CHAPTER XX.
CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG--CONTINUED.
Up to this Melhuish had been making good weather of his tale, thoughforced to break off once or twice by reason of his weakness.But here he came to a dead stop, which at first I set down to thesame. But by-and-by I looks up. He was making a curious noise inhis throat, and fencing with both hands to push something away fromhim.
"I never done it!" he broke out. "Take them away! I never done it!Oh, my God! never--never--never!"
With that he ran off into a string of prayers and cursings, all mixedup together, the fever shaking him like a sail caught head-to-wind,and at every shake he screeched louder.
"I won't, I won't!" he kept saying. "Hayling, take that devil offand cover them up. The boat, Hayling! Fetch the boat and cover themup!" Then, a little after: "Who says the anchor's fouled? How can Itell for the noise? Tell them, less noise below. I never done it,tell them! And take his grinning face out of the way, or you'llnever get it clear! 'Tisn't Christian burial--look at their fins!D--n them, Hayling, look at their fins! Three feet of sand, orthey'll never stay covered. Who says as I poisoned them?Hayling knows. Where is Hayling?"
I am writing down all I can remember; but there was more--a heap ofit--that I did not catch, being kept busy holding him down till thestrength went out of him and he lay quiet; which he did in time, theshivers running down through him between my hands, and his voicemuttering on without a stop.
For an hour I sat, hoping he would fall asleep; for his voiceweakened little by little, and by-and-by he just lay and stared up atthe roof, with only his lips moving. After that I must have droppedoff in a doze; for I came to myself with a start, thinking that Iheard him speak to me. It was the rattle in his throat. He lay justthe same, with his eyes staring, but, putting out a hand to him, Iknew at once that the man was dead as a nail.
I had now to think of myself, for I knew that the niggers in thekraal had not spared me out of kindness, but only that I might attendto the white man, who was their friend. They were even ignorantenough to believe that I had killed him. I worked out my plan: (1) Imust run for it; (2) the village was asleep, and the sooner I ran thebetter; (3) they had met me heading for Cape Corse Castle, and wouldhunt me in that direction--therefore I had best go straight back onmy steps; (4) they were less likely to chase me that way because itled into the Popo country, and Melhuish had told me that these menwere Alampas, and afraid of the Popo tribes. True, if I headed back,there was the river between me and Whydah, the nearest station toeastward; but to get across it I must trust to luck.
I crept out of the hut. The night was black as my hat, almost, andno guard set. At the edge of the kraal I made a dash for it, andkept running for three miles. After that I ran sometimes, andsometimes walked. The sun was up and the day growing hot when I cameto the shore by the river; and there in the offing lay the _MaryPynsent_ at anchor, just as if nothing had happened, and the boatmade fast alongside as I had left her. If I could swim out and getinto the boat, my job was done. I had not thought upon sharks whileswimming ashore, but now I thought of them, and it gave me thecreeps. I dare say I sat on the shore for an hour, staring at theboat before I made up my mind to risk it. There was a plenty ofsharks, too. When I reached the boat and climbed aboard of her, Itook a look around and saw their fins playing about in the shallows,being drawn off there by the dead bodies the gunpowder had blown intothe water.
The boat had a mast and spritsail. I reckoned that I would waituntil sunset, then hoist sail and hold on past the river and alongshore towards Whydah. I counted on a breeze coming off shore towardsevening, which it did, and blew all night, so stiff that at twomiles' distance, which I kept by guess, I could smell the stink ofswamps. I ought to say here that, before starting, I had climbedaboard the _Mary Pynsent_ and provisioned the boat. The niggers hadleft a few stores, but the mess on board made me sick.
The breeze held all night, and towards daybreak freshened so that Ireckoned myself safe against any canoe overtaking me if any shouldput out from shore; for my boat, with the wind on her quarter, wasmaking from six to seven knots. She measured seventeen feet.
The breeze dried up as the day grew hotter, and in the end I downedsail and rowed the last few miles. I know Whydah pretty well, havinghad dealings there. It is a fine place, with orange-trees growingwild and great green meadows, and rivers chock full of fish, and thewhole of it full of fever as an egg is of meat. The factory therewas kept by an old man, an Englishman, who pretended to be Dutch andcalled himself Klootz, but was known to all as Bristol Pete.The building stood on a rise at the back of the swamps. It had averandah in front, with a tier of guns which he loaded and fired offon King George's birthday, and in the rear a hell of a barracks,where he kept the slaves, ready for dealing. He was turned sixty andgrown careless in his talk, and he lived there with nine wives andten strapping daughters. Sons did not thrive with him, somehow.In the matter of men he was short-handed, his habit being to enticeseamen off the ships trading there to take service with him on thepromise of marrying them up to his daughters. It looked like a goodspeculation, for the old man had money. But every one of the womenwas a widow, and the most of them widowed two deep. The climatenever agreed with the poor fellows, and just now he had over fourhundred slaves in barracks, and only one son-in-law, an Englishman,to look after them.
