, and the divers can descend
later in the day."

We returned to the "Fortuna," the boats being left at the booms
instead of being hoisted inboard, while the diving-suits were
carefully overhauled and the valves tested.

While we were at lunch the bos'n reported: "Natives coming off, sir."

"Bother the natives!" exclaimed Dr. Conolly. "Their attentions are
becoming too frequent. Let's see what they want this time."

Upon going on deck we found that a fleet of twenty small outrigger
canoes was approaching, their occupants being without the war
costumes which they wore on the previous occasion. As they came
nearer they waved their hands in token of friendship, and displayed
baskets of yams, coconuts, taro, and bananas, while one or two had
live pigs trussed to bamboos.

"We shall have to watch them carefully," remarked my father,
"although they are not armed. Keep your rifles handy, but on no
account frighten them. The provisions will be most acceptable, for we
will have to be dependent on the island for food and water for some
time."

The leading canoe came dexterously alongside, and a tall, well-built
man, who was apparently a chief, sprang up the side and gained the
deck, accompanied by five of his companions. Others would have
followed, but by a peremptory gesture the bos'n kept them off.

The chief, who was head and shoulders taller than the rest of the
natives, ran towards my father and went through the nose-rubbing
ceremony, doing the same honour to my Uncle Herbert, Dr. Conolly, and
myself; then, rapidly speaking a few words to his companions, he made
signs for us to accept the presents they brought.

In a few minutes the various eatables were flying over the bulwarks
in a manner somewhat resembling, but far more pleasant than, the
shower of stones with which they had greeted us on the previous day,
till the skylight was heaped with enough fruit and vegetables to last
us a week, and half a dozen squealing pigs lay struggling in the
scuppers.

In return we presented the chief with a small looking-glass, which he
hung round his neck, a hatchet, some cloth and beads, and two empty
three-pounder brass cylinders. The latter he received with
considerable trepidity, but finally he bound them with a strip of
cocoa-fibre and dangled them from his mop of thick hair, laughing in
high glee as they clanked with every movement of his head.

We then took him all over the yacht, keeping a sharp eye on the
natives, who, having recovered their usual spirits, were laughing and
talking and making signs in dumb show like delighted children, and
showed a tendency to pilfer any small metal articles they could
conveniently hide. Even when detected in the act of thieving they
would roar with merriment as if proud of being found out, and on
putting down the stolen articles they would rub noses with the
nearest member of the crew, and immediately lay hands on the next
object that took their fancy.

For the chief's edification the Q.-F. was discharged, upon which he
fell on the deck and hid his head in his arms. To still further
impress him, a barrel was towed to a good distance from the yacht and
a few rounds from the maxim knocked it into a multitude of splinters.
The bilgepump took his fancy to such an extent that he ordered two of
his followers to continue working on it, till the pump sucked dry
with a gurgling noise that caused the men to drop the levers as if
they were red-hot.

At length, after many signs whereby he clearly expressed a wish for
us to visit him ashore, the chief was induced to go over the side,
and to the accompaniment of a weird song of welcome uttered by fifty
lusty voices, he was paddled at a great rate to the beach.

"A spell ashore will be a change, Reggie," remarked my father. "Shall
we have a look at their village?"

"Will it be safe?"

"I think so, if we take proper precautions. The natives evidently have
had a good object-lesson, and I don't think they will give us any
trouble."

So the gig was manned, and my father, the doctor, myself, and five
men went ashore. We were all armed, and, in addition, four large
breakers were taken in order to replenish the supply of fresh water.

"We will be back within two hours, I hope," said my father to Uncle
Herbert on pushing off; "keep an eye on the shore, however, although
I don't anticipate any trouble. In the meantime get the diving-gear
into the whaler and we'll make a start directly we return."

Nearly the whole village awaited us on the sandy shore, and once
again the ceremony of rubbing noses was performed with the chief and
several of the head men. Leaving two of the men to guard the boat,
with instructions to lie a few yards off shore and to fire their
rifles should they hear the report of ours, we made our way towards
the village, accompanied by the chief men and followed by the
shouting throng.

There was a broad but winding path through the dense scrub, which,
ascending a gentle rise, presently entered a thick belt of
palm-trees. On one side of the road was a bubbling stream, but from
the "Fortuna" there were no signs of its entering the sea, so we
concluded it fed a lake in the depths of the brushwood.

On emerging from the palm-wood half an hour later we came upon a
large clearing, in the centre of which was a stockade surrounding the
village. A narrow gateway gave access to the huts, which were
substantially built and roofed with palm-leaves. The chief led the
way to his house, a long structure built of trimmed trunks of trees,
decorated in many vivid colours.

Outside was a kind of veranda, under which rugs of coco-fibre were
placed, and squatting down on his heels, the chief motioned us to do
likewise, while pieces of baked meat, yams, and coco-nuts were placed
before us.

"I don't think we had better touch the meat," remarked the doctor.
"It might be----" and a suggestive shrug of his shoulders completed
the sentence.

"Do you think it possible that these men are cannibals?" I asked.

"Possible and highly probable," replied Dr. Conolly. "But that we
shall soon find out."

Presently the chief clapped his hands, and the crowd in front of us,
who were regarding us with the greatest curiosity, fell back, forming
a large semicircle. Into the space sprang two men, dressed in full
native armour of thick fibre with fish-skin helmets, and without a
moment's hesitation they attacked each other with large clubs of
heavy wood.

Yelling and shouting, they jumped about with marvellous agility,
their ponderous weapons clashing with a dull thud so frequently that
the sound resembled the beating of a rattle.

"Don't worry, Reggie," said my father, noticing the anxious look on
my face; "they are only playing to amuse us--a sort of return on the
part of the chief for showing him----"

"Are they playing? Look!" exclaimed the doctor, springing to his
feet, for at that moment one of the combatants, nimbly avoiding a
sweeping blow, had shortened his club and struck his opponent fairly
between the eyes. The fish-skin crumpled before the blow as if made
of paper, and the man sank senseless to the ground, and with a whoop
of triumph the victor tore off the other's head-dress, and, drawing a
jagged-edged sword of shark's teeth, proceeded to make a variety of
fancy cuts and passes before hewing off the head of his senseless
victim.

"Stop that!" shouted the doctor, in a voice that made his meaning
perfectly clear, and, seeing that the savage was still bent on
carrying out his intention, Dr. Conolly sprang over the intervening
ground in three bounds, and, before the man could grasp the
situation, he struck him such a blow on the extremity of the jaw-bone
that, in spite of the protection afforded by the stiff cocoafibre,
the native was hurled backwards as if struck by a thunderbolt.

Fortunately for us, the chief took this interruption in apparent good
part; the stricken victor of the fight picked himself up and
disappeared amongst the crowd while the senseless man was carried to
a hut in a most indifferent manner by a party of women.

Presently my father made signs to the chief that he would like to
inspect the village, to which request he assented.

Facing the chief's hut was a stockade similar to, though smaller
than, that which surrounded the village, and towards this he led the
way. At the gateway were two men, dressed in long cloak-like dresses
of white feathers, their faces painted red and yellow, and their hair
stiffened out like an enormous turban. Bending thrice, the chief made
obeisance to these fearsome-looking individuals, then he turned and
walked slowly past the gate, without attempting to enter.

"What's inside, I wonder?" exclaimed the doctor. "Let's have a peep
in." And, leaving us, he made for the entrance to the inner stockade;
but, before he could carry out his intention, the crowds of natives
who followed in our footsteps ran between him and the gate, uttering
shrill cries of rage, while the chief, roused to sudden anger, seized
him by the shoulders and dragged him away, as if incensed at the
doctor's audacity.

It seemed as if a serious affray was imminent, but at length the
tumult died away, and the chief resumed his tour of inspection,
though, I noticed, he scowled at Dr. Conolly whenever he glanced that
way.

"They cut up pretty rough over that affair, didn't they?" remarked
the doctor, on returning to the shore.

"Yes; I thought we were in for trouble. You really must be careful,
Conolly, not to offend them."

"But I couldn't sit there and see a fellow's head hacked off in that
cold-blooded fashion."

"I do not refer to that, although the consequences might have been
awkward. It's the other incident. No doubt that enclosure contains a
temple, and is held in veneration by these savages."

"They are only a horde of heathen fanatics."

"Yes, but there are quite enough of them to wipe us out. Remember, we
are not here to give the British Government an excuse for colonial
expansion, but to try and wrest a treasure from the depths of the
ocean. However, here come the men with the breakers, so we'll hurry
back to the yacht."

The fresh-water barricoes were placed in the gig, and we shoved off,
the boat cutting through the placid water at a great pace, for much
work had to be done in the three hours that remained before sunset.

On running alongside the "Fortuna" the breakers were slung on board,
and, in company with the whaler, in which were the divers and their
apparatus, we made for the buoy marking the spot where the piece of
timber had been brought up by the grapnel.

Here the whaler was anchored fore and aft, and the two divers, Lewis
and Burbidge, who were already clad in their dresses, were taken in
hand by their attendants, who proceeded to affix the lead weights to
their shoes, back, and chest. Then the copper helmets were firmly
secured, the life-line and air-tube connections made, and the glass
front was screwed in position.

The air-pumps began to work, and, assisted by willing hands, both
divers crawled over the side of the whaler, and amidst a turmoil of
bubbles caused by the escaping air, they sank beneath the surface.
For a considerable distance they were plainly visible, but gradually
their grotesque outlines grew fainter and fainter, till a slight
bubbling on the surface alone betrayed their whereabouts.

Over half an hour passed, but no signal came from either man, though
we observed that the water became discoloured with dirt, and the
train of bubbles, after leading some distance from the boats, finally
became stationary. The divers had ceased their submarine walk, and
had evidently found something worthy of their attention.

At length came a series of tugs on the life-lines, and slowly ropes
and air-tubes came home over the gunwale, till both copper helmets
appeared simultaneously on opposite sides of the whaler, where ready
hands helped the wearers on board.

"Found anything?" asked my father, the moment the glass discs were
unscrewed.

"Yes, sir," replied Lewis, who held in his hand a weed-grown object
that had once been a dead-eye. "Yes, sir. She's there, right enough,
but she's sunk in the mud and sand, and her decks are covered with
long weeds ."

"Aye," assented Burbidge. "She's on an even keel, but nearly flush
with the bottom; and, worse luck, her decks seem as sound as ever
they were."

"Not worse luck," replied my father "for had the decks been rotten,
the timbers would have been rotten also, and the wreck would have
been strewn all over the bed of the lagoon. All we have to do, my
lads, is to put a charge under her upper deck and blow it up."

"And then?" asked the doctor.

"And then," rejoined my father, with a voice that carried conviction,
"we'll bring up the treasure."




Chapter XIV

A TERRIBLE ORDEAL


FOR the next four or five days the work on the hull of the ill-fated
"San Philipo" proceeded apace; for, as the announcement had been made
that all hands would be entitled to a share in the proceeds, the crew
loyally assisted in the operations, working long hours, in spite of
the terrific heat, to bring about the ultimate success of the
undertaking.

The natives of the island were very attentive in their visits, and
they gave no signs of animosity, but, on the contrary, seemed more
like curious children than the savages who had attempted to board the
"Fortuna." Although we bore in mind the warning given in nautical
works against the treachery of the inhabitants of these islands, we
came to the conclusion that these were too thoroughly overawed by our
armed strength to attempt to molest us further; so excursions were
frequently made on shore without observing any cause or symptoms of
aggression. Nevertheless, none of us ever set foot on the island
without being armed.

"The watering party are going ashore this afternoon," remarked Dr.
Conolly to me on the fifth day after our arrival off the island. "I
think I'll have a run up to the village. Would you like to come with
me?"

"Rather!" I replied enthusiastically.

"Then ask your father if he has any objection."

"By all means go," replied the pater, when I mentioned the matter;
"but, mind you, no skylarking. Take your sporting rifle with you, but
on no account shoot at anything, for the natives have peculiar
notions, regarding certain animals with almost religious veneration;
and should you shoot one of their pet pigs--almost the only animals
on these islands--you may bring the whole tribe of savages about your
ears."

So that afternoon we went ashore, and, leaving the men with the
water-breakers, the doctor and I, accompanied by Yadillah, made our
way towards the village, followed, as usual, by a throng of curious
natives.

As we passed through the coco-nut grove swarms of pigs and fowls
crossed our path, while overhead we saw numerous brilliantly
feathered birds, which, curiously enough, were songless. Presently we
came to the part of the road where the little stream babbled by the
side of the path.

"I wonder where that brook runs to," remarked Dr. Conolly, glancing
towards the thicket into which it plunged. "I don't remember seeing
the spot where it joins the sea."

"It will be a hard matter to follow it," I replied, pointing to the
dense clusters of prickly shrub that formed a formidable barrier over
its course. "But surely it must reach the sea somewhere."

"Not necessarily; but, if it does, its outlet must be on the shore
off which the 'Fortuna' is lying, otherwise it must defy the laws of
gravity and climb the hill on our right. My impression is, however,
that it falls into a vast chasm, and the basaltic nature of the rocks
strengthens my conviction."

"That sounds interesting."

"It does. As the island is composed largely of basalt, and shows
signs of volcanic action, there can be no doubt as to its origin.
Thousands of years ago a mighty earthquake must have shot this and
hundreds of other islands above the surface, and from the floor of
the vast submarine plateau the coral builders are doing their work of
making new ground."

"Shall we try to trace the course of this stream, then? Yadillah has
a large knife, so that we can clear a path through the scrub."

"Well, there's no harm in attempting it. Yadillah, you black imp!"

"Yas, sahib."

"Cut a path for us through this stuff." The Arab attacked the
undergrowth vigorously, and, working as he went, disappeared in the
tunnel that he had cut above the stream. Presently he returned with
the information that the thicket extended only a short way, and that
the brook ran through a dense coco-nut grove.

"Lead on, then, Yadillah," exclaimed the doctor. "You follow, Reggie,
and I'll bring up the rear."

"Clear off, you <DW65>s," he added, speaking authoritatively to the
natives, who were regarding our movements with ill-concealed
excitement. The doctor's words and actions had the desired effect,
for the crowd of followers stood back, jabbering incessantly, save a
few who made off towards the village.

Although we kept our thick water-tight boots on, the water was
deliciously cool as we waded down the stream, bending low to escape
the rough tendrils that overhung the low tunnel that the Arab had cut
for us. A few steps brought us to the other side of the vegetable
barrier, and, as Yadillah had said, the brook flowed through a fairly
dense palm-grove, its bed being composed of hard, slippery rock.

After we had proceeded a few hundred yards the doctor suddenly
exclaimed--

"Hullo! This looks interesting. There's a well-worn path here. I
suppose it leads to the village."

"But why interesting?"

"For one reason, there is no actual necessity for the natives to make
a well-worn path to the brook, as plenty of water can be had in the
village; for another, I think we have stumbled on some secret place
where these savages hold their religious ceremonies. I am not sure,
mind you, but the circumstances point that way."

The path descended abruptly into what appeared to be a vast circular
hollow, though the dense clusters of trees and bushes prevented us
from seeing the opposite side of the rock-bound circle. The stream
now became a rushing torrent, leaping from rock to rock in a series
of spray-fringed cascades, and the only sound that broke the silence
of the spot was the noise of the falling water.

"This must have been the crater of an active volcano at one time,"
said the doctor in a low tone, as if influenced by the solitude of
the spot. "I think we'll find I am right about the outlet of the
stream."

