Our first thought was for the Minion. Although the magnificence of this grand fortune dazzled us, we saw that the lad was like to die from the amount of his potations, and felt him to be our first care. We carried him to the outer air, and down the hill we went, quite to the beach and close to the stream which issued from the archway in the rock. Here we bathed his head and face with cold water. Then we laid him in the shade, where the gentle breeze blew not too strongly upon him. His face was crimson, his body like a bed of coals, and I truly feared for his life. The Bo's'n tore off his one remaining sleeve and drenched it with the cold water. This he laid upon the boy's forehead. He went often to him during the hours that he slept and continued this kind office, and perhaps it is to the Bo's'n that the Minion owes his life, and possibly the rest of us, arguing from cause to effect. There was no sail in sight, no creature or thing. The sweet breezes were laden with the spicy odours of that magic land, and they fell soft as a lady's fingers upon the rough skin of our weather-beaten faces.

We now returned to the cave to gather up the jewels. When we came again to the place where we had disrobed the Minion, we could hardly believe the evidence of our eyes. The mass of wealth was too overwhelming in its quantity, its variety, and its value for us to feel that the stones could be real or of great price. But close scrutiny forced me to believe that they were what we had at first thought, and I hastened to urge upon the Bo's'n the necessity of secreting them at once. There were several reasons for this. In the first place, the buccaneers might return, and then we, instead of Mauresco, should be their agents. In the next place, I had no intention that Captain Schuyler or Lacelle, or even Cynthia, should know of the presence of the jewels in the cave. The Skipper loved to talk, and there were times when his tongue was more loosened than at others. Furthermore, there was no knowing whom we might run across in this spot. No surmising what unwelcome guest was at present journeying to meet us, unknown to himself or to us, led on by that fate which rules the destinies of us all. I determined at once that this fortune, of which I could make no estimate, should be shared eventually by all alike. It would make us rich beyond what had ever been dreamed of the Belleville copper mines. The secret was not my own; the Bo's'n shared it. But a secret has no right to its name when it is shared by more than one person. I felt that I could trust the Bo's'n. He would not, I knew, forget his promise to me, or, leaving that out of the question, his real personal interest in this great source of wealth. I had sometimes been known to talk in my sleep. I was nervous and irritable since my horrid experience in the cavern, and felt that it would be well for me to try to forget the fact of the existence of the jewels for the present, and act as if the discovery were the Bo's'n's own.

We stood by the table, picking up and turning over the various wonderful pieces studded with gems of all colours, shades, and degrees of brilliancy.

"These must be what the pirates were searching for, Mr. Jones, sir," said the Bo's'n.

"Yes," said I in answer. "Evidently Mauresco alone possessed the secret. That, after all, is the only way to have, or rather keep, a secret. I wonder now where we can stow these away until we can come for them in safety?"

"What is your plan, sir, Mr. Jones?" asked the Bo's'n.

"Well, Bo's'n," said I, "I feel this way about these things. As whatever one of us suffers, the rest suffer, so whatever benefit one of us enjoys, all must share. If Captain Schuyler had found anything of value here, I should feel that you and I ought to share in it. Now we have found these jewels, and——"

"The Minion rather, sir, begging your pardon, sir."

"The Minion doesn't count," said I, "though, of course, he shall have as much as is good for him. There is an enormous fortune there——"

"Yes, sir," said the Bo's'n, with wandering gaze.

"What are you looking for, Bo's'n?"

"Only to see if there wasn't any more anywhere about, sir. It seems as if the boy might have forgotten some, or perhaps he didn't look——"

I laughed aloud.

"You avaricious old jacky!" said I. "Here is as much as would buy the Bank of England, and you are searching for more."

The Bo's'n looked down, abashed at my laughter.