The old man made me welcome. A father couldn't have shown himselfkinder, and when I told him about the _Mary Pynsent_ he could scarcecontain himself.
"If there's one thing more than another I enjoy at my age," said he,"'tis a salvage job."
And he actually left the agent--A. G.--in charge of the slaves forthree days, while he and I and three of the women took boat and wentafter the vessel. We found her still at her moorings, and broughther round to Whydah, he and me working her with the youngest of thethree (Sarah by name), while the two others cleaned ship. I cannotsay why exactly, but this woman appeared superior to her sisters,besides being the best looking. The old man--he had an eye liftingfor everything--took notice of this almost before I knew it myself,and put it to me that I couldn't do better than to marry her.The woman, being asked, was willing. She had lost two husbandsalready, she told me, but the third time was luck. Her father readthe service over us, out of a Testament he always carried in hispocket. As for me, since my poor wife's death I had thoroughly givenmyself over to the devil, and did not care. Old Klootz wasfirst-rate company, too; though living in that forsaken place heseemed to be a dictionary about every ship that had sailed the seasfor forty years past, and to know every scandal about her.He listened, too, though he seemed to be talking in his full-heartedway all the time. And the end was that I told him about Melhuish,and showed him the map.
He had heard about Melhuish, as about everything else; but the mapdid truly--I think--surprise him. We studied it together, and hewound up by saying--
"There's a clever fellow somewhere at the bottom of this, and Ishould like to make his acquaintance."
Said I: "Then you believe there is such a treasure hidden?"
"Lord love you," said he, "I know all about that! It happened in theyear '86 at Puerto Bello. A Spaniard, Bartholomew Diaz, that hadbeen flogged for some trouble in the mines, stirred up a revolt amongthe niggers and half-breeds, and came marching down upon the coastat the head of fourteen thousand or fifteen thousand men, sacking theconvents and looting the mines on his way. He gave himself out to besome sort of religious prophet, and this brought the blacks likeflies round a honey-pot. The news of it caught Puerto Bello at amoment when there was not a single Royal ship in the harbour.The Governor lost his head and the priests likewise. Getting wordthat Diaz was marching straight on the place, and not five leaguesdistant, they fell to emptying the banks in a panic, stripping thechurches, and fetching up treasure from the vaults of the religioushouses. There happened to be a schooner lying in the harbour--the_Rosaway_, built at Marblehead--lately taken by the Spaniards offCampeachy, wit
h her crew, that were under lock and key ashore,waiting trial for cutting logwood without licence. The priestscommandeered this Vessel and piled her up with gold, the Governorsending down a guard of soldiers to protect it; but in the middleof the night, on an alarm that Diaz had come within a mile of thegates, the dunderhead drew off half of this guard to strengthen thegarrison. On their way back to the citadel these soldiers were metand passed in the dark by the _Rosaway's_ crew, that had managed tobreak prison, and in the confusion had somehow picked up thepassword. Sparke was the name of _Rosaway's_ skipper, a Marbleheadman; the mate, Griffiths, came from somewhere in Wales; the rest,five in number, being likewise mixed English and Americans.They picked up a shore-boat down by the harbour, rowed off to theship, got on board by means of the password, and within twentyminutes had knocked all the Spaniards on the head, themselves losingonly one man. Thereupon, of course, they slipped cable and stood outto sea. Next morning the _Rosaway_ hadn't been three hours out ofsight before two Spanish gun-ships came sailing in from Cartagena,having been sent over in a hurry to protect the place; and one ofthem started in chase. The _Rosaway_, being speedy, got away for thetime, and it was not till three weeks later that the Spaniards randown on her, snug and tight at anchor in a creek of this same islandof Mortallone. She was empty as a drum, and her crew ashore in apretty state of fever and mutiny. The Spaniards landed and took thelot, all but the mate Griffiths, that was supposed to have beenknifed by Sparke, but two of the prisoners declared that he was aliveand hiding. They hanged four, saving only Sparke, keeping him toshow where the treasure was hidden. He led them halfway across theisland, lured them into a swamp, and made a bolt to escape, and thetale is he was getting clear off when one of the Spanish seamen letfly with his musket into the bushes and bowled him over like arabbit. It was a chance shot, and of course it put an end to allhope of finding the treasure. They ransacked the island for a weekor more, but found never a dollar; and before giving it up someinclined to believe what one of the prisoners had said, that thetreasure had never been buried in Mortallone at all, but in theisland of Roatan, some leagues to the eastward. But, if you ask myopinion, the stranger that took lodgings with Melhuish was the mateGriffiths, and no other. There has always been rumours that he gotaway with the secret. Know about it?" said old Klootz. "Why, therewas even a song made up about it--
"'O, we threw the bodies over, and forth we did stand Till the tenth day we sighted what seemed a pleasant land, And alongst the Kays of Mortallone!'"
