Kitabı oku: «The Rushton Boys at Treasure Cove: or, The Missing Chest of Gold», sayfa 4
CHAPTER X
THE CASTAWAY
For the next few minutes there was not much talking, and the boys devoted themselves to making a wreck of the good things heaped before them. Their morning in the salt air on the open sea had put them in fine fettle and they had enormous appetites.
“Well,” said Fred, when at last they were satisfied, “we have to hand it to you as a cook, Mr. Lee. You certainly know how to make things taste good.”
“Lester comes rightly by his talent in fixing up the eats,” declared Bill.
“A sailor has to learn to turn his hand to anything,” laughed their host. “He gets into lots of places where he has to depend on himself alone or go hungry. I’ve been shipwrecked twice in the course of my life, and I’ve had to learn to eat all sorts of things and to cook them in a way that would help me get them down.”
“Talking about shipwrecks,” he went on, as he filled and lighted his pipe and settled down for an after-dinner smoke, “reminds me of the fellow you say you picked up yesterday. How did he come there? Go ahead and spin your yarn.”
“It wasn’t exactly a shipwreck,” explained Lester. “The boat wasn’t smashed, and as a matter of fact we found it for Ross again to-day. It was a motor boat–”
“A motor boat!” interrupted Mr. Lee, with a sniff. He had the distrust felt by most deep-water sailors, of what he called “these pesky modern contraptions.”
“Ross was tinkering with some part of the machinery that had gone wrong,” continued Lester, “when a big wave caught him and carried him overboard. We were near by at the time and we made for him and got him.”
“Yanked him in with a boathook, I suppose,” said his father.
“We were too late for that,” answered Lester. “He had gone down, but Fred grabbed a rope and dived over after him. It was a close call, but he got him, and then we dragged them both in.”
“A plucky thing to do in a storm like that,” commented Mr. Lee, looking approvingly at Fred.
“Ross came to after a while, and we found that the only hurt he had was the water he had swallowed,” went on Lester. “We couldn’t do anything with the motor boat just then, so we made straight for Sentinel Cove. This morning, Montgomery was as good as ever.”
Mr. Lee started slightly as he heard this name.
“Montgomery, did you say?” he asked. “I thought you called him Ross.”
“Yes, Ross Montgomery. Why?”
“Nothing,” was the reply. “Go ahead with your story.”
“There isn’t very much more to tell, as far as we’re concerned. We anchored at the cove for the night, and got away bright and early this morning. But Ross himself had a story to tell that has got us all worked up. You’d never guess what it was, Dad, in a thousand years.”
“I never was much good at guessing,” smiled Mr. Lee, “so let’s have it just as he told it.”
Lester started at the beginning and told the story as he had received it from Ross, with frequent suggestions from the other boys to remind him of some slight detail he had overlooked.
Mr. Lee listened intently, but he asked no questions, and for some minutes after Lester had finished he continued to smoke in silence, while the boys looked at him eagerly, anxious to know what he made of it.
“Well, Dad,” said Lester, a little impatiently, “what do you think of the story? Is there anything in it?”
“There’s a great deal in it,” replied Mr. Lee gravely, removing his pipe from his mouth. “I believe every word of it is true.”
The boys were delighted at this confirmation of their own feeling by a mind more mature than theirs. They had been afraid that Mr. Lee would ridicule the story, or throw cold water on their plan to go ahead and try to find the treasure.
“I was perfectly sure that Ross was telling us the truth,” jubilated Teddy.
“I never doubted that for a minute,” put in Bill, “but I thought he might be building hope on a very slight foundation. After all, he has so little to go on.”
“Then you really think that there was a chest of gold and that smugglers took it from Mr. Montgomery and buried it?” asked Fred.
“I think they took it from him, but I don’t think they buried it,” answered Mr. Lee.
“What do you think they did with it; spent it?” asked Teddy in quick alarm.
“I don’t think that either,” was the reply. “I think they hid it somewhere and that it’s there yet.”
“Oh!” said Fred, with a sigh of relief. “Then we still have a chance.”
“Now, look here, Dad!” exclaimed Lester, “I can see by what you’re saying that you know more about this thing than we do. Don’t tease us by acting in such a mysterious way. Come right out with it.”
Mr. Lee laughed good-naturedly.
“You boys are always in a hurry,” he remarked as he refilled his pipe with a deliberation that was maddening to his hearers. “But just let me get my pipe drawing well, and I’ll tell you all I know. It isn’t so much after all as maybe you think, but it may help to piece out a bit here and there.”