At length we reached the bottom of the vast cavity, and in the
unaccustomed twilight caused by the foliage and the overhanging rocks
(though it was still broad daylight) we could see a large pool of
dark water, and, surrounding this lakelet, were a number of posts,
each about six feet in height, and most of them were surmounted by a
grinning skull, while a fetid atmosphere hung over the place like a
pall.

I felt the colour leave my face at the horror of the sight, and,
glancing at the doctor, I noticed that his jaw was firmly set and his
eyebrows knitted in grim determination. Yadillah, though used to
scenes of cruelty in his younger days, turned an ashy grey, and I
heard him mutter a sentence in which the word "Allah" caught my ear.

"What does it mean?" I whispered.

"They are the skulls of men killed in tribal fights, to take the
mildest view of the situation," replied Dr. Conolly. "But I should
not be surprised if this is the scene of gruesome practices of
cannibalism."

"Come on, let's get away from this horrible place," I exclaimed.

"One moment," he replied, and, picking up a piece of stone, he threw
it into the pool, which, although it obviously was fed by the stream,
was absolutely unruffled on its surface.

The ripples caused by the stone had barely reached the edge of the
pond when a loathsome head appeared above the water and a pair of
lidless eyes stared malignantly at us. Then, with an eel-like motion,
the monster began to swim towards the spot where we were standing. It
was a gigantic water-snake.

"Ugh, you brute!" shouted the doctor, and, regardless of the
consequences, he drew his Webley revolver and sent a .441-in. bullet
crashing through the monster's head. With a quick motion the reptile
turned and disappeared beneath the surface, discolouring the dark
water with its blood; but hardly had the echoes of the report died
away when the surrounding brushwood seemed alive with men, who,
uttering furious cries, made directly for us.

The surprise was complete, for before the doctor could raise his
weapon or the rest of us lift a hand in self-defence we were borne to
the ground and bound hand and foot with ropes of coco-fibre.

The next few moments seemed like a dream. I was dimly conscious of
the horde of yelling, savages, who danced around and over our
prostrate bodies with every attitude of demoniac fury. Three of their
number, evidently priests, judging by their fantastic garb and the
bizarre markings of red and white paint that concealed their faces,
stood by the edge of the pool solemnly calling upon their outraged
deity; but whether the brute was dead or only wounded I could not
ascertain, for their efforts were in vain.

At one time it seemed as if the natives would have thrown us into the
gruesome pool, but after a great deal of excited jabbering they
eventually lashed each of us to a long bamboo and, carried between
two men, we were taken towards the village, the shouting natives
following in a disorderly mob.

The path led to a gateway other than the one by which we had entered
a few days previously, but we were carried to the open space in front
of the chief's house. It was a very different reception from our last
visit that now awaited us, for the chief, after receiving a report
from the priests, stepped over to where the doctor was lying and
placed his foot on his neck. He then addressed the crowd, and at the
conclusion of his speech a mighty shout went up, and, lifted shoulder
high, we were borne into the inner stockade, the same which Dr.
Conolly had tried to investigate, and were placed side by side on a
low wicker bench.

Though tightly bound to the bamboo pole, I could move my head
slightly--just enough, in fact, to see my companions. I was lying
between them. The doctor was writhing ineffectually in his bonds, his
face red with the exertion; Yadillah's features were absolutely
impassive, the Asiatic fatalism having supreme mastery over any
emotion under which he might be labouring.

We were alone, for the priests and the crowd of natives were without
the gates, making the place ring with their blood-curdling shouts.

At last by a great effort I raised my head sufficiently to look
before me, and facing us was a huge wooden image, bedaubed with paint
and feathers, while in front was a row of skulls painted a vivid red
and an immense block of polished stone. What was behind me I could
not observe, but I knew that there was a fire burning within a few
yards of where we were lying.

"Reggie," said the doctor in a low tone that I hardly recognized, "I
am afraid we are done for. It's all my fault."

"What's going to happen?" I asked fearfully.

"I cannot say," he replied. "But unless we are rescued I doubt
whether we'll see to-morrow's sun. Idiot that I was to let fly at
that pond brute!"

"Do you think they heard the shot on board the 'Fortuna'? If so,
they'll think something is wrong and will send a search-party to look
for us."

"The distance was too great, and we were in a deep hollow. Our only
chance is that they will search for us when we do not return by
sunset. Are you hurt?"

"No, only stiff. Are you?"

"My neck is pretty sore where that brute of a chief trod on it. I
should dearly like to have the chance of settling with him. Ah! here
they come again!"

Five or six of the savages approached, bringing with them another
bound prisoner, a native, whom they placed next to Yadillah. Then,
unlashing us from the bamboos, they cut away most of our clothing and
lashed us to the block of stone in front of the idol, our arms being
extended above our heads in an excruciating position.

The native prisoner was on my extreme left, Yadillah between him and
me, and Dr. Conolly on the right. The priests then bent over the
native and did something which caused him to groan dismally. They
did the same to the Arab, but not a sound came from his lips; then it
was my turn. I could not see what they were doing, but in my
imagination I felt the sharp point of a knife against my bare chest,
and I could hardly forbear from shrieking aloud. However, I still
lived, and by craning my neck I saw that the priests were painting a
black spot surrounded by a white circle on the doctor's ribs
immediately over his heart. Whatever it meant, we had all been
treated in the same way; but the fact of being fastened to what was
undoubtedly an altar-stone told me that we were to be sacrificed to
the grinning idol.

At length the sun set, and the short tropical twilight gave place to
intense darkness. The village was as silent as the tomb, and,
stretched upon that awful bed, my ears were intently listening for
the faintest sound, while my eyes tried to discern the grim outlines
of the idol, expecting every moment to be my last.

Suddenly above the distant palm-covered hills the disc of the full
moon appeared, and instantly the air was filled with the shouts of
the savages, who, beating drums and clapping their hands, poured in
through the gate of the inner stockade in a compact body, till the
courtyard of the temple was filled to overflowing.

The bright lunar beams cast the shadow of the idol slightly in front
of our feet, but the priests, using some rough mechanical device,
thrust the terrible image forward so that its shade, as the moon rose
higher, would inevitably fall athwart our bodies. Into the monster's
outstretched hand was placed a long brass-hilted sword, which
overhung us in a menacing manner.

The shouting ceased as if by magic, and the priests with much
ceremony killed three fowls, holding their bodies towards the moon
and afterwards sprinkling the idol with their blood. Then, holding
the doctor's revolver in a suppliant attitude, one of the savage
officiates presented it to the idol; but as he did so he must have
touched the trigger, for the weapon exploded, sending a bullet
through the priest's arm and bringing down one of the natives in the
crowd of worshippers. Superstitious awe fell upon the multitude; but
with marvellous self-control the wounded priest picked up the
revolver and, regardless of his arm, which hung helpless at his side,
placed it at the feet of the idol.

In absolute silence the worshippers looked towards the priests, who
in turn were eagerly regarding the upward path of the satellite.

During that awful time I lay in a sort of stupor, realizing my
danger, yet filled with a complete indifference as to my fate. I was
dimly conscious of the grinning idol, the fiendish painted faces of
the priests, and the shouts of the crowd, which sounded like the
subdued roar of a number of wild beasts; but the whole time my
thoughts were fixed upon my home in peaceful Cornwall, and the
various trifling incidents of my life flashed in quick succession
through my brain.

The priests, one holding the knife in his uplifted hand, again
watched the progress of the fateful shadow as it slowly climbed the
Arab's side and approached his bare chest. In a firm voice the Moslem
made the declaration of his faith: "Walla ghalib illah Allah!" he
cried defiantly, and awaited the fatal stroke.

But it never came. The priest gave a hasty glance towards the moon,
then, with a yell of superstitious terror, he dropped the knife and
ran screeching through the crowd. The other priests followed his
example, the panic became general, and in less than a minute the
temple was deserted, save by the bound but living men, while from the
village came the terrified wailings of the demoralized savages.

I spoke to the doctor, my voice broken and feeble, but no reply came
from his lips; then I turned my head towards the Arab, who was
vigorously but ineffectually struggling with his bonds, and he, too,
had his eyes fixed on the moon.

My torpor had passed, and now I was eager to see the cause of this
sudden diversion in our favour, and, following the direction of
Yadillah's glance, I saw a dark shadow slowly creeping over the
surface of the moon, and already its light was waning.

It was an eclipse; the penumbra had extended over half the
satellite's hemisphere, and the umbra was rapidly following. To the
ignorant savages the phenomenon could have but one meaning. They had
offered sacrifices to the goddess of the night, and the goddess by
hiding her face had scorned them, and dire calamity was bound to
follow this mark of rejection.

How long I lay on that stone of sacrifice I cannot tell, but
throughout the whole of the total eclipse, when everything was as
dark as the blackest night and nature was hushed into absolute
silence, I was fully awake to the possibilities of rescue or death.
At length the umbra began to pass slowly across the moon, and a dim,
greyish light faintly played on the grim outlines of the temple. In
another two hours it would be daylight, and the savages would return
and hale us to our deaths.

But presently I heard the sound of footsteps, not the light tread of
the barefooted savage, but the tramp of booted men, and lusty voices
shouted our names. We were saved!

"This way! Here, in the temple!" I cried as loud as my exhausted
strength would permit; and as the crew of the "Fortuna," headed by my
father, rushed into the stockade my senses left me, and I fell into a
deep swoon.




Chapter XV

THE DEFENCE OF THE TEMPLE


WHEN I recovered my senses the sun had risen above the horizon, and I
found myself lying within the stockade of the temple--not in the
clutches of the bloodthirsty savages, but surrounded by my friends.
Yet without the wooden fence were the natives, who, judging by their
shrill cries and shouts of defiance, had recovered from their
superstitious panic. I sat up and looked wearily around.

The idol, with its outstretched sword, doubtless a relic from a
castaway Spanish warship, still remained as if to dispel any thoughts
that the previous night had been but a horrible dream; there was the
stone of sacrifice, and two smouldering heaps of charred wood still
marked the spot where the fires for the interrupted cannibal feast
had been lighted.

The stockade had been hastily adapted for purposes of defence. The
Maxim, on its light tripod, commanded the open square without the
gate, and around it was a group of seamen, to whom my father was
giving various orders.

Uncle Herbert, with the rest of the men--for the whole of the
"Fortuna's" crew save two, who were left on board, had taken part in
the brave attempt at rescue--was busily engaged in loopholing the
stockade at convenient distances, while Dr. Conolly, who had
apparently completely recovered from his terrible ordeal, had
regained possession of his revolver and was overhauling its
mechanism. Yadillah still preserved his impassive demeanour, but into
the folds of his voluptuous girdle, which he had recovered in a
practically unsoiled state, he had thrust a long knife and a heavy
Service revolver.

"Hello, Reggie!" exclaimed my father, who, seeing me slowly arise,
had left the party with the Maxim and had hastened over to where I
was sitting. "Feeling better, eh? Well, pull yourself together, and
give a hand, for every man has his work cut out if we want to get out
of this fuss with whole skins."

He spoke cheerily, but I afterwards learnt he was almost distracted
when on the arrival of the rescue party, too late as he feared, we
had been found bound to the altar stone.

I staggered to my feet, and, dizzy and faint from the effects of
being in a cramped position during those terrible hours, I had great
difficulty to prevent myself from falling, but a draught from a tin
pannikin revived me wonderfully. My sporting rifle was hopelessly
lost, so, picking up a revolver and a well-filled bandolier, I made
my way across the courtyard to where the Maxim was trained ready to
open fire.

The natives had gathered in a dense and disorderly mob around the
chief's house and were making preparations to rush the gateway of the
stockade. There were, I should think, nearly a thousand of them,
against which a little band of Britishers, fifteen in all, had an
almost superhuman task to perform, the result of which was to be
either victory or a dreadful death.

"Steady, lads! Here they come!"

The two men at the Maxim, cool and collected, worked as calmly as if
taking part in a sham fight.

"Commence!"

How shall I describe the terrible scene that followed?

Pop-pop-pop! Pop-pop-pop! The cartridge belt with its string of 250
rounds of .303 ammunition began to run swiftly through the
breech-block, and from the water-jackets the steam rose in a thick
cloud.

The centre of the dense mass of natives was literally crushed and
beaten to the earth, but with redoubled shouts the flanks converged
on the gate. At the critical moment there was a sudden pause in the
firing--the Maxim had jammed!

Rapidly the men withdrew the belt, to find that a badly placed
cartridge had projected sufficiently to prevent its passing through
the breech; but even as they were thus engaged the foremost of the
savages were almost within striking distance of the gate.

In obedience to a hoarse order the rest of the men temporarily
forsook their stations at the loopholes, and, doubling up with fixed
bayonets, poured in a rapid magazine fire upon the dense mass, while
the deeper crack of the Webleys added to the deafening noise.

With a reckless disregard of their own safety; the natives,
brandishing their terrible sharks'-toothed swords and spears, rushed
dauntlessly towards the gate. Some, bearing the bodies of their
slain comrades, strove to cast them upon the bayonets to break down
the line of glittering steel; others, trusting to the protection
afforded by their shields, found to their cost that fanatical bravery
was useless before the weapons of the white man.

In the struggle we did not come of scatheless. One of the seamen,
Barnes, lay on the ground, his leg transfixed with a jagged spear;
nevertheless he continued firing, emptying his magazine with
undiminished energy. Another, though who it was I was at the time
unable to see, was doubled up in a heap by the side of the Maxim,
while others received wounds of a less serious nature.

Notwithstanding the hot rifle and revolver fire, the savages kept up
the attack with indomitable courage till, the jam having been
cleared, the Maxim reopened fire, and under the withering blast the
attackers melted and dispersed in utter disorder, leaving over a
hundred of their number piled in ghastly heaps before the gate. Nor
did they cease their headlong flight till well out of range.

The moment the fight was over, the doctor began his work of
succouring the wounded. Barnes's case was by far the worst, as the
fearful wound caused by the triple-headed spear had severed an
artery, while Dr. Conolly had reason to suspect that the weapon was
poisoned. Being without medical appliances, all that could be done
for the sufferer was to apply a rough tourniquet, carefully wash the
wound, and place a temporary bandage round the limb. The other man,
who turned out to be Hinks, the "No. 1" of the Maxim, had been
stunned by a large stone thrown at close range; but by a liberal
application of cold water, of which there was fortunately a good
supply, he was revived.

"We must get back to the ship as soon as possible," said my father.
"The ammunition will run short if we stay here much longer."

"Let's hope they won't attack us on the way," replied the bos'n.
"With two badly wounded men it would be hard for us."

"Yes, two men as stretcher-bearers to carry each of them, and two for
the Maxim. That leaves but seven able to bear arms."

"Do you propose to burn the village? It would serve to impress the
lesson more deeply."

"No; I think the poor fellows have suffered enough. Look upon the
case from their point of view. Suppose, for instance, a party of
<DW65>s interfered with us at home--committed sacrilege, and
otherwise trod on the corns of our feelings--wouldn't you cut up
rough? Yet Conolly, by potting their sacred water-god, or whatever
they call it, set the whole swarm of them buzzing round our heads.
It's natural, after all. But there is one thing I'll burn, however."

"And that is----?"

"The idol."

Two stout levers were placed under the base of the grinning image,
and with a hearty cheer the men bent to their work, and the ponderous
mass of painted wood trembled, swayed for a few moments, then pitched
headlong on the ground.

