CHAPTER V
A SETBACK
"I wouldn't bank on finding treasure," Grimshaw advised. "What thoseold pirates got they spent as they went along. They warn't of thesaving kind. 'Easy come, easy go' was their motto."
"That's true enough of the majority of them, no doubt," conceded Drew."The common sailors got only a small portion of the loot anyway. Butsome of the leaders were shrewd and far-sighted men. They didn't lookforward to dying as pirates. They wanted to save enough to buy theirpardons later on and live the rest of their lives ashore in peace andluxury. What was more natural than that they should hide their sharesof the plunder on some of the little islands they were familiar with?They wouldn't dare to keep it on their ships, where their throats mightbe cut at any moment if their crews knew there was treasure aboard."
"That's true enough," admitted his employer.
"And if they did bury it," pursued the young man, encouraged by thisconcession, "why shouldn't a good deal of it be there yet? Gold andsilver and jewels don't perish from being kept underground. And asmost of the pirates died in battle, they had no chance to go back anddig the plunder up from where they had buried it."
"But some of the crews must have been in the secret," objected Tyke,"an' after the death of their captains what was to hinder them fromgoing after the doubloons an' getting 'em."
"There might have been a good many reasons," answered Drew. "In thefirst place, the captains seem to have had a cheerful little habit ofkilling the men who did the digging and leaving their skeletons toguard the treasure-chests. And even when that didn't happen, whatchance would the common sailor have had of going after the loot? Hecouldn't have got a ship without giving away his secret, and the minutehe'd given it away his own life wouldn't have been worth a copper cent.
"And then, too," went on Drew, warming to his subject, "look at all thetraditions there are on the subject. Where there is so much smokethere must be some fire. A single rumor wouldn't amount to much, butwhen that rumor persists and is multiplied by a thousand others untilit becomes a settled belief, there must be something in it. The rumorsare like so many spokes of a wheel all pointing to a single hub, andthat hub is--treasure!"
"I declare! you're getting all het up about it," grinned Tyke, as Drewpaused for breath. "But all the same, my boy, you want to get back toearth. You've got as good a chance of finding hidden treasure as Ihave of taking first prize in a beauty show."
"What's the matter with taking a look in Manuel's box and finding outwhat it was he was so anxious about?" questioned Drew, a little dashedby Tyke's skepticism.
"Well, perhaps we shall some time later on," conceded Tyke, somewhatdoubtfully. "We can't think of doing it until we git moved an'settled. We've got enough on hand now to keep us as busy as ants for agood many days to come."
Drew was disappointed, but as his employer had spoken there was nothingmore to be said, and he regretfully followed Grimshaw to the groundfloor.
The chronicle of his life for the rest of that day and the twofollowing could be summed up in the one word, work--hard, breathless,unceasing work. A reminder had come from Blake that the moving must beexpedited, and from Tyke himself down to Sam no one was exempt.
Not that the thought of Ruth Adams was ever for long out of Drew'smind. But the colors had grown more sombre in his rainbow of hope. Hehad snatched a few moments from his noon hour on the second day to runover to the _Normandy_, and although this time he saw Captain Peters,it was only to learn that he could expect no help from that quarter.
The captain was curt and irritable after his prolonged drinking bout,and answered chiefly in monosyllables. No, he had not seen any younggirl come aboard two days before. Did not know of any one who had.
"Now you git out," snarled Peters in conclusion. "You'll git noinformation here. Make no mistake about that!"
Drew was startled by the change in Captain Peters' manner and look.The skipper glared at him as though Drew were a strange dog trying toget the other's bone. The young man's temper was instantly rasped; butPeters was a considerably older man than he, and he seemed to belaboring under some misapprehension.
"I assure you, Captain Peters," Drew said, "my reasons for asking wereperfectly honorable."
"You needn't assure me of anything. Just git out!" roared the skipperof the _Normandy_; and, seeing that there was nothing but a fight inprospect if he remained, the young man withdrew. On deck he saw thesecond officer, and that person winked at him knowingly and followedhim to the plank.
"Old man on the rampage?" he asked.
"Seems to be," said the confused Drew.
"Chance was, that that Bug-eye you knocked out the other day is apertic'lar friend of the skipper's. But gosh! you're some boy withyour mits."