He settled himself comfortably in his seat and began:
“It was about nine or ten years ago–I don’t remember the exact date–that Mark Taylor was out fishing at a point about twenty miles from here.”
“The Mark Taylor who lives in Milton?” inquired Lester.
“That was the one. He wasn’t having very good luck, and had about made up his mind to pull up and go home, when he caught sight of a little boat tossing up and down on the waves. It didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and Mark could see that there was no one rowing or steering it. He thought that was strange and made up his mind he’d look into the matter. So he ran up his sail and ran over to what he thought was the empty boat. He told me afterwards he was knocked all in a heap, when he saw a man lying in the bottom of it.
“At first Mark thought the man was either dead or drunk. But there wasn’t any smell of liquor on him, and he moved when Mark touched him. Mark saw that something serious was the matter, and he tried to get the man into his sailboat. But Mark didn’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds, and this man was so big and so heavily built that he had to give it up.
“So, leaving the man in it, he tied the small boat to the stern of his, and made a quick run for home. He took the man into his cabin and sent for the doctor. The doctor examined the man carefully and found a big gash in his head that looked as though it had been made with a hatchet. He saw it hadn’t reached a vital point, though, so he sewed it up and left some medicine, promising to come again the next day.
“Mark said that the doctor had no sooner gone than the man began to rave and toss about. After a while he became violent, and Mark, being a small man as I have said, had to call in some of the neighbors to hold him down. He seemed to imagine that he was in a fight and that a crowd was piling on him. And he kept talking about ‘the gold’ and ‘the chest,’ and vowing that they would never get it away from him.”
A murmur ran around the listening circle.
“Mark didn’t pay much attention to what he said,” resumed Mr. Lee, “because he thought it was only the raving of a crazy man.
“Mark and the neighbors searched his clothes and found some papers that showed them the man’s name was Montgomery. They found out, too, that he lived in a place on the coast of Canada. They wrote to his folks right away, and a couple of men came down to take him home as soon as he was able to travel.
“That wasn’t for a good while, though, for Montgomery had come down with an attack of brain fever that kept him on his back for weeks. He got over that at last, but his mind wasn’t right. He wasn’t violent any longer but was melancholy. Went around all the time in a daze. Couldn’t get anything out of him, except that he kept muttering to himself about ‘the gold.’ Sometimes, though, he’d speak of debts that seemed to worry him. He couldn’t carry on any connected conversation, and he’d get so excited when any one tried to question him, that the doctor said they must let him alone.
“He was taken away as soon as he was strong enough, and that’s the last Mark ever saw of him. A little while later, the man’s wife sent a little money to Mark to cover his expenses in caring for her husband, and she said in her letter that he was no better. And from what you boys tell me to-day, he must have died soon after.”
“Didn’t he give any hint of where this fight and robbery had taken place?” asked Fred.
“No, except that Mark says the man often spoke of Bartanet Shoals. Of course, that may have meant something and it may have meant nothing. Still, judging from where the boat was found, it probably was somewhere within fifty miles of here.”
“Fifty miles,” murmured Bill. “That’s an awful lot of territory to cover.”
“Wasn’t there anything in the little boat to give a clue?” asked Teddy.
“Not a thing except that it had the name ’Ranger’ painted on the stern. That showed that it must have come from a large boat of that name.”
“Are you sure that Mark didn’t tell you anything else that might give us a hint?” asked Lester. “Try to remember, Dad.”
“Well,” mused his father, “I didn’t question him very much at the time, because I felt as he did, that it was just the foolish raving of a man who was out of his head.”
“How far is Milton from here?” questioned Bill.
“Only a matter of twenty-five miles or so,” was the answer.
“We’ll go over and see Mark the first chance we get,” said Lester decidedly. “He may drop something when we put him through the third degree that may put us on the trail.”
“That’s a good idea,” commented his father. “Mark’s growing pretty old now and his memory isn’t as good as it was, but he may remember something that will be of use. At any rate there’s no harm in trying.”
“We have something to work with now,” said Fred cheerily. “We’ve been able to check up Ross’ story and know that he wasn’t dreaming. Then, too, we have the name of the man who actually found Mr. Montgomery when he was set adrift, if that’s the way he came into the open boat.”
“But there must be more,” persisted Lester. “What did you mean, Dad, when you said that the gold wasn’t buried but that it was hidden?”
“You’re right,” admitted his father, “there is more that happened some time later.”
CHAPTER XI
THE SMUGGLERS’ FLIGHT
The boys were all on edge as they awaited further developments.