My father bent over it to more closely examine the painted and
befeathered object. Suddenly he gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Herbert," he called to his brother, "come here and tell us what you
think of this."

"Why," replied my uncle, "it's a figure-head."

"It is, or rather was. But it is more than that. See, the pedestal is
carved with long staves, each surmounted by a cross."

"Well?"

"A cross-surmounted pole is the symbol of St. Philip the Apostle;
consequently, unless I am much mistaken, the idol was at one time the
figurehead of the 'San Philipo.' Of course, we cannot take it with us
now; but, should an opportunity occur, I mean to have this relic on
board the 'Fortuna.' Is everything ready, Mr. Wilkins?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well; we'll try and make our way back to the ship."

A final examination showed that there were no signs of the natives in
the vicinity of the village; so, taking the two wounded men on
stretchers roughly improvised from bamboo poles and belts, we began
our retreat.

It was a nerve-racking ordeal. From the pitiless glare of the sun the
narrow path looked black and forbidding under the trees, and with the
possibility that every thicket concealed a bloodthirsty enemy, every
man was keenly on the alert. The snapping of a twig or the passage of
a bird amongst the treetops caused the men to halt, with rifle at the
ready, in anticipation of a fierce onslaught from an unseen foe;
while, to add to our difficulties, Hinks began to show symptoms of
lightheadedness, shouting and struggling so violently that he had to
be strapped to the litter, while Barnes groaned loudly at each jolt
of the stretcher.

But nothing of a hostile nature occurred, and at length, after a
tedious two hours' march, we emerged from the wood and reached the
beach; and it is doubtful whether Xenophon's Ten Thousand hailed the
sight of the sea with greater delight than we did. For there lay the
"Fortuna," riding easily to her anchor.

In obedience to a signal the two men who had been left on board
manned the whaler and pulled for the beach, and ten minutes later the
boat, heavily laden, was making its way back to the yacht.

Worn out with the effects of our terrible experience, we spent the
rest of the day in idleness. For my part, after a good lunch, I
turned in and slept till next morning, although once or twice I woke
up in a bath of perspiration, the outcome of that horrible night.

Half an hour later we were over the scene of operations, and the
divers immediately descended. It was a slow, tedious task, the
clearing away of the weed and silt over the deck of the wreck, but
before we could use a blasting charge it was necessary to thoroughly
explore the hull, in order to make sure that the wreck was not too
rotten to withstand the explosion.

Two hours elapsed, and the divers ascended, reporting good progress,
but a lot of work lay before them, the tendrils of seaweed proving
stubborn guardians of the hidden treasure; still, already they had
made a passage to within a few feet of where the main hatch should
be. After the midday meal down went the divers again for another two
hours, and to me, sitting in the whaler, the monotony was most
trying. Seeking for rich cargoes is all very well when one is taking
an active part in the search, but when it comes to sitting in an open
boat all day, literally with arms folded, and not knowing what is
taking place beneath you, the enforced idleness soon palls even on
the most sanguine spirits.

Next day came the same round of comparative idleness, save for the
divers, who laboured incessantly, and the men at the pumps.

Another trying day came, and then, just before sunset, we were
startled by hearing a terrific shouting on the beach. Bringing
glasses to bear on the spot, we found that the natives had rejected
their idol, which was indeed the figurehead of the "San Philipo," and
had dragged it down to the sea shore, believing it to belong to the
white men. However that may be, there it lay in the sand. The pater
there and then determined that he would carry it home with him. As
with the treasure of the sunken ship, he felt he had a certain
proprietary right in the "San Philipo" and all belonging to her.




Chapter XVI

TOUCH AND GO


"I DON'T like the look of it," remarked my father, lightly tapping
the barometer with his little finger. "A rapid rise, then up and down
like a see-saw, followed by a still more rapid fall."

"Twenty-eight point four five--a drop of one point five, two inches
in fifteen hours," observed Dr. Conolly. "It certainly looks as if
something is in the air, though everything appears favourable at
present."

"We'll be on the safe side and take every possible precaution,"
rejoined my father. "We are protected by the reef, so it will be as
well to remain here, rather than get to sea and meet a cyclone in the
open."

This conversation occurred about a fortnight after the arrival of the
figurehead of the "San Philipo." The figurehead, or idol, we found
too large conveniently to stow away on board, so it was cut through
just below the shoulders, and, relieved of its accumulated coats of
paint, the art of the Spanish wood-carver stood revealed once more to
the light of day.

The actual head and bust of the great figurehead we took on board,
lashing it securely in the main saloon, although even its present
bulk, being four feet in height and three feet across the widest
part, seriously interfered with the space we had at our disposal. As
for the natives, they were now quiet enough. The heavy losses they
had sustained had for the time being, at least, crushed their
spirits, and we were able, with due precautions, to land whenever we
wished.

Although on this particular morning everything seemed peaceful and
quiet, the erratic behaviour of the mercury gave us ample warning
that some great atmospheric disturbance was about to take place. Work
on the wreck was in consequence suspended, the boats were hoisted in
and secured all deck fittings lashed down, and an additional anchor
with the longest possible scope was laid out.

About eight bells (4 p.m.) a heavy swell set in from seaward,
although there was no wind to cause it, and all along the reef the
dull round waves broke into great masses of foam with a noise like
thunder, while the "Fortuna" rolled sluggishly in the undulations
within the lagoon.

The sun, surrounded by a misty halo, sank behind a cluster of
high-banked clouds, giving out strange copper- rays, while
from seaward came a constant string of birds, intent upon gaining the
shelter of the land; and all the while a strange brooding silence
appeared to have taken possession of the air, save for the roar of
the breakers on the reef and the lesser noise of the water tumbling
on the beach.

Hardly had the sun set than a heavy rain beat straight down, rattling
on the decks (for we had taken in the awnings) and making a strange
phosphorescent light on the water; but still there was no sign of
wind.


  "When the rain's before the wind,
  Halliards, sheets, and braces bind."


"I wonder if that rhyme applies to this part of the globe?" remarked
my uncle, as, clad in oilskins and sou'-westers, we stood' on deck,
glad of the opportunity of being cooled by the downpour after weeks
of tropic heat.

"We'll have it before long," said my father, looking towards the reef
and trying to pierce the inky blackness. "And, in spite of the reef,
we are on a lee shore.

"But not entirely open to the sea."

"No, but there'll be trouble if the anchors come home. By the by, did
you stow away those blasting charges carefully?"

"I had them sent ashore and buried near the cave."

"That's good. I don't like the idea of having highly charged
explosives on board in heavy electrical storms."

"Neither did I. Ha! What's that?"

Looking up, we saw a pale blue light flickering on our main-mast
head, and for the moment I thought the vessel had taken fire.

"The air is full of electricity," said my father. "St. Elmo's Fires I
think the sailors term the phenomenon. Reggie, run below out of the
way. If you turn in before I see you again, turn in all standing, for
you might be wanted on deck in a hurry."

I turned to obey, but just as I gained the companion the whole sky
seemed one blaze of bluish light pierced by vivid flashes of
lightning, which was immediately succeeded by a deafening peal of
thunder that shook the yacht like a dried leaf in an October gale.

Even as I gained the cabin a furious blast struck the ship broadside
on, and, staggering and pitching, she slewed round head to wind. The
storm had broken.

Rolling, heaving, jumping short to her tautened cables, the "Fortuna"
was fairly caught, and, down below, the sensation of being thrown
about like a cork was almost worse than taking one's chances on deck.
Reading was an utter impossibility, and all I could do was to wedge
myself into my bunk, holding on when an extra heavy lurch threatened
to hurl me across the cabin.

Just before midnight my father came below to swallow a hasty meal.
The direction of the storm was, he told me, rapidly veering, for in
these regions north of the Equator the gyration of these cyclones
invariably takes place in one direction--from right to left, against
the hands of a watch; while in the Southern Hemisphere the direction
is reversed.

"We are on a weather shore at present," he added; "but before long we
shall find ourselves on a lee shore, and the motion will be worse."

It was rather cold comfort, for already the pitching was more than I
cared about.

At sunrise the wind was blowing dead on shore, and the mountainous
breakers, sweeping over the reef, rolled with but slightly diminished
force towards the land. The "Fortuna" was naturally head to wind, and
riding in a totally opposite direction from that of the previous
night, though, thanks to a massive swivel, she was free from the
disadvantage of a "foul hawse."

To ease the strain on the cables the motor was started, and,
alternately racing and biting as the propeller was lifted clear of
the water or else submerged feet below the normal depth, the powerful
little engine added its quota of noise to the howling of the
elements.

For'ard everything was battened down, but the main companion hatch
was left slightly open to admit fresh air to the cabin, and as sea
after sea swept over our decks I could hear the ponderous blows of
the masses of solid water as they flung themselves against the stout
framework of the hatchway, on the lee side of which the watch on deck
sheltered themselves as much as possible from the fury of the storm.

Slowly the hours passed; yet, although long after sunrise, the thick
black clouds made the atmosphere so dark that it was impossible to
see much farther than the length of the yacht, while flash after
flash of lightning momentarily pierced the sombre gloom.

At the height of the storm the dreadful cry arose, "The anchors are
coming home!" And this proved only too true, for our ground tackle
was slowly dragging over the sandy bottom of the lagoon, and four
hundred yards astern was the coral beach, on which the breakers would
smash the "Fortuna" into matchwood in less than five minutes.

At the first alarm I rushed on deck, and, holding on like grim death
to a belaying pin, I remained, washed by several successive seas,
most of the crew doing likewise and grimly awaiting the end.

Suddenly there was a tremendous shock, as if the vessel had struck,
and in the glare of a vivid flash we perceived that bearing down on
us was a huge wave the like of which I had never seen before, and
want never to see again. Fifty feet in height, the steep, unbroken
mass rushed towards the "Fortuna," and, expecting her to be wrenched
from her cables and buried beneath tons of green seas, we tightened
our grip and gazed with feelings akin to panic on the approaching
wave.

Above the roar of the oncoming water I heard my father shout, "Down
below, all of you! It's our only chance!" and I was conscious of
being dragged to the shelter of the companion, down which a scurrying
stampede took place to gain a doubtful shelter.

The next instant the "Fortuna" seemed to literally stand upon end; we
were all hurled, a struggling mass of humanity, against the after
bulkhead, which to all intents and purposes became the floor. Then,
after hours, as it seemed, of sickening suspense, during which we
were in doubt as to whether the vessel still floated or was being
borne down to the bottom of the lagoon, the "Fortuna" pitched forward
till we were in danger of being thrown to the other end of the
saloon, while on deck we could hear the ominous crash of broken wood
and the sound of water pouring through the scuppers. Then, except for
a slight roll, the yacht became as steady as if at anchor in a
landlocked harbour.

With an exclamation of astonishment the bos'n dashed up the
companion, and, without waiting to slide back the hatch, eeled
himself through the narrow opening and gained the deck, the rest of
us following closely.

A scene of confusion met our eyes. The mizzen-mast, broken off close
to the deck, lay over our starboard quarter; part of the rail on the
port bow was torn away, and the gig, wrenched from its strong
lashings, was wedged against the fore side of the companion, with
several of its planks stove in. But the cause of the bos'n's
astonishment was the fact that right ahead of the "Fortuna," and less
than two hundred yards away, was an enormous ledge of rock, some
twenty to forty feet in height, stretching in front of us like a
stone wall, its extremities lost in the semi-gloom, forming a natural
breakwater.

Although the storm still raged furiously, and the showers of spray
rose beyond the rock and fell like hissing rain right over us, the
yacht lay under the lee of the newly formed barrier, fretting at her
cables, which were now rubbing under her fore-foot.

"Stop the engine and have that wreckage cleared away," said my
father. "We are safe enough for the present" and, with a sailor's
instinct, the work of making things ship-shape was first taken in
hand, before attempting to find out what act of Providence was
responsible for our marvellous escape from being dashed to pieces on
a lee shore.

The men set to work with a will. The broken mizzen-mast was cut clear
and allowed to float at the end of a strong rope at a safe distance
from our counter; the gig was secured, and things made ship-shape
between decks, where the damage, though the confusion was
indescribable, was confined to a few breakages of glass and china
ware. Barely had the work of clearing up been completed than the
storm ceased, almost as suddenly as it had begun, and the sun shone
forth in a cloudless sky. We could now form some idea of what had
occurred to turn the heaving waters of the lagoon into a sheltered
harbour. Where but a few hours before had been a low coral reef, a
long, irregular ledge of rock had been thrown up from the bed of the
sea, and although its upper surface was composed of weed-covered
stone and fragments of corals, its landward face was as fresh and
clear as if cut by a gigantic chisel, and the highest part was where
the entrance to the lagoon had been.

But the greatest surprise of all was that, wedged in an almost
upright position, the weed-covered wreck of the "San Philipo" lay
exposed to the light of day, after resting for nearly two centuries
at the bottom of the sea. In spite of the clinging masses of weed the
line of her double row of ports could be distinctly traced, while,
owing to her slight list, we could see her sloping decks, built like
a succession of broad steps rising from her waist. Her lofty stern,
with its projecting galleries, was practically intact, and the only
part that destroyed the graceful symmetry of her hull was for'ard,
where the bows, torn by a long-standing injury, terminated in a
tangle of broken planks and jagged timbers.

The crew looked with awestruck astonishment at this relic of the
deep. It was as if they had been transported back to the beginning of
the eighteenth century to see this antiquated object of naval
architecture suddenly placed before their eyes; but my father looked
upon the spectacle from a practical point of view. "It's saved us an
awkward task," he remarked.

"What has?" I inquired.

"Reggie, my boy, you have seen what few of the inhabitants of the
globe have seen before--the birth of an island. There has been a
violent volcanic disturbance, and a portion of the submarine bed has
been forced upwards, forming the mass of rock that you can see before
you. Such instances are rare, but by no means unknown. That huge wave
that all but overwhelmed the 'Fortuna' was caused by the sudden
distortion of the earth's crust, which, generally speaking, is
weakest along the western shore of the Pacific Ocean, though 'tis
evident that the island is situated immediately above a centre of
volcanic activity. It has been extremely fortunate for us, although,
had the upheaval occurred but a few yards this way, it would have
meant the death of us all."

"Do you think we shall have another shock?

"More than likely, though hardly so powerful. These seismic
disturbances often occur in series, and it may be that the island
will disappear as quickly as it came. However, we must take our
chance, explore the wreck, and remove the treasure if it is to be
found. Well, Mr. Wilkins?"

"Would you mind stepping for'ard, sir?"

The bos'n led the way to the fo'c'sle, and, looking over the bow, he
showed us the cable, to which the yacht was riding easily.

"Well, what's wrong?" asked my father.

"Can you see below the swivel, sir?"

A further examination showed that one of the cables, composed of
3/4-in. galvanized chain, had parted just below the swivel, while the
yacht now only rode to the second anchor.

"We'll send a diver after it directly the swell has gone down," said
the bos'n. "And look astern, sir; it's been touch and go."

Within a cable's length a ridge of jagged, teeth-like rocks showed in
the trough of each gentle undulation. A mass of rock had been
recently fired up from the bed of the lagoon, for previously its
floor was remarkably free from obstructions, so that, had the
remaining cable parted, the "Fortuna" would have been dashed to
pieces on this new danger, and her crew, even had they escaped from
this peril, would have been ground by the remorseless breakers
against the shore of the island.

