CHAPTER XXV FATHER SUPERIOR TAKES A HAND
The paper taken from the _Little Black Tramp_, as Florence had named thederelict, proved a disappointment. Though there was still some suggestionof writing remaining on its surface after it was dry, not one word couldbe read. Only those four words, brighter than ever, stood out clear andstrong, "A BARREL OF GOLD."
Without the sprightly Jeanne about, the wreck seemed a lonely place."What do you say we row back to the camping ground and dig for treasure?"Florence suggested after their midday siesta. "We can stay all night ifthe wind blows up."
"Dig for treasure? Florence, you're still thinking of that barrel ofgold!" Greta exclaimed. "You'll not find it there. It's on this old ship.You wait and see!"
Greta was glad enough to go. She hoped, for one thing, that she mightcatch again the tuneful notes of that phantom violin. "Shall I everknow?" she asked herself. "Why does he hide away there on GreenstoneRidge? Percy O'Hara," she whispered. She closed her eyes to see againthat tangled mass of gray hair, those frank, smiling young eyes. "PercyO'Hara. How much good he could be doing! How he can charm the world'scares away! And how this poor old world needs that these days!
"And he could help those who are struggling up. He could teach--" shedared not continue, dared not hope that sometime, somewhere, thismatchless musician might take her bow gently from her hand as he saidwith that marvelous smile, "No, my child. Not that way. See! Listen!"
"If only it might be!" she sighed. Yes, she wanted to go ashore, longedto climb all the way up Greenstone Ridge. But this last she was resolvednever to do. "He said he would come," she whispered. "He will not fail."
At ten that night Greta slept soundly beneath the tent on the campinggrounds. Having listened in vain for the faintest tremor of music on theair, she had surrendered at last to the call of dreamland.
Florence, too, was beneath the blankets, but she did not sleep. Thestrange discovery of that day was still on her mind. "Barrel of gold,"she repeated more than once.
Her treasure hunt that afternoon had been singularly unsuccessful. Shehad not found so much as a flint arrowhead or a copper penny.
"Big piece of nonsense!" she told herself. "And yet--"
A half hour later, having dragged on shoes, knickers, and sweater, shewas digging once more on the camping ground, digging for gold. Such arethe strange, unfathomable ways of youth.
She had stirred up their campfire and was digging with the aid of itslight. As she labored her sturdy figure cast odd, fantastic shadows onthe dark forest at her back.
* * * * * * * *
At the same hour Jeanne returned to the wreck. She came with her gypsyfriends on the _Ship of Joy_. For once in his life Bihari was in a greatrush. His journey round the island had been completed. There was in theair some deep prophecy of storm. Being one of those who live their livesbeneath the blue dome of heaven, he felt rather than saw this.
"They are here!" Jeanne cried in great joy as they neared the wreck ofthe old _Pilgrim_. "Florence and Greta are here!"
"But there is no light," someone protested.
"They are dreaming in some corner of the ship, or perhaps they areasleep," Jeanne insisted. "They _must_ be here, for--see! There is theirboat. We have but one boat. They could not well be away."
Climbing to the deck, the little French girl bade her gypsy friends afond farewell, then from her favorite spot on the deck watched the lightsof Bihari's boat grow dim in the distance. Then she set about the task offinding her friends. This, as you know well enough, was to be a hardtask. They were not there.
The explanation is simple enough. Having tried out the _Little BlackTramp_ and found it easy to row, Florence had chosen to go ashore in itand to leave her own boat tied up to the wreck. So here it was and herewas the little French girl alone on the _Pilgrim_. It was night, and shehad not forgotten Bihari's warning: "There comes a great storm."
* * * * * * * *
On the camping ground, lighted by the campfire's flickering glow,Florence dug steadily on. "Not that I expect to find anything," she toldherself. "I'm just wearing down my mental resistance to sleep. Prettysoon I'll drop this old spade and creep beneath the blankets. I'll--"
She broke short off. Strange sounds were reaching her ears; at least theywere strange for this place. Music, the tones of a violin, came to her.Clear and distinct they were.
"Can't be far," she told herself. She thought of Percy O'Hara, the"Phantom."
"Air's strange tonight," she told herself.
"Perhaps he's still away up there. Sound carries a long way at times."
Once again her spade cut deep in the sand. But now her heart skipped abeat. She had struck some solid object.
"Only a rock or a log buried by a storm centuries ago," she told herself."And yet--" she was digging fiercely now. Like a dog close to a groundsquirrel's nest, she made the dirt fly.
The thing she had found was not a rock. "Not hard enough for that," shetold herself. "A log? Well, perhaps. But it--it's--"
She ceased digging. Seizing a firebrand, she fanned it into flame, thenheld it low in the hole she had dug. Next instant she was all but bowledover with astonishment.
"It _is_ a barrel!" she breathed. "Or, at least a keg. And it has heavycopper hoops. It--"
But at this instant a light shone full upon her face. It was there foronly an instant, but long enough to give her warning. Seizing her spade,she had half filled the hole when a small boat came around the point.
* * * * * * * *
At that hour too there were strange doings on the wreck. The mysteriousblack schooner had returned. Only chance had prevented the men on theschooner from seeing the light that shone from Jeanne's cabin, to whichshe had retired in uneasy solitude. They approached the wreck from theother side.
The first suggestion of their presence came to Jeanne as a slight bumpran through the stout old hull.
"A--a boat!" she breathed. Instantly her light was out. A moment had notelapsed before, wrapped in a long dark coat, she crept out on the deck.
Once outside, she stood there, silent, intent, ready to flee, listening.
"Chains," she whispered at last, "I hear them. That's what they had onthat black schooner that other night. They mean to lift something withchains. I'll creep along the deck to that box where life preservers werekept. Have a look at these men from there. They won't see me. I'll be inthe shadows."
She crept along in the deep shadows.
"Here--here's the place." She drew up behind a large box painted white.
After a brief rest to quiet the wild beating of her heart, she creptforward.
"There!" she whispered. "I can see them plainly from here. There's theman in the diving rig again. He is just going over the side. Taking achain with him. I can hear it rattle. Chain's fast to a light cable.They're going to try lifting something from below, that's certain."
The diver disappeared beneath black waters. Two other men stood atattention. The girl held her breath and waited. She tried to picture toherself the inside of the ship beneath the water.
"Cabins where people have slept. Fishes swimming there and big oldcrawfish crawling over the berths. Deck slippery with slime, and the holdwhere all the freight was stored dark as a dungeon. You'd think--"
She did not finish. From the distance had come a strange sound. A rushingas of a mighty wind. "But there's no wind!"
The sound increased in volume until it was like the roar of a storm.Then, of a sudden, a great swell struck the ship. It set the old wreckshuddering from stem to stern. It picked up the black schooner and,tossing it high, landed it half upon the dry deck of the ship and halfupon the water. It keeled over on one side, reeled like a drunken man,seemed about to turn square over, then sliding off the deck, went glidingaway.
"But the diver?" Once again the girl held her breath.
After what seemed a very long time,
a dark spot appeared off to theright. The power boat glided over. The dark spot was taken on board.
Next moment a second swell shook the ship. When this wave had subsidedthe power boat was nowhere to be seen.
"Good old Father Superior," the little French girl exclaimed. "He took ahand!
"Will they return?" she asked herself. She found no answer. A glance awayto the left caused her to shudder. Like an army of black demons, cloudswere massed low against the sky. A faint flash of light painted them alurid hue. This was repeated three times. Then all was darker thanbefore.