“Six years ago,” resumed Mr. Lee, “an old sailor, named Tom Bixby, who had sailed on the same ship with me in the old days, drifted down this way, and hearing that I had charge of the lighthouse came over to see me. Tom was always a decent sort of fellow, and I was glad to see him and talk over the old times when we had sailed the seas together.
“He stayed here a couple of days and one night he told me a strange story.
“It seems that his last trip had been on a four-master sailing out of Halifax. She had been rather short-handed, and the skipper had been worrying about where he could get enough sailors to work his craft.
“While he was casting around, he was surprised and glad one day to have half a dozen burly fellows come aboard and offer to sign articles for the voyage. They told a story of just having finished a trip on a tramp from Liverpool, and as they were all messmates they were anxious to get a berth together on the same ship.
“The captain didn’t ask any question–no captain ever does when he happens to be short-handed–and he signed the men on at once. That very night the ship hove her anchor and put out to sea.
“They were to go around Cape Horn, and it would be at least two years and maybe more before they would see home again.
“Tom said that the men were good, smart sailors and no mistake. But there was something queer about them. They didn’t mix much with the others of the crew. They would gather together in a little knot when they were off duty and talk in whispers. It seemed as though some secret held them together.
“The man who seemed to be most influential among them was a big Portuguese named Manuel. The others seemed to stand in fear of him. He didn’t seem like a common sailor, but acted as if he were used to giving orders instead of obeying them.
“Tom said that at last he got rather chummy with one of them, named Dick, and used to have long talks with him. From what the man let slip, Tom learned that he had passed most of his life in the coastwise trade, and though he didn’t say right out that he had been a smuggler, Tom guessed as much.
“One night Dick, while reefing sails in a blow, had a bad fall from aloft. He was a very sick man for a while, and the skipper didn’t know whether he’d pull through or not. The captain detailed Tom to look after him, and in that way they got more confidential than ever.
“One day Dick had a turn for the worse and thought he was going to die. He was dreadfully scared and after a good deal of beating around the bush, told Tom that he wanted to get something off his mind. He didn’t want to die, he said, without having made a clean breast of it.
“Then he went on to say that he had been a seaman on board a coastwise trader called the Ranger that hailed from some Canadian port not far from Halifax. She did a good deal of legitimate trading, but mixed in with this a considerable amount of smuggling.
“Her captain was a man named Ramsay–”
“That’s the very name Ross gave us,” broke in Teddy excitedly.
“He was a hard man, but, outside the smuggling, a straight one,” resumed Mr. Lee, “and the people along the coast had confidence in him.
“One day a man, whose name Dick didn’t remember, came aboard for a trip to the New England coast. He had considerable luggage, and among other things there was a heavy box that it took two men to handle. The man had them put the box in his cabin, although some other things he permitted to be placed in the hold.
“They had only been a day or two out, when Ramsay was killed by a tackle block that fell from aloft while he was walking the deck. The mate, Manuel, who Dick explained was the big Portuguese, took command and the captain was buried at sea.
“The passenger seemed to grow nervous after the captain’s death, and kept pretty closely to his room. But he couldn’t stay there always, and one day when he entered it he found Manuel there trying to open the chest. There was a fight right away, and in the struggle the man was badly hurt by a blow from a hatchet that Manuel had in his hand.
“The whole crew had been drawn to the spot by the struggle, and Dick says they were all scared, even Manuel himself, at the outcome of the fight. Manuel would have robbed, but neither he nor the others would have gone so far as to murder.
“But they had got into the scrape now, and felt that they might as well be hung for sheep as for lambs. They had passed Bartanet Shoals a few hours before the fight took place–”
“That’s why Mr. Montgomery kept harping on that, I suppose,” said Lester. “It was one of his last conscious thoughts.”
“That must have been it,” said his father. “They opened the box and got the surprise of their lives. Dick said that there was nothing but gold pieces, and it shone so that it dazzled their eyes.”
“Did he say how much there was?” asked Bill.
“Dick said he didn’t know, but it must have been a great many thousands of dollars. Dick was an ignorant fellow and he said he didn’t know that there was as much money as that in the world.
“At any rate, there was more money than any one of them could ever hope to earn at the beggarly wages they were getting. They took an oath then and there that they would divide the gold evenly among them, and all swore to take the life of any one who betrayed the others.
“They didn’t dare keep on their voyage to the port where they were going. There would have been too much explaining to do. So they made for a cove on the coast–”
“Where was it? What was its name? How far from here?” came in a chorus from the boys.