Some idea of the violence of the cyclone could be gathered from the
fact that the huge tidal wave had swept the beach and broken against
the grove of coco-nut palms, for the trunks of the trees, some of
which had been uprooted, were covered with trailing masses of seaweed
and the remains of the islanders' canoes.

As I looked on the scene of desolation, the strewn beach and the
rocky pinnacles astern of us, and thence on the protecting masses of
our newly formed island, I realized more fully to what extent we owed
our safety to Providence, and, like the bos'n, I could express the
situation in no other words than that "it's been touch and go with
all of us."




Chapter XVII

WE FIND THE TREASURE


THERE was not much time for reflections; work, and pressing work too,
had to be done. Under the bos'n's orders a party of men set about
repairing the damaged gig and the broken rail, while on examination
it was found that the broken mizzen-mast was practically unstrained
beyond the actual fracture, so that, by cutting through and
restepping the longest portion, a serviceable though somewhat stumpy
mast would do duty until we could obtain a new spar at the nearest
port. Three men under the orders of the quartermaster went off in the
whaler to take soundings in the vicinity of the yacht's berth in
order to become acquainted with the position of any fresh shoals or
reefs; while the divers prepared to descend to try and recover the
lost anchor and cable.

"I've just seen poor old Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, as he came on
deck and joined us. "He's had a nasty time during the storm, and what
I was afraid of has come about. He shows symptoms of blood-poisoning,
and I must operate at once."

"Poor fellow! Poor fellow!" ejaculated my father. "I suppose he'll
pull through?"

"He has a fighting chance, but you can rely upon me to do my very
best. We must perform the operation on deck; so will you give orders
for the awning to be rigged, and a screen placed athwart ship. We
have plenty of fresh water, I think?"

"Yes, plenty. I'll have the awning rigged at once."

This news startled me, for when last I saw the wounded man he seemed
on the fair road to recovery. But no time was to be lost. The awning
was rigged, a rough table placed on the fo'c'sle, and a bucket of
water, an array of surgical instruments (which the doctor had bought
during our stay at Malta), and boxes of surgical dressing and linen
completed the hasty preparations.

The divers were told to divest themselves of their diving-suits, and,
after selecting three men to assist the doctor, my father ordered the
rest away in the whaler, giving them instructions to sound carefully
between the ledge of rocks and the shore, though this was merely an
excuse to clear the ship during the actual operation.

Presently Barnes was brought on deck on a rough stretcher, the task
of getting him through the fore-hatch proving one of great difficulty
to the bearers and painful to the patient. They laid him on the
table, and a nauseating smell that reminded me forcibly of old Dr.
Trenoweth's surgery at Fowey seemed to fill the air.

"Clear out of this, Reggie!" said my Uncle Herbert peremptorily. "Go
below and read a book, or do something. This is no place for you."

I went, but my thoughts were full of the poor sufferer lying on deck.
Even the saloon reeked of the sickening odour, while through the open
skylight I could hear every sound: the short, quick orders of the
doctor, the splashing of the water, the convulsive movements of the
insensible patient, the clatter of the instruments and even the
sharp, rasping noise of the saw, and finally the distressing groans
of the man as he recovered consciousness.

Then I heard the signal for the whaler, and presently the sound of
the oars splashing alongside.

"Come along, my boy," exclaimed my father; "we are going off to the
wreck." Gladly I left the cabin and got into the boat. Barnes still
remained on deck, a bed being prepared for him under a square of
canvas formed into a small tent. Dr. Conolly remained with his
patient, but my father and uncle went in the whaler.

"There's a place where we can land, just on the other side of the
wreck," said the bos'n; "but it's an awkward job."

This indeed it seemed, for the side of the newly made island was as
steep and as smooth as polished rock, save for a few crevices and
longitudinal cracks, so far apart as to be useless for climbing. A
few strokes, however, brought us to the spot indicated by the bos'n,
where the shattered bows of the "San Philipo" almost overhung the
cliff. Here a flight of natural steps led up to within fifteen feet
of the summit, but the whole of that fifteen feet was as smooth as a
sheet of glass.

"Another fifty feet and the old hooker would have tumbled over the
edge," observed the bos'n. "The whole place is one mass of ups and
downs. Do you know, sir, that between the 'Fortuna' and the little
reef astern of her--the new one, I mean--we found the bottom at a
hundred fathoms, and between the reef and the shore, where there used
to be from four to six fathoms, we found as much as sixty?"

"It's been a most tremendous upheaval," replied my father; "and I'm
not surprised at anything after this. However, the question is: How
are we to land?

"That's what I was thinking of, sir," replied Wilkins, knitting his
brow. "How would bending the whaler's anchor on to a line and heaving
it up do?"

"I am afraid that throwing up a twenty-four-pound anchor to a height
of over twenty feet would be beyond the strength of most of us,"
observed my uncle, with a smile.

"Then heave the line over the wreck."

"The lead-line would not be strong enough to bear a man," objected my
father. "The only thing to be done is to get a spar--the yard of our
square-sail, for instance."

"A couple of young trees would do better, I'm thinking," said the
bos'n. "We've plenty of lashing in the boat, and a ladder could be
knocked up in a jiffey."

"The very thing, Mr. Wilkins. Make for the shore as fast as you can."

The whaler's bow grounded on the beach, and, making our way with
difficulty through the debris that lined the seaward side of the
grove, we selected a couple of young palm-trees. These were felled
and cut to lengths of twenty feet, and the rungs firmly fastened,
making a serviceable ladder. This we towed behind the boat, and on
landing on the rock we scaled the perpendicular height with
comparative ease.

The ladder was then hauled up and placed against the towering,
weed-covered sides of the "San Philipo," and, led by my father, we
all ascended and gained the deck of the wreck.

"Be careful, sir," cautioned the bos'n; "the deck may be rotten in
places."

"All right, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father. "I see the divers have
been hard at work, for the waist has practically been cleared."

But before attempting to go below, my father made his way aft, and,
clambering cautiously over the successive breaks of the tiers of
decks, reached the towering poop. Here the stump of the mizzen-mast
still projected a couple of feet above the deck, while a litter of
rotten rope trailed across the poop from the mizzen chains, and a
rusty mass of iron alone remained to denote what had at one time been
the three poop lanterns.

It was not, however, to this scene of desolation that my father's
attention was directed. From the commanding position we had, for the
first time, a complete view of the results of the upheaval, and to
our consternation we found that the lagoon was converted into a
land-locked sheet of water, huge rocks forming a massive
semi-circular barrier from shore to shore. The "Fortuna" was a
prisoner, and, to all intents and purposes, seemed doomed to lie
within the lagoon till she rotted and sank at her moorings.

The original entrance had, as I have already mentioned, been closed
up by lofty masses of rock, while throughout the whole length of the
newly formed reef there was not, as far as we could see, any part
less than twenty feet above the level of high water.

For several minutes my father stood looking at the scene with
absolute dejection written on his face. It seemed as if all his hopes
were shattered at one blow.

"Cheer up, old fellow," said his brother sympathetically, though he,
too, was keenly alive to the extent of our misfortune. "It might be
worse; we've got the yacht intact, the treasure under our feet, and,
what is more, our lives have been miraculously preserved."

"Our lives, 'tis true. But what is the use of the treasure when the
yacht is hopelessly imprisoned?"

"There's a saying, 'Don't holler till you're out of the wood'; it
could have very well been added: 'Don't cry till you've tried to find
a way out'; so don't worry till we've made a careful exploration of
the reef. I suppose people at home have read a report in the daily
papers before now, a telegram from Professor Milne to the effect
that a great seismic disturbance has been recorded, the probable area
affected being approximately eleven thousand miles away."

"Oh, yes," replied my father, with a slight suspicion of sarcasm.
"Imagine the interest it causes to the majority of the British
Public; but, so long as his pocket isn't touched, the average man
doesn't care, even if half the surface of the globe is turned upside
down; but let a cat or a dog scratch up his front garden----"

"Oh, for pity's sake stop moralizing. Let's make a start and explore
the ship. See, the men have already nearly cleared away the mud from
the main hatch."

Before long my father had shaken off his depression and was hard at
work clearing the weed and sand. The hatches were forced open with
crowbars, and we had our first view of the main deck. Considering the
time the vessel had lain at the bottom of the sea, the amount of dirt
and sand that had worked its way between decks was remarkably small;
but on descending the ladder it seemed as if we were in a broad,
low-roofed cave.

Through the gun-ports, now festooned with seaweed, the sunlight
filtered, causing a thick, nauseating mist to rise from the sodden
timbers; while on the starboard side was a tangled collection of
timber and iron, the remains of the ship's ordnance, all the iron
guns having been reduced to a softness resembling plumbago; but eight
pieces of brass ordnance still retained their original appearance,
save for the discoloration caused by the action of the salt water.

"Let's see what there is in the cabins aft," said Uncle Herbert,
making for a half-open door; "I suppose no one brought a
lantern?--it's pitch dark."

Even as he spoke the door creaked and moved slowly inwards, while a
strange rustling noise was heard in the alley-way. Jumping backwards,
my uncle raised an axe that he was carrying, and assumed a defensive
attitude, while the rest of us, in breathless expectancy, awaited
developments.

Again the shuffling noise was repeated, and out of the darkness
projected a long, greenish hued, repulsive-looking object,
terminating in a pair of formidable nippers, and in another moment a
gigantic crab, fully five feet across its shell, shambled out of the
gloom, turned partly over on its side to pass the doorway, and made
straight for us.

"Call yourself a Cornishman, and afraid of a crab!" exclaimed my
father as my uncle turned and ran for safety.

But it was not a cause for jest. One of the men stabbed at the
creature with a crowbar, but, seizing the iron between its formidable
claws, the monster wrenched it from the man's grasp, nearly throwing
him to the deck. Another struck a heavy blow with an axe, but the
steel seemed to have no effect upon the tough armour of the brute's
shell, and it was clear that a man would stand little chance if
caught by those powerful nippers.

"Hack off his legs!" shouted the bos'n, and, snatching an axe from
one of the seamen, he put all his strength into a powerful cut at the
creature's leg. The steel bit deeply into the member, but, before the
bos'n could withdraw the axe, the crab spun round, swept the bos'n
off his feet, and made for its prostrate antagonist, who, wedged
against the ship's side, had no chance of escape. But before the
hideous brute could accomplish its object, Lord, the quartermaster,
made a bound, and alighted on its shell, and with his axe dealt two
smashing blows at the creature's eyes. This interference caused the
crab to swerve from its purpose, and, raising itself, threw the
quartermaster to keep company with the bos'n.

Taking advantage of the raised position of the brute, my father fired
three shots in quick succession from his revolver straight into its
head, and, having had more than it cared about, the crab retreated
for its den, but, before it reached the doorway, it stopped, gave a
few convulsive struggles, and fell dead, a thin stream of
pale- blood trickling over the slimy decks into the debris on
the lee side.

"Hot work while it lasted," remarked my father, ejecting the three
empty cylinders and reloading his revolver. "Move the thing out of
the way, and let's explore the cabins. I hope there are no more of
that sort, though."

One of the men had returned with a lantern from the whaler, and by
its aid we began our tour of the cabins and state-rooms. There were
multitudes of crabs, large and small, though none approaching in size
the one we had killed; several small cuttlefish squirmed in the mud
that was ankle-deep on the floors; while overhead the mouldering
beams were alive with immense worms, gliding in and out of the
innumerable tunnels they had eaten in the timbers.

Most of the cabin doors were locked, but so rotten was the woodwork
that a kick was sufficient to demolish them. The first five or six
were practically empty, though one contained a number of brass-hilted
swords, all in a more or less rust-eaten condition. At length we came
to one over which were the letters "...apitan."

"This ought to contain something worth having, being the captain's,"
remarked my uncle, bursting open the door. Compared with the rest of
the cabins this apartment was large and well-lighted, the stern
window being fairly free from the trailing weeds.

Rotting curtains still hung from the walls; furniture that for nearly
two centuries had floated against the once-gilded ceiling had fallen
in utter confusion on the mud-covered floor, while there was the
usual scurrying of swarms of shell-fish, as they sought shelter in
the darker recesses of the room. In the centre stood two massive
chests, bound with iron, and to these my father hastened, ignoring
the crabs that impeded his footsteps.

"Hurry up with the crowbar!" he exclaimed excitedly, and, inserting
the iron bar underneath the lid, he put his whole strength into the
task of prizing open one of the chests.

With all his powerful efforts the lid defied him, and, calling the
bos'n to his aid, both of them bent to the stout lever. The wood
creaked and groaned, yet neither did the chest move nor did the lid
fly open.

"There's weight in it!" exclaimed the bos'n, wiping his heated brow.
"If we are not careful the whole box of tricks will fall through into
the hold."

"Yes, we must look out for that," replied my father; "already the
floor seems to be giving."

"More than the lid does, I'm thinking," assented the bos'n. "We must
try what a sledge-hammer and wedges will do." This meant sending back
to the "Fortuna"; so, while the whaler was away, we continued our
exploration of the cabin. There were three silver images, blackened
by sea-water, several gold and silver-mounted sword-hilts, a drawer
full of gold coins, bearing dates between 1590 and 1701, tankards and
plates of precious metal, and several securely sealed bottles,
containing, as we afterwards found, wine.

"Ah! now we can tackle the chests," exclaimed Uncle Herbert, as the
men returned with a sledge-hammer and a regular armoury of cold
chisels. "This one first."

A few heavy blows and the lid flew open; then, by the aid of the
crowbar, the work was completed, and the lid went back with a loud
creaking sound. The chest was filled to the brim with small bars of
solid gold.

"Hurrah, my lads!" shouted my father in his excitement. "This alone
will repay us. You can take it from me that once we get this safely
home, every man of the crew will be able to live in comfort till the
end of his days."

A rousing cheer greeted this announcement; then, closing the lid, my
father directed the men to burst open the other chest.

This we found to contain mostly silk-stuffs, all, of course, utterly
spoiled by age and sea-water; but at the bottom was a complete set of
Church plate, made of gold and blazing with precious stones.

"Some cathedral in Spain is the poorer by this," remarked Uncle
Herbert, holding up a massive chalice to the glassless stern window
and allowing the light to play on the dazzling stones. "What do you
propose to do, Howard? I don't think we can rest at ease till the
whole of this stuff is safely aboard the 'Fortuna.'"

"Neither can we. We'll explore the hold now, and directly afterwards
we'll begin to tranship the contents of the chests."

"We must lose no time, then, for it will take the rest of the day."

A hasty examination of the hold showed us that the silver cargo of
the "San Philipo" was no myth; the ballast was composed of solid
silver "pigs."

"We'll return to the 'Fortuna' now," decided my father. "You,
Herbert, had better superintend the shifting of the contents of the
chests. Tomorrow, if all's well, we'll tackle the silver, and, if the
gig's repaired, four men and the bos'n can explore the reef."




Chapter XVIII

COMMITTED TO THE DEEP


"I'M afraid it's a case with poor Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, in a low
tone, as the whaler came alongside the yacht and my father climbed
over the side. "He's taken a turn for the worse, and I don't think
he'll last till tomorrow.

"Poor fellow! Is there no hope?"

The doctor shook his head. "I was doubtful from the first. The spear
was a poisoned one; though the poison was undoubtedly stale, and
therefore slow in action, it was none the less sure."

"Can he be seen?"