Drew might again have tried to find out from this fellow about thegirl, but he shrank from making her the subject of any general inquiryor discussion. To him she was something to be kept sacred. His heartwas a shrine with her as its image, and before that image he burnedimaginary tapers with the fervor of a devotee.
One thought came to him with a suddenness that made him quake. Couldit be that she was already married?
He tried to remember whether "Mrs." or "Miss" had preceded the name onthe letter. For the life of him he could not recall. He had soutterly assumed that she was unmarried, on the occasion of theirmeeting, that any thought to the contrary had not even occurred to himthen. He was somewhat comforted by the probability that, had she beenmarried, her husband's name or initials would have followed the "Mrs."instead of her given name. Yet, this was a custom that was becoming asmuch honored in the breach as in the observance, and the use of her owngiven name would not be at all conclusive.
Then, with a great wave of relief, the memory came to him that he hadplaced the letters in her left hand and had noted that she had no ringson that hand at all. The thought had come to him at the time that noornament could make those tapered fingers prettier than they were.
His heart leaped with elation. She was unmarried then! She wore nowedding ring!
There was still greater cause for jubilation. She wore no ring of anykind! She was not even engaged!
She probably was somewhere in this teeming city. Many times theirpaths might almost cross, perhaps had already almost crossed since thatfirst meeting on the pier.
Fantastic musings took possession of him. Who was it that, in a burstof hyperbole, said that if one took up his station at Broadway andThirty-fourth Street, he would, if he stayed there long enough, seeeverybody in the world go past? Or was it Kipling who said that ofPort Said?
Where should he take his stand? What places should he frequent withthe greatest likelihood of meeting her? Theatres, the opera, artgalleries, railway stations, Central Park?
He recalled himself from these fantasies with a wrench. How foolishand fruitless they were! He was no man of leisure, to do as hepleased. He was bound as securely to his desk as the genie was to thelamp of Aladdin, and he must answer its call just as unfailingly.
So, alternately wretched and elated, tasting the torments as well asthe joys of this experience that had revolutionized his life, he toredesperately into his work, but with the girl's face ever before him.
On the third day after Tyke had received notice to move, thepreparations were far advanced. Delicate instruments had beencarefully wrapped; heavier objects had been clothed with burlap;truckmen were notified to be ready on the following day. Tyke and Drewhad made frequent pilgrimages to the new place and had arranged wherethe stock could be placed to the best advantage. New bills andletterheads had been ordered from the printers, and even the old signover the door, which Tyke obstinately refused to leave behind, had beentaken down to have the old number painted out and the new onesubstituted.
There was no elevator in the old building. Drew had often urgedGrimshaw to have one installed, but the old man was dead set againstany such "new-fangled contraptions." So, everything from the upperlofts, when it
was called for, had to be carried or rolled down therickety stairs, a proceeding which often roused rumbles of rebellion inthe breast of Sam, upon whom fell the brunt of the heavy work.
He had spent most of that afternoon in getting down the boxes from thethird floor so that they might be within easier reach of the truckmenwhen the moving should begin. He was on his way down with one of them,perspiring profusely and tired from the work that had gone before,when, as he neared the lowest step, he slipped and dropped his burden.
He was fortunate enough to scramble out of the way of the box and thusescape injury. But the box itself came to the floor with a crash, andsplit open.
Drew and Winters sprang to the help of the porter, and were relieved tofind that he was not hurt. He rose to his feet, his black face apicture of consternation.
"Dat ole mis'ry in ma back done cotched me jes' when Ah got to de las'step," he explained. "Ah hope dey ain't much damage done to dat 'erbox."
"Pretty badly done up, it seems to me," remarked Winters, as hesurveyed the broken chest critically.
"Never mind, Sam," consoled Drew. "It wasn't your fault and the oldbox wasn't of much account anyway."
Just then Tyke thrust his head out of his office to learn the meaningof the crash. At the sight of the broken box he came into the shop.
"How did this happen?" he asked.
"Ah couldn't help it, Mistah Grimshaw," said Sam ruefully. "Ma backjes' nacherly give way, an' Ah had to let go. Ah'm pow'ful sorry, sah."
Sam was a favorite with the old man, who refrained from scolding himbut stood a moment looking curiously at the box.
"Carry it into the office," he said at last to Sam. "And you, Allen,come along."