“A cove on the coast,” went on Mr. Lee, disregarding the interruption, “where they could think things over and make their plans. They anchored at a little distance out, and came into the cove in a small boat, carrying the chest of gold and the unconscious passenger. They carried the gold ashore and left the passenger in the boat. But in the excitement, they must have failed to draw the boat far enough up on the sand. At all events, it got adrift and floated out into the darkness.
“When they missed it, they were panic-stricken. They didn’t know what to do with the gold. If it had been in small bills that couldn’t have been traced, the matter would have been easy enough. But they feared that if Mr. Montgomery escaped and recovered there would be a regular hue and cry, and a close watch kept for any one who was spending gold pieces, which is rather an unusual thing to do in these days of paper money. Of course, professional sharpers would have found some way out, but these men were not that, and now that they had taken part in a crime they were in deadly fear of detection.
“They concluded at last that the best thing they could do for the present was to leave the gold in its chest carefully concealed in that lonely place, sail their ship to some harbor where they could sell it for what it would bring, and then ship together on a long voyage that would keep them out of the country until the storm blew over. Thus each could watch the others and when they got back they could get the chest and divide the gold among them.
“Tom told me that when Dick got to this point, he couldn’t hold in any longer but asked him point blank where it was that he had buried the treasure chest.
“‘We didn’t bury it,’ Dick answered. ‘We hid it in–’
“Just then the skipper called Tom and he had to leave Dick, but promised to come back as soon as he could.
“But one duty after another kept him busy, and he wasn’t able to go back to Dick for some time. Then he found that a great change had taken place. Dick’s fever had gone down, he had a little appetite, and it was clear that he was on the mend. Perhaps the relieving of his conscience by telling of the crime had helped him get better.
“However that might have been, he was a very different Dick from the night before. His mouth was shut as tight as an oyster, and Tom couldn’t get another word out of him. When he reminded him that he hadn’t finished his confession of the night before, Dick stared at him coldly and asked him what confession he was talking about. Tom told him, and Dick said that was the first he had heard of anything of the kind. Said he must have been out of his mind, if he’d gotten off any nonsense like that. And he gave Tom a hint that it wouldn’t be healthy for him, if he spread the report among the rest of the crew.
“He didn’t need to do that, for Tom had no idea of talking. He knew that if he did, it would be a very easy thing for one of the half dozen confederates to knock him senseless and heave him overboard some dark night. So he kept a quiet tongue in his head, and neither he nor Dick ever referred to the matter again as long as Tom was on board.
“As luck would have it, they soon after fell in with another ship of the same line that was on its way back home. Some of her crew had been swept overboard in a cyclone, and she was short-handed. Her skipper asked the captain of Tom’s craft to let him have a couple of men and he consented. Tom and one other sailor volunteered, and they were transferred to the other ship. It was a lucky thing for Tom, because his old ship went down in a hurricane off Cape Horn and every soul on board was lost.”
“Is that certain?” asked Bill.
“As certain as those things can ever be,” was the answer. “That was as much as eight years ago, and not a single man of her crew has ever turned up anywhere. If any one of them had been picked up by another ship, the matter would have been reported as soon as the ship reached port. Of course, there’s a bare chance that some of them might have reached a desert island and still be alive. But that’s so unlikely that it might as well be put out of mind.”
“What’s become of Tom Bixby?” asked Teddy.
“He shipped on a Canadian sealer soon after he was here, and I haven’t seen or heard of him since.”
“Is there any chance that he might have gone on a still hunt for the treasure?”
“Not Tom,” laughed Mr. Lee. “He didn’t have enough to go on. But he certainly was sore at the skipper for having called him away from Dick just when he did. Another minute–yes, another ten seconds–and Dick would have blurted out just where the treasure was hidden.”
“It must have been fearfully exasperating to come so near finding out and yet just to miss it,” remarked Bill.
“It is a lucky thing for Ross that he didn’t find out,” interjected Fred. “Tom didn’t know who the rightful owner was, and if he’d found it he would have kept the gold.”
“I’m afraid that he wouldn’t have tried to find out very hard,” laughed their host. “Sailor men have peculiar ideas about hidden treasure. The general rule they go by is that ‘findings is keepings.’”
“I guess there are a good many besides sailors who would go by the same rule,” said Teddy.
“Human nature is much the same, no matter what a man’s calling is,” assented Mr. Lee. “But you lads have kept me talking a long while, and I’ve got to look after my work. I’ve given you all I know about the Montgomery case, and it’s up to you now to put your heads together and make the most of it.”