"Yes, he's quite conscious."

I followed my father to the shelter-tent, under which the wounded
seaman lay.

"Well, Barnes, how goes it--better?" he asked, with a forced
cheerfulness.

"No, sir, though 'tain't no good making a fuss about it. My number's
up."

"Nonsense, man! you'll soon be all right again, I hope."

"All right aloft, sir, please God. I'm real glad you've come to see
me, Cap'n, for there'll be one or two little things I want squared
up."

"I'll do anything I can."

"Well, sir, there's my medal for South Africa, with three clasps:
would you mind accepting it as a kind o' keepsake from me? An'
there's the good-conduct medal, too. That ain't of much account
compared with t'other, but p'r'aps Mister Reginald would 'ave it."

"Thank you, Barnes; but have you no friends to give them to?"

"Never a relation in the world, sir. There's my pension papers in my
ditty-box; it's a matter of three quarters due to me. Will you see
that my chum, Joe Dirham, draws it? I've signed a paper about it."

"All right; I'll see to that."

"An' my identity-paper. It'll fetch a shilling at the 'Register's' at
the first home-port we touch. Joe might just as well 'ave that;
'tain't no good throwin' good money away, and, besides, it will make
all square and above-board up at the Admiralty."

"Do you feel much pain?"

"Precious little, Cap'n. As I said afore, it's no good makin' a fuss
over it; a seaman with one leg ain't of no use to you, but"--here his
voice trembled a little--"promise me, sir, that you'll bury me at
sea, an' not on the island; it'll be a snug moorin' for me at the
bottom of the lagoon. Now, Cap'n, read somethin' out of the Book, an'
say a prayer for me--I, never wasn't much in that line myself."

Somehow I felt unable to remain longer, so, shaking the seaman's thin
hand, I went aft, leaving my father with him.

The news of the state of poor Barnes cast a gloom over the ship, and
any feeling of enthusiasm over the discovery of the treasure was
smothered by the melancholy reflection that one of our comrades was
on his deathbed.

Next morning I was awakened by the sound of voices on deck. The sun
had risen in a thick haze, and, though not a zephyr disturbed the
surface of the lagoon, the air was cool and pleasant. Wondering what
the sounds meant, and whether poor Barnes had gone, I slipped on my
clothes and went on deck.

Clustered round the tent were most of the crew, listening to the
voice within, or whispering to each other in subdued tones. I went
forward, and found my father, Dr. Conolly, and the bos'n standing by
the side of the temporary bunk on which poor Barnes lay. The dying
seaman was fighting his battles o'er again, shouting and talking in
clear yet hurried tones. Now he was in the sweltering heat of a West
African backwater, advancing with his shipmates to storm the stockade
of a rebel chieftain; next he was serving a 4.7 gun with the Naval
Brigade, his feeble hands clutching in grim pretence at the
handspikes as the huge weapon on its unwieldy carriage was trained on
the advancing Boers. Other episodes followed in quick succession,
till the scene in the stockade where he received his fatal wound'
seemed to exhaust his last flickering strength.

"Can't you see it's getting quite dark?" he exclaimed feebly. "What's
wrong with the bos'n's mate? Why, hain't he piped the lamp-trimmers?
...Ah! that's better; the anchor-lamp's burnin' now, so we're brought
up at last.... Turn it up a little, lads... That's it... Burning
brightly now..."

The words died away in a long-drawn sigh. The doctor bent over the
now motionless form' and placed a finger lightly on one eye. Then he
shook his head. "Cover him over, poor fellow; he's made his last
voyage and reached the port aloft."

* * * * *

Two hours later, the whaler pushed off from the side of the
"Fortuna," with almost every man on board, and a still, shrouded
form, covered with a Union Jack, lying on a board athwartships, the
grand and solemn words of the Burial Service for use at sea mingling
with the soft splash of the oars as the men, keeping slow time,
pulled the boat towards the deepest part of the lagoon.

"... Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall
from Thee."

"Way enough; toss oars," ordered the bos'n in a low tone.

The men raised their oars to a vertical position, as a last tribute
to their shipmate, and the boat gradually began to lose way.

"... We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into
corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea
shall give up its dead...."

The bos'n gave the signal, and the board was tilted up, and with a
slight splash, the shrouded form slid into the water, leaving the
Union Jack fluttering in the boat. Instinctively I looked over the
side, and followed the course of the weighted canvas that enclosed
the mortal remains of poor Barnes, till the grey shroud turned a
greenish tinge, and at length was lost in the depth of the lagoon.
With heavy hearts we rowed back to the yacht.

* * * * *

Needless to say there was no work done on the wreck for the rest of
that day, but, to banish the feeling of depression, all hands were
kept busily employed, some on the repairs to the gig, others making
and repairing canvas gear, while the two divers made a successful
descent and recovered the lost anchor and cable. On coming up they
reported that the anchor was actually balanced on the edge of a deep
chasm, it being only by the merest chance that the ground tackle had
not been irrecoverably lost. So delicate, in fact, was the position
of the anchor, that the divers hesitated to approach it for fear that
it might make a sudden descent and carry them with it over the abyss.

Just before sunset a strong party went ashore to refill the
barricoes. The doctor and I went with them, but no amount of
persuasion could induce Yadillah to set foot upon the island again,
and during our stay he kept firmly to his resolution. We noticed a
curious fact in connection with the journey ashore. The water was
tinged in colour, and had a strong, sulphurous smell, so that we
argued there must have been a volcanic outlet somewhere in the
neighbourhood, or, failing that, there was a tremendous natural
agency still bottled up beneath the island, that before long must
seek to escape by another violent upheaval.

* * * * *

Soon after daybreak on the following day the working-parties set out
on their varied tasks, for, on account of the heat between the
sea-soddened timbers of the wreck, it was decided to suspend work
during the hottest part of the day.

The whaler's crew, under the orders of my uncle, devoted themselves
to the unloading and transporting of the iron pigs from the hold of
the "Fortuna," intending to replace them with bars of solid silver
from the "San Philipo"; while a party of men, under my father and the
bos'n, went away in the now serviceable gig to survey the reef.

I chose to go with the gig, which was certainly a more pleasant
amusement than working inside a steaming wreck, for even at that
early hour a thick vapour enveloped the "San Philipo."

For some distance the two boats kept company, the lighter boat towing
a pair of sheers which were to be set up on the cliff to enable the
pigs to be handled the more easily, while the whaler, in addition to
being heavily laden with ballast from the yacht, carried a second
pair of sheers to set up over the main hatchway of the wreck.

Opposite the landing-place on the reef we cast off our share of the
gear and rowed slowly by the ledge of rocks, my father keeping a
sharp eye on the formation of the reef to see if any of the gaping
crevices actually led to the open sea beyond.

For nearly a mile and a half the rock rose sheer from the water's
edge, and although the boat was backed into several winding gaps in
the reef, in every case the attempt to find a channel proved
fruitless. As we approached the spot where the reef joined the
island, the rocks became lower, but the depth of water was so little,
and the shoal extended so far from the reef, that it would have been
impossible to bring the yacht up to the reef, even if a channel
existed.

"Try the other end of the lagoon, sir," advised the bos'n. "We've let
that part alone up to the present."

"There's no harm in trying, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father, "though,
if I remember rightly, the original coral reef was very irregular at
that part, and stretched seawards for a considerable distance."

When, after an hour's steady pulling, we arrived at the other end of
the reef, we found that the rock was very similar to the rest, being
pierced by many deep channels that, as usual, terminated in what the
bos'n termed "blind alleys."

Three of these were explored without success, but the fourth, some
twenty feet in width in its narrowest part, ran in a straight
direction for nearly a hundred yards, the walls on either side
gradually diminishing in height from twenty-five to less than ten
feet. Its end terminated in a mass of broken stone, deposited as if
by human agency, in a diagonal direction, affording great facilities
for climbing.

"It strikes me, sir," remarked Mr. Wilkins, "that the sea is only a
few feet beyond the rock. Listen! you can hear the waves bleating
against the seaward side."

It certainly struck the bos'n, but in a totally different manner from
that which he implied, for, without warning, a terrific blast of
air, followed by a column of water, was forced through an orifice in
the rock, Mr. Wilkins, who was standing upon one of the thwarts in
order to make a more complete survey, being in the direct line of
fire, received the full force of the discharge, and was knocked
completely over the side of the boat, while the rest of us were
drenched to the skin.

The unfortunate bos'n was quickly hauled on board, little the worse
for his ducking, and the gig was backed off beyond the danger zone.

"Experience does it!" gasped the bos'n, spitting out a mouthful of
water; "which is, I am told, the Latin for 'Experience makes fools
wise.' Am I not right, Mr. Reginald?"

"Well, what has experience taught you?" asked my father, laughing.

"Only what I thought was the case before," replied the bos'n. "And
that is, that there's a communication through this rock between the
lagoon and the open sea."

"I don't see how that can help us," remarked my father.

"May be, may be not, sir," observed Mr. Wilkins oracularly. "But if
you don't mind, sir, will you land here for a few minutes. We can
manage it quite easily by the broken rocks at the side of the
blowing-hole."

We gained the summit of the reef without much difficulty. Here, as
the bos'n had expressed his opinion, a ledge, barely six feet in
width, separated us from the open sea, while on either hand, at a
distance of less than a hundred yards, a long reef ran at right
angles to the main ledge, terminating in jagged points of disrupted
coral nearly half a mile from where we stood.

By the deep-blue colour of the water it was evident that there was
plenty of depth between these two natural groynes, which formed ample
protection from the heavy rollers that at every other point along the
reef broke with a ceaseless roar.

"You've got your revolver with you, I see, sir," said the bos'n. "I'm
going to dive off and see what the rock looks like on the seaward
side. There may be sharks about and there may not; but keep a bright
look-out, and fire at one if it comes for me. Money," he added to the
bowman of the gig, "unreeve the painter and sling it ashore, will
you."

"There, sir," he continued, "I'll take a turn round the rock, and
drop the free end of the rope in the water so that I can pull myself
up; but keep a bright look-out, if you please."

Hastily divesting himself of his sodden garments, and placing them to
dry on the hot stones, the bos'n took a magnificent "header," and
cleft the water with hardly a splash. Quite two fathoms down he went
before he turned and swam towards the rocky wall, keeping below the
water at the same depth. Half a minute later he reappeared, and,
shaking the water from his hair, he grasped the rope and came up hand
over hand.

"That's all right, sir. Deep water both sides, and the rock full of
holes."

"What do you mean?" asked my father, unable to grasp the meaning of
the bos'n's words.

"Why, sir, the 'Fortuna' can float easily on either side of this
little neck of rock."

"On one side, I'll grant."

"Aye, on both sides, once we make a way through."

"Oh, how do you propose to do it'? Remove each piece of rock bit by
bit, when the weight of the smallest is two tons at the very
least--eh?"

"No, sir," replied the bos'n.

"Then how are you going to set about it?"

"Blast it," said Mr. Wilkins emphatically.




Chapter XIX

THE CAVE


THE bos'n's proposal was hailed with enthusiasm, for, curiously
enough, neither my father nor my uncle had given any thought to the
blasting powder the use of which is an everyday occurrence in the
mining districts of Cornwall.

"How much of the stuff have we?" asked my father.

"Mr. Herbert had over fifty pounds of it carried ashore before the
gale," replied the bos'n. "It's all in air-tight cases, so it won't
be damaged by being buried."

"It's a wonder the whole lot hadn't exploded during the storm!
There's enough rock brought down from the cliff to show that the
shock was exceptionally severe, to say nothing of the chance of it
being struck by lightning."

"But it hasn't, sir, so that is something to be thankful for.
However, it would be well to finish unloading the ballast from the
yacht, but not to take the silver aboard till we have blown up the
rock and made a clear passage through."

"For what reason, Mr. Wilkins?"

"Simply because we don't know what depth the new cutting will be. It
might be twelve feet, it might be only six; so the lighter we can
make the vessel the less draught she'll draw, and the greater chance
she'll have of slipping through."

"But there will be greater difficulty in loading up outside the
reef."

"Granted, sir; but we must take the risk, unless, of course, the
blasting-powder cuts a deep and unobstructed channel."

So, directly we returned to the "Fortuna," message was sent to the
wreck to defer the removal of the pigs of silver for the present.

On my uncle's return he reported that the twenty sows were correct in
number, but only ten chests full of pieces-of-eight were to be found,
so it was assumed that the remaining five chests had been broken open
and their contents shared out by Humphrey Trevena immediately after
the capture of the "San Philipo" by the "Anne."

Nearly five tons of ballast had been removed from the "Fortuna," more
than sufficient to compensate for the additional weight of the
specie; but, in view of the probable difficulty of taking the yacht
between the reefs to the open sea, it was decided to proceed with the
unloading of the iron ballast, till the "Fortuna's" draught would be
reduced to the least margin of safety.

"We've done very well this forenoon," remarked my father, "so we can
reasonably take a spell off till the sun is low down."

"As you like, but, personally speaking, I have a perfect craving for
hard work," replied Uncle Herbert, "so I'll beat up volunteers and
recover the blasting powder."

"You won't bring it aboard?"

"No, I will take it off to the reef, close to the channel you
mentioned."

"I'll go, too," I exclaimed, "for I want very much to have a look at
the great cave that we can see from here."

"I don't think so," objected my uncle. "A boatload of explosives,
powerful enough to blow, us to infinitesimal particles, is hardly a
safe cargo, so you will be safer on board the 'Fortuna.'"

"I know, but you can take the stuff off to the reef and come back for
me. It's only a ten minutes' pull, you know. Don't be hard on a
fellow, uncle. It's the first time I've had a chance to go ashore in
that part of the bay, and I want to explore the cave."

"Very well, then," replied my uncle ungraciously. "But mind, no
monkey-tricks, and don't run into mischief."

I ran below to the bos'n's locker, where I abstracted a ball of
seaming-twine and a couple of candles, and, putting these articles
into my coat pocket in company with a box of matches, I went on deck
and clambered into the gig.

The spot where the explosives had been buried was in a grove, a short
distance from a little bay, which was enclosed on either hand by tall
cliffs, and inaccessible from the rest of the lagoon except by means
of a boat, unless a path was cut inland through the dense scrub,
which apparently had never yet been penetrated by human beings.

The taller of the two cliffs was almost divided from base to summit
by the curiously shaped cave which Old Humphrey had laid particular
stress upon in his log, and directly the boat touched the sandy beach
I bounded off towards it on my trip of exploration, a final warning
from my uncle falling lightly upon my ears.

A heap of loose boulders, which had fallen during the shock,
encumbered the mouth of the cave; but these I easily surmounted, and
advanced cautiously over the smooth floor, my eyes dim by the sudden
change from the brilliant sunshine to the subdued light of the
cavern.

The walls were composed of blocks of basalt, the general regularity
of the vertical shafts broken here and there by gaping horizontal and
diagonal fissures, while at intervals a thin stream of water fell
from the roof with a cool and pleasing sound.

As I proceeded the roof gradually became lower, till, just as the
daylight failed, its height was less than twenty feet. Taking the
ball of twine out of my pocket, I made fast one end to a projecting
ledge. The candles, I found, had united into a soft bent stick of wax
by reason of the heat of the sun, but, straightening them out and
cooling them in a pool of water, I had a double-wicked torch in place
of the two candles.