From the first the old man had no doubt but we had struck the secret.All the way home he was scheming, and the very night we reachedWhydah again he came out with a plan.
"Have you ever read your Bible?" said he.
"A little," I said, "between whiles; but latterly not much."
"The more shame to you," said he, "for it is a good book. But youought to have heard of Noah, if you ever read the Book at all, for hecomes almost at the beginning. Well, I've a notion almost as good asNoah's and not so very different. We will take the _Mary Pynsent_and put all the family on board, for we must take A. G. (naming theEnglishman, his other son-in-law), and I don't like to leave thewomen alone, here in this wicked place. We will pack her up withslaves and sail her across to Barbadoes. 'Tis an undertaking for aman of my years, but a man is not old until he feels old; and I havebeen wanting for a long time to see if trade in the Barbadoes is sobad as the skippers pretend, cutting down my profits. At Barbadoeswe can hire a pinnace. Daniel Coffin, you and me will go into thisbusiness in partnership," says he.
The old fellow, once set going, had the pluck of a boy. The verynext night he called in A. G., and took him into the secret, in hisbluff way overriding me, that was for keeping it close between ustwo. That the map was mine did not trouble him. He agreed that Ishould be guardian of it, but took charge of all the outfit, orderingme about sometimes like a dog, though, properly speaking, the vesselherself belonged to me--or, at any rate, more to me than to him.As for A. G., he didn't count. We filled up and weighed anchor onAugust 12, having on board 420 blacks--290 men and 130 women--allchained, and all held under by us twenty-two whites, of the whichnineteen were women. The weather turned sulky almost from the start,and after ten days of drifting, with here and there a fluke of wind,we found ourselves off the Gaboon river. From this we crept our wayto the Island of St. Thomas, three days; watered there, and fetcheddown to the south-east trades. The niggers were dying fast, andbetween the south-east and north-east trades, six weeks from ourstarting, we lost between one and two score every day. I will saythat all the women worked like horses. We reached Barbadoes short ofour complement by 134 negroes and one of Klootz's wives. This lastdid not trouble him much.
He kept mighty cheerful all the way, although the speculation up tonow had turned out far from cheerful; and all the way he kept singingscraps about the Kays of Mortallone in a way to turn even a healthyman sick. I had patched up a kind of friendship with A.G., and weallowed that, for all his heartiness, the old man was enough tomadden a saint. The slaves we landed fetched about nineteen poundson an average. They cost at starting from two pounds to threepounds; but the ones that had died at sea knocked a hole in theprofits.
At Barbadoes Klootz left the womenfolk in a kind of boarding-house,and hired a pinnace, twenty tons, to take us across to the main,pretending he wanted to inquire into the market there. Klootz and Imade the whole crew, with A. G., who could not navigate. January 17,late in the afternoon, we ran down upon Mortallone Island andanchored off the Kays, north of Gable Point. Next morning we outwith the boat and landed. Time, about three-quarters of an hourshort of low water.
The Kays are nothing but sand. At low water, and for an hour beforeand after, you can cross to Gable point dry-shod. We spent that daygetting bearings; dug a little, but nothing to reward us. Next daywe got to work early. Had been digging for two hours, when we turnedup the first body. It turned A. G. poorly in the stomach, and he satdown to watch us. Half an hour later we struck the first of thechests. It did not hold more than five shillings' worth, and we sawthat somebody had been there before us.
The third day we turned up three more bodies, besides two chests,empty as before, and a full one. We stove it in, emptied the stuffinto the boat, and made our way back to the ship.
The fourth day we had scarcely started to dig before Klootz struck ona second chest that sounded like another full one--
Here Miss Belcher turned a page, glanced overleaf, and came to a fullstop.
"For pity's sake, Lydia--" protested Mr. Rogers, who sat leaningforward, his elbows on the table.
"There's no more," Miss Belcher announced.
"No more?"
"Not a word." She fumbled quickly through the remaining blankleaves. "Not a word more," she repeated.
"Death cut short his hand," said Captain Branscome, his voicebreaking in upon a long silence.
"Cut short his fiddlestick-end!" snapped Miss Belcher. "The manfunked it at the last moment--started out promising to tell the wholetruth, but refused the fence. Look back at the story, and you cansee him losing heart. Just note that when he comes to A. G.--that'sthe man Aaron Glass, I suppose--he dares not write down the man'sname. There has been foul work, and he's afraid of it. That's asplain as the nose on my face."
"But what's to be done?" asked Mr. Rogers, picking up the manuscriptand turning its pages irritably.
"Dear me," said a voice, "there is surely but one thing to be done!We must go and search for ourselves."
We all turned and stared at Plinny.