As I went on, making a careful survey of the ground for fear of
pitfalls, I noticed that on either hand numerous side passages
branched out, some large, some small; but, keeping as straight a
direction as I could, I advanced slowly, paying out the twine as I
went.

At length the smooth floor gave place to a ridge of rock, about four
feet in height, leaving an opening of barely three feet between it
and the roof. Here I stopped, debating with myself whether it would
be wiser to retrace my way, but a feeling of uncontrollable curiosity
urged me to continue my investigations.

Having unrolled a length of twine, I threw the ball over the barrier.
Having one hand free, I began to clamber over the ridge, holding the
lighted candle carefully in my left hand. Beyond I could see that the
floor was even, though higher than on the side which I had left, so I
unhesitatingly slipped down the opposite <DW72> of the rock and gained
the interior of the inner cave.

The light flickered on innumerable stalactites, which glittered like
pinnacles and pendants of dazzling gems, while, for the first time, I
became aware of the dismal silence and tomb-like solitude of the
cave. I tried to whistle, but no sound came from my parched lips;
then I called in a low tone, and to my surprise the echoes surpassed
my voice in the volume of sound and then gradually died away, till it
seemed as if, from the remote recesses of the cavern, came a mocking
laugh.

I repeated the call, and again yet louder, when suddenly there was a
rush and a roar, and I found myself lying on my back in utter
darkness.

For some considerable time I lay helpless, the utter blackness and
the terrifying solitude almost depriving me of my senses. Something
heavy was gripping my left foot, and I found that I was held by a
mass of fallen stone. The candle had been thrown from my hand, and
was extinguished by the fall; but with feverish haste I drew the box
of matches from my pocket and struck a light. Close at hand was the
candle, and by its renewed light I saw, to my horror, that a fall had
occurred from the roof, and my retreat was cut off by a tightly
wedged mass of stone.

By a supreme effort I wrenched my foot free and staggered upright,
stifling a desire to shout for fear that a further fall might occur.
Hastily I tried to find a communication through the barrier, but
there was no hope in that direction. Even the twine was held as
firmly, as if tied to a post, and, on attempting to pull it, the
thread broke off close to the rock.

I broke into a cold sweat, but after a few minutes I recovered my
senses to a certain extent, arguing with myself that I should be
missed before long, and that plenty of willing hands could remove
that mass of rubble which held me prisoner.

The light, however, gave me grave misgivings, for the double-wicked
candle was burning away rapidly, so, by the aid of my knife, I split
the wax cylinder lengthways, thus giving me two candles, as I had
originally. One I blew out and put in my pocket, with the feeling of
satisfaction of having a light for six hours at the least.

Slowly the time passed. Surely, I thought, my uncle must have taken
the explosives to the reef long before now; why had he not come to
look for me? Fearful thoughts flashed through my bewildered brain.
Supposing the blasting powder had exploded, blowing my uncle and the
boat's crew to atoms. My father would naturally conclude that I had
shared their fate, and I would be left to perish miserably in the
awful darkness of this lonely cavern. Probably it was the detonation
of the explosion and not the vibration of the sound of my voice that
had dislodged the roof of the cave.

At length, after hours, as it seemed, of weary waiting, I heard a
dull rumble in the direction of the mouth of the cavern, and
gradually the sound came nearer and nearer.

"Can't go no 'igher, sir," came a faint voice. "The string stops
'ere, an' the whole place is broken up."

"Reggie! Reggie! Are you there?"

"I'm here, uncle. Don't shout, or you will bring some more rock on
your head. I'm shut up and can't get out."

"Are you hurt?

"No."

"Wait a little longer and we'll fetch more help. We can't shift these
stones alone."

"Stay with me, uncle!" I cried despairingly. "It's so horrible alone
in this place."

"I'll stop here," replied my uncle reassuringly, and I heard the
footsteps of the men as they went off to procure help.

"Have you a light?" asked my uncle.

"Yes--have you?"

"No--we had only one box of matches between us; but never mind, it's
only a question of an hour or so."

"How long have I been here?"

"Less than an hour."

Less than an hour! It seemed six times that length of time. However,
I had a kind of empty satisfaction in knowing that Uncle Herbert was
in the darkness, while I, although penned in, had the benefit of a
feeble light.

Notwithstanding that my uncle kept up a desultory conversation, the
time passed very slowly; but before the rescue party returned I
learnt that the explosives had been safely transported to the reef,
and that, on my failing to return, the boat's crew had explored the
cave, finding the clue of seaming-twine and following it till it
disappeared between the debris. I then told him of my adventure,
relating the cause of the roof caving-in, and cautioning him to
prevent the others making too much noise.

At length the rescuers arrived, and, without delay, they attacked the
rocks with crowbars, trying to dislodge and remove the huge boulders.
For a long time they worked incessantly and energetically, but
finally they desisted, and I could hear a consultation taking place,
though the words were inaudible.

"I've sent for some blasting powder, Reggie," said my father. "The
rocks are too large and too tightly wedged together to shift
otherwise."

"Won't the explosion bring down more of the roof?" I cried out in my
anxiety.

"We must take the chance. Wait a little longer and I'll tell you what
to do."

There was a lull in the conversation, and I heard a dull, grinding
sound, as if some steel instrument was being bored into the rock.
Then, after a considerable time, my father spoke again.

"How far does the cave extend?"

"A long way, with passages on each side."

"Very well. Go about a hundred yards from this heap of rock and hide
in one of the side-tunnels. Take your coat off, and place it over
your head to deaden the sound. I am going to set fire to the fuse,
and the explosion will take place in five minutes."

I immediately set off to a place of safety, and walking as rapidly as
I could by the dim light of the candle, the floor, fortunately, being
even, I counted a hundred and twenty paces; then, turning abruptly to
the right, I set the candle on the ground, wrapped my head in my
coat, and waited.

Presently came the short sharp crack of the explosion and a dull
rumble of falling stones. A sudden rush of air, an appalling echo,
and the noise of a shower of rock falling from the roof, instantly
followed the detonation, and an acrid smell filled the cave.

Tearing away my coat from my head, I found that the air current had
extinguished the candle, and with considerable haste I struck a
match. Stones still fell at intervals from the roof, but my range of
vision was limited by the feeble glimmer of the light and the thick
haze of the smoke and dust caused by the explosion.

Then I heard the sound of returning footsteps, and my name was
called. Hastening back to the barrier that held me captive, I saw a
shaft of light from the men's lanterns glancing through a narrow hole
close to the roof. The aperture was less than eighteen inches in
height and slightly more in width, while its upper portion was
overhung by a sharp wedge-shaped piece of rock, that reminded me
forcibly of the knife of a guillotine.

"Tell him to hurry up, sir," I heard the bos'n exclaim anxiously. "A
fall may take place at any moment."

"Reggie," exclaimed my father, "climb up and squeeze through that
hole."

"But I can't, father!" I replied, regarding the opening with dismay.

"You must!" he repeated sternly--even harshly, it seemed. "Get up,
instantly!"

Carefully I negotiated the ascent of a bank of shattered rock, till I
was on a level with the hole, and, looking through, I could see the
heads and shoulders of the rescue party on the other side of the
barrier. But the sight of that fearful-looking piece of jagged rock
overhanging the way to safety caused my courage to ebb, for in my
imagination I saw it slowly, yet surely, descending to crush the life
out of my body.

"Now, then, hurry up!" repeated my father, in a voice that was
sterner than before.

With a despairing effort I tried to creep through the aperture, but,
being unable to use my arms or legs, the attempt was useless.

"Look here, Mr. Reginald," exclaimed the bos'n, "we are going to
pass a rope through to you. Put both your feet in the bowline, grip
the rope like grim death with your right hand as high above your head
as you can reach, and keep your left down close to your side. Give
the word when you are ready, and we'll haul you through in a jiffy."

The rope was thrust through the hole by means of a long pole, and I
did as I was directed, although, I am afraid, I gave the word to haul
away in a very undecided tone. A steady strain on the rope, and I
began to slide towards the narrow path that led to safety. Grazed by
the sharp edges of the jagged rock, my knuckles, hips, and knees
bleeding, and my feet jammed together by the strain on the bow-line,
I felt that the perilous journey would never end.

With wide-open eyes I stared blankly at the rock above me, at one
time less than six inches from my face. The confinement of the narrow
passage produced a feeling of suffocation, and with it the impression
that the walls of the tunnel were contracting; but at length willing
hands seized my outstretched arm, then my shoulders, and I was free.

"Back, all of you!" shouted the bos'n, and in the rush for safety I
was boldly carried off by one of the sailors. There was another
rumbling sound, and the place through which I had just emerged was
choked by a still greater fall of rock. I--nay, the whole party--had
escaped by the very skin of our teeth.

No time was lost in gaining the open air. It was night, but by the
glimmer of the lanterns I saw that my father's eyes were filled with
tears as he kissed me--even in front of all the men.

As we were rowed back to the "Fortuna," and I sat in the stern-sheets
with my father and uncle, I whispered, "What made you speak so
crossly to me, pater?"

"Necessity, my boy--stern necessity. Had I not compelled you to do
what I told you, your hesitation would doubtless have proved fatal,
though, believe me, Reggie, you will never be able to realize your
father's agony of mind when he spoke thus."




Chapter XX

A GREAT CATASTROPHE


THE next few days were spent in making final preparations for the
"Fortuna's" passage to the open sea. By the removal of her ballast,
and partial emptying of the water-tanks, her draught was reduced to 8
feet 6 inches.

Fenders and some stout trunks of palm-trees were lashed alongside and
underneath her bilges to prevent damage in the event of the yacht
touching bottom, and hawsers were prepared to warp her through the
narrow opening in the reef.

Meanwhile a party of men under Uncle Herbert's directions had bored
and prepared a chamber in the rock to receive nearly the whole of the
remaining blasting powder, a small quantity being retained to form a
"necklace"--to use the professional term--to assist in the complete
dismemberment of the rock.

The work of placing the charge into the receptacle was performed by
my uncle, as he preferred to take the risk alone. At dead low water
springs the lagoon still remaining tidal, he took the gig, with its
dangerous freight, and rowed close to the low cliff that formed the
barrier between the lagoon and the open sea. Working quickly, yet
cautiously, he transferred the blasting powder to the chamber, and
placed a double necklace in two parallel lines in grooves over the
tongue of rock. The charge was to be fired by means of a time fuse,
the length of the period between the lighting of the fuse and the
explosion being timed at twenty minutes. A quarter of a mile off lay
the whaler, well equipped with sounding lines and rods to take the
depths of the newly formed channel, and the crew anxiously awaited
the appearance of the gig.

Three hours after low water the fuse was lit, and my uncle rowed back
to the whaler. All eyes were fixed on the spot where the explosion
was to take place, and every one who possessed a watch consulted it
with feverish attention.

The twenty minutes passed, yet no explosion occurred. Five more
minutes, and still no result. We began to get anxious, and my father
and his brother exchanged grave looks. At the expiration of half an
hour they came to the conclusion that the fuse, by some means or the
other, had been extinguished, and Uncle Herbert proposed to row back
and find out the cause.

"No, no," replied my father. "Give it an hour at the very least," and
reluctantly my uncle agreed to defer his visit to the scene of his
failure.

Directly the hour was up he rowed towards the little channel, taking
two more fuses with him, but hardly had he completed half the
distance when a column of smoke and dust rose into the air, followed
by a deep roar. Masses of rock flew in all directions, some falling
close to the gig.

"Give way, lads!" shouted the bos'n excitedly, and, bending to their
oars with a will, the men urged the whaler through the water at a
great pace, the heavy boat overtaking the gig before Uncle Herbert
had reached the opening of the little creek, much to his chagrin.

At the head of this creek, where formerly the tongue of hard rock had
been, a channel twenty feet in width communicated with the sea, and
already the flood tide was swirling through. With a loud cheer, the
men pulled towards the gap.

"Easy now," said the bos'n; "there might still be shallow water"; and
with the blades of the oars almost touching the walls of rock on
either side, the whaler breasted the tide and gained the deep water
beyond.

Here we anchored, and, paying out a long grass warp, the boat was
allowed to drift back into the channel, where, by careful soundings,
a depth of not less than one fathom was found throughout its entire
length. The action of the explosive had not only blown away the rock,
but had excavated a trench with an almost even bottom.

"Two hours more to slack water," said the bos'n, consulting his
watch. "We shan't get her out this tide, sir. Do you propose to try
tonight?"

"No, I prefer to see what we are up to, unless it is absolutely
necessary. How long will it be before the springs begin to slacken,
do you think?"

"Two days at the most, sir."

"Very well; we'll make an attempt to-morrow."

Shortly after low water on the following day, the "Fortuna" weighed
anchor, and with a man at the masthead to look out for shoals, and
the motor softly humming, she forged slowly ahead through the calm
waters of the lagoon, rolling sluggishly with the lessened draught.

On approaching the gully, two warps were laid out from the bows, one
on either side, and held ashore by a party of men, and, the motor
having stopped running, the yacht was slowly and carefully warped
into the natural channel. Directly she was safely inside, two more
warps were led from her quarters, so that those on shore had her in
perfect control, only the bos'n and four seamen remaining on board.

At a snail's pace the "Fortuna" was headed for the cut that had
recently been blasted, and here the yacht was made fast to await high
water.

The flood now made slowly through the cutting, but, held securely by
the warps, the "Fortuna" breasted the current without yawing in the
eddies that swirled on either side, while my father, giving frequent
glances to a rough tide-gauge, awaited the critical moment in which
to make the attempt.

Gradually the current slackened, till it was barely perceptible, and
the signal was given to continue warping. With a cheery "Yo-ho!" all
the hands ashore, including the doctor and myself, bent to their
task, and the "Fortuna" started on her final bid for freedom.

Suddenly there was a slight jar, and the yacht, trembling like a live
creature, brought up. With feverish anxiety, my father jumped into
the gig, which had already been brought through the gap, and examined
the water around the yacht's bows. A rough sounding gave him five
fathoms, while aft, where she had taken ground, there was not one and
a half fathoms.

"We must move her," he shouted. "If she's caught on a falling tide on
the ledge, she'll break her back."

"Tide's ebbing already, sir," exclaimed the bos'n. "Send every man
aboard and start the motor. 'Tis a last chance."

With the utmost haste we jumped into the boats and boarded the
"Fortuna," and, leaving one man as boat-keeper, every available
member of the crew, gathered on the fo'c'sle, all jumping in time to
help to free the yacht from the tenacious ledge.

The motor was set running, at full speed, and the bos'n alone
remained aft at the wheel.

"Altogether; shake her up!" was the cry, and we all jumped with
renewed energy. There was a dull grating sound, and the "Fortuna,"
slipping off the rock, glided into deep water and headed with
increasing speed towards the open sea.

In obedience to an order the men rushed aft, for the propeller was
almost out of the water, while Mr. Wilkins had the greatest
difficulty in keeping the yacht on her course; nor did she bring up
till she had passed without the natural breakwaters and over the
patch of deep water.

As she passed the whaler and the gig, the boat-keeper had dexterously
thrown a line on board, and both boats were safely in tow of the
yacht.

A sounding gave five fathoms, and the anchors were let go, and the
"Fortuna" was safely moored well clear of the dangerous reef.

"There's no time to be lost, sir," said the bos'n. "We are in an
exposed berth, and a gale might spring up at an hour's notice."

"That's true," replied my father. "And though the glass is steady, I
prefer to take no risks. It's a pity, though, that we are so far from
shore."

"It's as near as we can lie in safety, sir. There's foul ground close
to the reef, and the deep water between it and the bank on which
we've brought up is far too deep to anchor in. There's no bottom at a
hundred fathoms.

"Another freak of nature, I suppose. However, we must make the best
of things. Pipe away both boats, if you please, Mr. Wilkins, and
we'll start loading up at once."

Delighted with their success, the crew worked with a will, and both
boats put off for the lagoon to load up the silver pigs and
money-chests, only my father, Dr. Conolly, Yadillah, and myself
remaining on the yacht.

In a little over two hours' time we saw them returning through the
cutting. The whaler, deeply laden with its precious cargo, was
leading, the gig, also carrying some of the specie, being towed
astern, with only one man to steer.

"I don't like the look of that boat," remarked the doctor, pointing
to the whaler. "She's far too deep in the water."

"Oh, it's safe enough," replied my father. "The sea's calm, and,
besides, Wilkins knows what he's about."

We continued watching the progress of the boats as they slowly
approached the "Fortuna." They had cleared the seaward arms of the
natural breakwaters, and were entering the dark-blue patch that
indicated the deep water, when about a hundred or two hundred yards
off a column of water flew up in the air, and amidst the descending
spray a huge black shape appeared above the surface. "A whale!"
exclaimed my father and the doctor simultaneously.

"I hope it won't attack the boats," added Dr. Conolly.

"I think not. I've never known or heard of a whale attacking a boat
unless when struck by a harpoon."

"You haven't? Begorra!" exclaimed the doctor excitedly, bursting into
a Hibernian expression for the first time during his stay on the
yacht. "Then ye'll see it now."

As he spoke the whale made directly for the boats as if it recognized
in the whaler the shape of an enemy.

With a furious exclamation, my father sprang towards the Q.-F., which
happened to be uncovered, and, wrenching open the breech-block,
thrust a cartridge into the chamber; then, placing his shoulder
against the shoulder-piece, he swung the gun round towards the
advancing monster, but before his finger could touch the trigger the
doctor grasped his arm and forcibly dragged him away.

"We can do nothing," he muttered grimly. "See, the boats are already
in the line of fire." My father, realizing that the discharge of the
gun would result in the destruction of the boats in addition to the
annihilation of the whale, rushed to the side and awaited the
inevitable onslaught.

With great rapidity the huge monster made straight for its prey, and
from the boats shouts and cries of terror arose when the men became
aware of their peril. Some of the crew stood up, brandishing their
oars, to offer a puny resistance to the oncoming mass of animal
energy, others jumped overboard, and swam in all directions, while
the bos'n, with admirable presence of mind, drew his knife and cut
the painter that led from the stern of the whaler to the gig.

The next instant the whale seemed to lift its ponderous carcass clear
of the water; then, diving deeply beneath the downed boat, it struck
it an irresistible blow with its massive tail.

A shower of splinters and spray rose in the air, and amidst a
veritable maelstrom, the whaler, with its priceless freight,
disappeared beneath the waves, and the troubled water was dotted with
the heads of the swimmers and a jumble of floating oars and pieces of
broken wood.

The bulk of the treasure of the "San Philipo" was irrecoverably
lost.

Satisfied with the mischief it had wrought, the whale had
disappeared. The crew of the lost boat swam towards the gig, and
several began climbing over the low sides of the deeply laden little
craft.

"Why, if they are not careful, they'll sink her, too," exclaimed my
father in blank despair, but, fortunately, the swimmers realised the
risk, for, taking hold of the gunwales and lightly supporting
themselves, they allowed the men who had already clambered on board
to take the oars, and the gig made slowly for the "Fortuna."

Happening to look towards Dr. Conolly, I noticed he had his eyes
fixed on the boat and was counting in an audible voice "... eight,
nine, ten, eleven," and simultaneously the awful truth flashed in our
minds--there was one man missing.

"Surely not!" exclaimed my father in a horrified voice. "Surely not!
Count again, Conolly. Perhaps we cannot see every one. Isn't that a
man's head just showing above the boat's quarter?"

"... nine, ten, eleven."

There was no mistake in the numbers. Another man had gone to his last
account, and who was it? Not my uncle; he was in the water, holding
on to the side of the boat; nor the bos'n, nor Lord, the
quartermaster. Dailey, Stainer, and Mills were in the boat. Hinks,
Money, Lewis, Burbidge, and Alec Johnston, they were safe. Then only
Joe Dirham remained to be accounted for.

"Where's Dirham?" shouted my father as the boat crept alongside and
was made fast.

"Gone, sir," replied the survivors in a chorus. "Dragged down by the
whaler as she sank."

The men came in over the side, and the gig, with four of the boxes of
specie, was hauled up in the davits, and despondently, the crew went
for'ard to change their saturated garments.

For a while my father remained lost in thought, gazing blankly at the
spot where the whaler had sunk, the blue now peaceful and unruffled.
At length, overcome by the bitterness of his emotion, he turned on
his heel and sought the solitude of his cabin.

But pressing work had to be done. The whole of the iron ballast,
including the quantity which we had hoped would be supplanted by the
pigs of silver, had to be replaced with the utmost dispatch; the
water tanks had to be refilled, and stores procured from the island.
Working day and night in relays, the crew accomplished their task
within forty hours, and the "Fortuna" was ready for her long homeward
voyage.




Chapter XXI

CHECKMATE


"I WANT to ask your advice upon a certain matter, Mr. Herbert," said
the bos'n to my uncle that same evening. The "Fortuna" still remained
at anchor, for we were unwilling, owing to the changes caused by the
seismic disturbance, to make a passage in the darkness through the
shoals that surrounded the island.

My uncle and I were seated in deck chairs enjoying the cool of the
evening as well as our depressed spirits would allow, when Mr.
Wilkins approached, holding a bundle of papers in his hand.

"Well, what is it, Mr. Wilkins?"

"I've just been overhauling poor Dirham's ditty-box, sir, and there's
something queer about these letters. I thought I'd best show them to
you before I mention the matter to Mr. Trevena."

"They are all from the same individual, I notice," remarked Uncle
Herbert as he glanced at the address. "This, I take it, is the
first."

It was a plain envelope, on which was written, "Mr. J. Dirham, Yacht
'Fortuna,' Malta." Taking out the contents, Uncle Herbert held a
sheet of closely written paper up to the light of a deck lamp. On the
top of the paper was the heading, _The Yachtsman's Fortnightly
Journal_, with an address at Plymouth.


  DEAR SIR. (it ran),--
  We are in receipt of your letter of the 21st ult., and note the
  information given of "Fortuna" yacht as arranged. Kindly let us
  know as soon as can be ascertained the lat. and long. of the island
  to which you go. A further sum of five shillings has been placed to
  your credit in our ledgers.
             Yours very truly,
                       JAMES TICKET (Editor).


"There's something fishy about this, Mr. Wilkins. In the first place,
I don't believe there is such a journal as _The Yachtsman's
Fortnightly_, and, secondly, no editor would pen such un-English
jargon."

"That's what I thought, sir; now read this one."

The second communication was addressed to the yacht at Point de
Galle, Ceylon, and thanked the recipient for the information
regarding the position of San Philipo Island. Curiously enough, it
was signed "James Trickett," a difference of two letters to the
signature of the previous epistle.

"Do you think we might show them to Mr. Trevena?" asked the bos'n. "I
don't like to worry him, seeing him so cut up just at present.

"I don't think it will do him any harm," replied my uncle. "If
anything, it will give him something to occupy his mind. I am of the
opinion that some underhand business is afloat, and that Dirham was
an agent in the matter. However, we'll see what my brother has to say
about it."

So saying, he led the way to the cabin, where my father was sitting
brooding over the calamities of the day. Without speaking, my uncle
handed him the packet of letters, which my father carelessly took,
but before he had read the first two or three his face lighted up
with animated interest.

"What do you make of the business?" asked my uncle. "It seems a bit
of a mystery?"

"A mystery? My word!--the whole affair is as clear as daylight. An
interested party, or parties, must have been trying to find out the
destination of the 'Fortuna' in order to try, and cut her out, as it
were. What surprises me is that a rival expedition has not appeared
on the scene before now; but let them come," he added bitterly; "they
are welcome to what's left."

"Then you think the _Yachtsman's Fortnightly Journal_ is a myth!"

"Undoubtedly. There never was such a periodical, and it is merely a
blind. Dirham was a traitor, though perhaps he acted in ignorance of
the jeopardy, in which he might have placed us, thinking that he was
merely giving commonplace information to a yachting paper; and I am
convinced that, judging by the orthographical and grammatical errors
in these letters, the author is none other than your Brazilian
friend, the fellow you shot when he broke into our house."

"Your explanation seems plausible."

"Nothing could be more simple. The Brazilian received the particulars
of the position of the island from Dirham, who, judging by the
postmarks and addresses on these envelopes, sent the information from
Port Said or Suez. It was after we left Malta, you remember, that the
latitude and longitude of the island became an open secret. No doubt
the villain, who may be a man of wealth or at least of considerable
means, knew far more about the treasure than we are aware. He might
have wormed part of the secret from Ross Trevena or his son during
their residence near Pernambuco. However, he receives the
information, for, as you see here, he acknowledges the receipt of it,
and I'll be greatly surprised if a private steam-yacht has not been
chartered to try and carry off the treasure before we arrived at the
island."

"I should like to witness their disappointment," remarked my uncle.

"It would not be greater than mine is," replied my father, relapsing
into a depressed tone at the thought of our ill-fortune. "Two poor
fellows have been sacrificed to the lust of gold, and the bulk of the
treasure lies at the bottom of the sea."

"You may recover it yet, 'sir," exclaimed the bos'n. "The divers are
willing to make the attempt, and it may be that there is less water
at the spot where the whaler sank than we know of."

"No, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father emphatically, "I'll have no more
lives risked in the matter. The stuff can stay where it is. After
all, we have not done so badly, if we do not take into consideration
the two deplorable fatalities. The two large chests, four boxes of
specie, and the gold plate are not to be sneezed at, and, as I have
already announced to the crew, every man will be well provided for
when the treasure is shared out. Even now we have done better than
most of the treasure-hunting syndicates that have been formed in
recent years, for we have a substantial balance in hand."

"Then we'll weigh anchor to-morrow, sir?" asked the bos'n.
"Everything is shipshape--stores, water, and ballast are aboard."

"You must have worked well," exclaimed my father enthusiastically.
"Yes, to-morrow at daybreak."

  * * * * *

The rasping of the windlass and the clinking of the cable as it came
slowly inboard were the welcome sounds that greeted my ears early the
next morning, and, jumping out of my bunk, I proceeded to dress in
order to have a glimpse of San Philipo Island before it was lost to
view. But before I was half-way through that operation a hoarse voice
shouted "Sail-ho!"

"What can that be?" I asked myself.

The next instant the bos'n came running down the companion, and,
knocking at the door of my father's cabin, he exclaimed--

"A large steam-yacht approaching, sir!"

"Any flag?"

"No, sir; she shows no colours."

"How far away is she?"

"About two miles to the south-east, and she's making straight for the
island."

"The rival treasure-seekers!" I exclaimed excitedly. "Now for some
excitement," and, hastily completing my toilet, I rushed on deck,
where Uncle Herbert, Dr. Conolly, and the crew, save those who manned
the windlass, were intently watching the approach of the strange
craft. Presently we were joined by my father.

The vessel, which had apparently been making about eleven knots, was
now within half a mile, and her engines were eased down preparatory
to anchoring. She was about two hundred tons displacement, with
schooner bows, and carried two pole masts. With a telescope I saw the
crew, clustered up for'ard, regarding us with the same curiosity that
we were bestowing upon them. They were mostly dark-featured, some
being black, and were rigged out in white canvas clothing and
red-stocking caps. On the bridge were five or six men, evidently
officers, in dark-blue uniforms; plentifully embellished with gold
lace and buttons. A more inappropriate uniform for the tropics would
be hard to obtain, unless it were a motor-coat; but it seemed evident
from their love of finery; that these men came from a Latin
nation--Italy or Spain, or one of their offshoots.

"Up and down!" shouted the bos'n, who was superintending the weighing
of the anchor, referring to the fact that the chain had already taken
the weight of our ground-tackle off the bottom'.

"Avast heaving!" he continued, at a sign from my father, and the
clanking of the winch ceased, the dripping anchor hanging just clear
of the surface. In the tideless sea, with not a breath of wind to
ruffle the absolutely calm water, the "Fortuna" lay motionless,
awaiting the approach of her rival.

"Blest if I don't know 'er!" exclaimed one of the crew. "Why, if she
ain't the old 'Ermyhony' that used ter lie off Priddy's. 'Ard when I
was in the 'Nelson' I'll eat my 'at."

"The what did he say?" I asked the doctor.

"The 'Hermione' I suppose he means," he replied with a smile.

"Hoist our colours," ordered my father, and the blue ensign was run
up to the mizzen-truck, where it hung motionless in the still
atmosphere.

The strange yacht still held on her course, and slowly, so slowly
that it seemed like an exhibition of sulky reluctance, her ensign was
hoisted, and simultaneously, with a heavy splash and a loud rattle of
chain, the anchor was let go.

To me, her colours, as they hung in folds from her mainmast head,
appeared to be a mixture of blue, green, and yellow, but my ignorance
of their nationality was dispelled by a general exclamation, "The
Brazilian ensign!"

"There you are! Am I not right?" said my father.

"Yes," replied Uncle Herbert, who was studying the group on the
bridge through a glass. "And see that fellow by the chart-house door,
the second from the end? I would know him anywhere in spite of his
brass-bound togs. It's our old acquaintance, _alias_ James Ticket,
right enough. But see him scowl!"

"They're signalling, sir," said Lord, the quartermaster, as a string,
of bunting fluttered up from her bridge.

"International code: 'I want to communicate,'" reported the bos'n.

"Reply in the negative," repeated my father; "and give my compliments
to the Editor of the _Yachtsman's Fortnightly._"

The motor throbbed, and the "Fortuna," gathering way, showed her
stern to the Brazilian yacht, the crew of which were dividing their
attention between the vessel that had baulked their enterprise and
the gaunt outlines of the hulk of the "San Philipo," as, raised on
the summit of the reef, she stood out boldly against the cliffs of
the treasure island.

In another hour we had caught a favouring breeze, and the scene of
our many and varied adventures had disappeared beneath the horizon.
The "Fortuna" was homeward bound.

  * * * * *

Little remains to be said concerning the "San Philipo" treasure. The
"Fortuna" had a long, though pleasant, passage home, Dr. Conolly
leaving the yacht at Singapore, where he received a cablegram from
London offering him his long-desired post as medical officer on a
liner.

Yadillah took his discharge at Suez, and, with a fair share of the
spoils, announced his intention of setting up as a bumboatman at that
port.

Eighteen months after our departure the "Fortuna" entered Fowey
Harbour, where an enthusiastic welcome awaited us.

Once more we were back in our home at Polruan, Alec Johnston
remaining as a trusted servant. The rest of the crew of the "Fortuna"
have scattered far and wide, but we frequently hear from most of
them, while the bos'n and the quartermaster, who have bought pretty
little cottages near Falmouth, often pay us a welcome visit.

The proceeds of the residue of the treasure have been judiciously
invested, and the only thing that apparently troubles my father is
the importunities of the Inland Revenue authorities.

One link serves to remind me forcibly of the past. Over the door of
the now rebuilt summer-house that had played an important part in
this story is fixed the huge graven image which we had brought from
the treasure island; and I never look at it without vividly recalling
the terrifying ordeal I underwent when lying bound and helpless
before the figure-head of the "San Philipo."



UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON



  THE BOY'S LIBRARY OF
  _Adventure and Heroism_

_An excellent series of Gift Books, of good bulk, handsomely
printed, illustrated and bound. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt,
 wrappers._ 4s. net.

The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A lively and thoroughly healthy tale of Public School life;
  abounding in stirring incident and in humorous descriptions.

A Hero in Wolfskin. By Tom BEVAN.
  A Story of Pagan and Christian.
  A young Goth performs feats of valour against the Roman legions,
  and dazzles a huge audience with his prowess in the Coliseum.

The Adventures of Val Daintry in the Graeco-Turkish War.
  By V. L. GOING
  A bright and vigorous story, the main scenes of which are laid in
  the last war between Turkey and Greece.

The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch.
  By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A straightforward story of school-life, and of the duties and
  temptations of young men entering upon the work of life.

The Cock-House at Fellsgarth. A Public School Story.
  By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  The juniors' rollicking fun, the seniors' rivalry, the school
  elections and football match are all told in a forcible manner.

Wild Life in Sunny Lands. By GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N.
  A capital book of some butterfly-hunters' adventures, including
  fighting bears, and penetrating trackless jungles in various
  Oriental regions, told in this author's usual vivid style.

A Dog with a Bad Name. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  The story of a big, ungainly youth who seemed fated to be
  misunderstood, and to be made the butt of his comrades.

The Master of the Shell. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  Dealing with the pranks of schoolboys, bubbling over with mischief
  and fun, and the trials of a young House-Master.

From Scapegrace to Hero. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  The Scapegrace, who became a thorough-going hero, was a wild,
  unmanageable village boy possessing an inveterate taste for
  mischief.

My Friend Smith. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A first-rate story dealing with the temptations and difficulties
  boys meet with when entering upon business life.

Comrades under Canvas. By FREDERICK P. GIBBON.
  A breezy, healthy tale, dealing with the adventures of three Boys'
  Brigade companies during their annual camp.

Parkhurst Boys, and other Stories of School Life.
  By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A collection of stories from The Boy's Own Paper, containing some
  of this popular author's best work and brightest wit.

Reginald Cruden. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  Depicting the last days at school of Reginald Cruden, who then
  starts in business at the bottom of the ladder.

Roger Ingleton, Minor. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A bright, vigorous story for boys, introducing the reader to
  various characters, all drawn with this well-known author's usual
  skill and power.

For Queen and Emperor. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  A vivid description of the deadly struggle of the undisciplined
  Britons against the victorious Romans, in which the exploits of
  Boadicea are depicted.

The Cruise of "The Golden Fleece." By SARDIUS HANCOCK.
  This stirring story of the days of Queen Mary is full of exciting
  adventure, with battles on sea and on land.

That Boy of Fraser's. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  David Fraser passed through many troubles caused by the
  disappearance of his father; how he encountered them makes
  invigorating reading.

A Collegian in Khaki. By WILLIAM JOHNSTON.
  A South African war story abounding in adventure. The hero is
  taken prisoner, escapes, and takes part in many battles.

With Rifle and Kukri. By FREDERICK P. GIBBON.
  The many heroic deeds called forth by England's "little wars"
  along the Indian frontier are here narrated in stirring language.

Meltonians All! By F. COWLEY WHITEHOUSE.
  A first-rate story of school-life and after, full of vim and
  stirring incidents. Jim, Ken and Goggles make a fine trio.

Myddleton's Treasure. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  Railway accidents, the evil doings of those in power, a shipwreck,
  and adventures in Africa all help to make up a thrilling story.

The Baymouth Scouts. By Tom BEVAN.
  A thrilling story, especially suitable for Boy Scouts, of the days
  of Napoleon, and his threatened invasion of England.

The Last of the Paladins. By CHARLES DESLYS.
  A romance of the chivalry of the Middle Ages, of gallant knights
  and beautiful ladies, of battles and heroic feats.

Rollinson and I. By W. E. CULE.
  The Story of a Summer Term. An attractive tale of schoolboy life,
  detailing a broken friendship, much misunderstanding, repentance,
  and finally reconciliation between the two characters in the
  title-role.

Under the Edge of the Earth. By F. H. BOLTON.
  A schoolmaster with a genius for mathematics has various hobbies,
  one of which proves useful in the rescuing of a kidnapped boy.

Derrick Orme's Schooldays. By EDITH C. KENYON.
  Describes the experiences and persecutions of a high-minded
  Colonial lad by a bullying schoolfellow, who is at last driven to
  admit his transgressions.

Sir Ludar. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A stirring tale of the days of Queen Elizabeth, dealing with the
  wonderful adventures of a sturdy 'prentice-lad.

Tom, Dick and Harry. By TALBOT BAINES REED.
  A splendid story, exhibiting in the highest degree this popular
  author's knowledge of schoolboy life and humour.

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.




  _The Boy's Own Series_

_Excellent stories by popular authors, attractively bound, and
well illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 
wrappers,_ 3s. 6d. net.

Max Victor's Schooldays: the Friends he made and the Foes he
conquered. By S. S. PUGH.
  This history of the friends Max made and the foes he conquered,
  makes up a very interesting story of schoolboy life that is full of
  incident.

The Martyr's Victory. By EMMA LESLIE.
  A Tale of Danish England. A stirring tale of the ninth century,
  dealing with the ravages of the East Anglian Danes on the fields of
  Mercia and Wessex.

Gentleman Jackson. By H. FREDERICK CHARLES.
  A Story of London Life. A lad starts in life heavily handicapped
  by a drunken father, but succeeds by hard work in attaining an
  honourable position.

The Story of a City Arab. By GEORGE B. SARGENT.
  Describes the life of a poor, neglected youth, brought up amid
  wretchedness, and shows how honesty may enable the very poorest to
  surmount the difficulties of their position.

Harold, the Boy Earl. By J. F. HODGETTS.
  A Story of Old England. A stirring tale of Saxon England, full of
  adventure and facts relating to the life and thrilling deeds of
  those exciting times.

Ilderim, the Afghan. By DAVID KER.
  A Tale of the Indian Border. A stirring and highly imaginative
  tale of India, in which three lads have many exciting and thrilling
  adventures while engaged in fighting the Afghans.

Adventures In the South Pacific. By ONE WHO WAS BORN THERE.
  The hero passes through hurricanes and famines; and perilous risks
  from man-eaters, sharks, and other foes of the human race.

Captain Cook. His Life, Voyages and Discoveries.
  By W. H. G. KINGSTON.
  The life and labours of this well-known explorer, his discoveries
  and various adventures among the South Sea Islands, are graphically
  described.

The Heir of Bragwell Hall. By ALFRED BEER.
  A powerful story, in which the young heir, an objectionable
  person, encounters many disasters in a tour round the world; these
  change his whole character.

The Wallaby Man. By Dr. A. N. MALAN, F.G.S.
  The "Wallaby Man" keeps a tame kangaroo. Two schoolboys attracted
  by the animal get mixed up, unwillingly, in two robberies. A very
  amusing story.

Untrue to His Trust; or, Plotters and Patriots.
  By HENRY JOHNSON.
  A masterly tale of life and adventure during that interval of
  suspense between the death of Cromwell and the return of the "Merry
  Monarch."

Kormak, the Viking. By J. FREDERICK HODGETTS.
  This vigorous story abounds in exciting incidents, and depicts
  vividly the life on land and sea of our old Viking ancestors.

Cyril's Quest; or, O'er Vale and Hill in the Land of the Inca.
  By A. GRAY.
  Hal proceeds to Peru in search of treasure, and is lost. His
  brother goes after him, and their adventures and final success
  are well depicted.

The Voyage of "The Stormy Petrel."
  By W. C. METCALFE.
  A stirring tale of an adventurous voyage in which exciting
  incidents, narrow escapes, and strange experiences follow one
  another in rapid succession.

Duck Lake. By E. RYERSON YOUNG.
  Stories of the Canadian Backwoods.
  The bush life of the settlers is pictured with a graphic pen, and
  there are a number of sensational episodes, including a bear hunt.

The Settlers of Karossa Creek, and other Stories
  of Australian Bush Life. By LOUIS BECKE.
  A sturdy family of selectors win success in spite of drought, bush
  fires, and the enmity of a couple of desperate ruffians.

The Specimen Hunters. By J. MACDONALD OXLEY.
  A Story of Adventure in India and the Far East.
  Professor Orde, with his two nephews, has many thrilling
  adventures and hairbreadth escapes while in quest of specimens of
  wild animals in the Far East.

Out in the Silver West. By Dr. CORDON STABLES, R.N.
  A Story of Struggle and Adventure.
  Depicting, in Dr. Gordon Stables' usual vivid style, the
  difficulties, hardships and experiences peculiar to early settler
  life in the Argentine Republic.

The Camp Doctor, and other Stories.
  By E. RYERSON YOUNG.
  A splendid series of stories dealing with settler and Indian life
  in the back-woods of Canada; full of incident and excitement.

In the Van of the Vikings. By M. F. OUTRAM.
  A fascinating story of the Vikings, whose courage and skill in
  fighting is always attractive, skilfully woven from real Norwegian
  history and tradition.

In the Heart of the Silent Sea. By F. H. BOLTON.
  An up-to-date story of intense interest for boys who love
  adventure and exciting situations, and illustrating the
  possibilities of the airship.

Bob Marchant's Scholarship. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  A capital story of school life. Bob Marchant, a noble,
  generous-hearted fellow, gained distinction in spite of adverse
  circumstances and untold difficulties.

The Heroism of Lancelot. By JEANIE FERRY.
  Lancelot is bitter at first against his twin brother Rex, but
  eventually risks his life for him, and later risks his whole career
  as well.

Jack Safford. By WILLIAM WEBSTER.
  A Tale of the East Coast.
  A thrilling story of adventure on land and sea. Jack, among other
  things, had to find a way out of a very awkward predicament.

Allan Adair; or, Here and There in Many Lands.
  By Dr. GORDON STABLES, R.N.
  Allan sees the world with a vengeance, circumnavigating the globe,
  and having a succession of miraculous escapes from death in all
  conceivable forms.

Gallant Sir John. By SARDIUS HANCOCK.
  Sir John performs many deeds of daring at Agincourt. The schemes
  hatched against him are all brought to naught, and he marries the
  lady of his choice.

The Voyage of the "Blue Vega." By Dr. GORDON STABLES, R.N.
  A brisk, dashing story, full of wild adventure. The weird
  description of the frozen ship and crew is thrilling and
  blood-curdling.

St. Merville's Scholarship Boys. By ERNEST PROTHEROE.
  Two boys climb from an Elementary to a Public School, where they
  meet with exciting adventures, especially in combating the schemes
  of the school bully.

Young Sir Ralph. By M. E. FRASER.
  Ralph is haughty, sulky, wilful and disobedient, but he is
  eventually teased out of his selfish ways by several young persons
  with whom he stays.

The Boy Settler; or, The Adventures of Sidney
  Bartlett. By H. C. STOKER.
  Stirred by a desire for adventure, Sydney Bartlett joins the New
  Zealand Mounted Police during the Maori War, and afterwards becomes
  a settler in that country.

The Heroes of Castle Bretten. By M. S. COMRIE.
  The hero is a lad of indomitable courage, and, with his friend,
  has many exciting adventures before he finally succeeds in tracing
  his lost father.

Branan, the Pict. By M. F. OUTRAM.
  A Story of the Days of St. Columba.
  A slave boy only discovers that he is a king after he has saved
  his young mistress from the long-lived vengeance of a rejected
  suitor.

John Delmayne's Ambitions. By MARK WINCHESTER.
  John joins an expedition to the heart of Africa. His terrible
  experiences with the Ruga Ruga tribe and his remarkable escape are
  told with great cleverness.

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.




  _Splendid Tales for Boys_

_Full of excitement, incident and adventure, yet pure
and wholesome reading throughout._

_Illustrated. Crown 8vo, or large crown 8vo, cloth gilt._

Jeffrey of the White Wolf Trail.
  By J. CLAVERDON WOOD. 5_s_. net.
  Tells in a stirring way how a schoolboy, after many rough
  experiences as a scout, Indian fighter and ranchman, finally became
  a wealthy mine-owner.

Sinclair of the Scouts. By CLAVERDON WOOD. 5_s_. net.
  An exciting story of thrilling incidents, hairbreadth escapes, and
  daring adventures. For skill, pluck, ability and confidence Tom is
  hard to beat.

Branan, the Pict. By M. F. OUTRAM. 3_s_. 6_d_. net.
  A slave boy only discovers that he is a king, after he has saved
  his young mistress from the long-lived vengeance of a rejected
  suitor.

The Conscience of Roger Treherne.
  By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3s. net.
  Roger's warfare with himself, a year or so of storm and stress, is
  powerfully and skilfully told.

In Pursuit of a Phantom. By E. EVERETT-GREEN.
2_s_. 6_d_. net.
  An up-to-date tale of society with its bridge-playing and
  gambling, and the consequences that follow in their train.

John Delmayne's Ambitions. By MARK WINCHESTER. 3_s_. 6_d_. net.
  John joins an expedition to the heart of Africa. His terrible
  experiences with the Ruga Ruga tribe and his remarkable escape are
  told with great cleverness.

Marcus Stratford's Charge; or, Roy's Temptation.
  By E. EVERETT-GREEN. 3_s_. net.
  Roy had much to contend with, and for a time gave way to unworthy
  suspicions, but he at length conquered temptation.

In Quest of Hatasu. By IRENE STRICKLAND TAYLOR. 3_s_. net.
  Graphically describes the search for the tomb of the ancient Queen
  of Egypt, while the final scene and combat with Arab tomb riflers,
  and the explosion, give a decided thrill.

LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.




  [Transcriber's Notes:

    This book contains a number of misprints.
    The following misprints have been corrected:

      [and the puzzle is, What] -->
         [and the puzzle is, what]

      [asked Hicks, knocking] -->
         [asked Hinks, knocking] (*)

      [immesiately stopped the engine] -->
         [immediately stopped the engine]

      [Do you think they heard the shot on board the 'Fortuna'!] -->
         [Do you think they heard the shot on board the 'Fortuna'?]

      [A Tale of the East Cost] -->
         [A Tale of the East Coast]

    *) The name "Hinks" occurs 8 times in the text, "Hicks"
       just once. Also from the surrounding text it becomes clear
       that it must be "Hinks"

    An Illustrations-list has been added after the Contents-list.

    A few illustrations didn't have a description. A description has
    been provided by the transcriber to make reference to it possible.
    To distinguish them from the other illustrations, the description
    is put in lower-case.

    Several illustrations depict tables with numbers. These
    tables are converted to text in the plain text version.

    There are two "misprints" in the illustrations depicting tables:

    1) The illustration of the unsolved cipher should show an extra
    seconds-mark. You can see this by comparing it with the
    illustration of the solved cipher, where you see the extra
    seconds-mark next to the second degrees-mark.

    2) The solved cipher shows totals in the top-row and the last column
    on the right. The total in the top-row, 6th square, should be "191"
    instead of "19".

  ]





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Treasure of the 'San Philipo', by
Percy F. Westerman

*** 