"Don't mind my laughing, Bo's'n," said I kindly. "We are born that way, all of us. I have not enough in my pocket to buy myself a pair of shoes, yet I feel just as you do. That hill of riches seems to have grown small since we came back and looked at it again. Let's bury it out of sight before it vanishes altogether."

The Bo's'n stood gazing at the glittering mass. He shook his head. "How can we ever get it all to Belleville?" he asked.

"We can't get it there now, perhaps not for a long time," I answered. "Listen, Bo's'n. I want to talk quick before any one comes. When we get back home—it may be in a month from now, and it may be in a year—I want to fit out a vessel and come down and get this treasure and take it home. Never any more going to sea for us, Bo's'n, after that."

"No, sir, that's so, sir," returned the Bo's'n.

"We shall have plenty of guns and plenty of sails. By that time, perhaps, the revolutions about here will be over. In any case, we must bury this fortune so that if those wretches come here again they will not be able to find it. One of us had better hide them, and not tell the other; not tell any one until the time comes to——"

"I think I know a splendid place, sir, Mr. Jones, sir," said the Bo's'n eagerly.

"Very well, Bo's'n," said I.

"It is in——" The Bo's'n waited a moment and looked questioningly at me.

"Don't tell me, Bo's'n, now don't. At least for the present. You hide them and tell me later."

The Bo's'n bent over the mass and began to make separate piles of the different articles, putting those of a kind together.

"There's one thing I want to say right here, Bo's'n," said I. "When we do fit out that ship, Captain Schuyler is to command her. I shall not agree to anything else."

"That's right, sir," answered the Bo's'n. "I shall be glad to have him. And you'll take me along, sir? I mean on the expedition, Mr. Jones?"

"Certainly, Bo's'n. You are as much a part of it as I am myself. I'm sure you are much more a part of it, since I am letting you hide the jewels."

"What do you think of putting——" The Bo's'n waited again.

"Stop!" said I sharply. "I do not wish to know anything about them now."

"Suppose I take this watch to the Captain?" I suggested. I took from the pile a plain watch. I knew that the Skipper's had stopped since coming ashore. He had dropped it overboard, and, though he had recovered it, it was quite watersoaked.

"Certainly, sir; but why not take a finer one, Mr. Jones?"

"No, no," said I. "We don't want the Minion to suspect our having a hand in hiding the jewels. The watch must be the plainest that we can find, if it will only keep time, and as much like the Captain's as possible." The timepiece which I selected had no key. I found another with a simple chain attached, and to this chain was fastened a key. I wound the watch, and found that it started off at once as if it had never stopped at all.

"They must have taken this lately," said I.

"Would you like anything for yourself, sir?" asked the thoughtful Bo's'n.

"There is one gorgeous jewel, Bo's'n," said I, "that I should like very much to take. It equals a small fortune," I pointed to a great diamond which, whatever we did with the mass of brilliant things, was ever uppermost. I have since that time in our one trip across the ocean seen some of the court jewels of England and Germany, but I have never gazed upon anything to equal the size and brilliancy of that great globe of light.

"There is a fortune in that diamond," said I. "Did I say a small one? Well, I mean a large one. It would make us all rich."

"Would it, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

"Yes," said I. "What a pity we can't take that or any of them with us! But, of course, the only thing for us to do is to hide them until more quiet times. If we are captured, we shall be searched."

"You're right, Mr. Jones, sir," said the Bo's'n. "Perfectly right, as usual. We must hide them, as you say. I hope you won't forget me, sir, when you come to get them—on that expedition, I mean, Mr. Jones, sir."

"Forget you, my honest man!" exclaimed I, clapping the good soul on the back. "As soon forget my own mother. No, no, Bo's'n, share and share alike, as I told you before;" for I had determined that, humble as the Bo's'n was, He should derive as much benefit from the wonderful find as any of the rest of us.

I passed my hand over the mass of rings which the Bo's'n had been heaping together, rolling them about until I discovered the thing that I sought.

"I think I should like this, Bo's'n, if you say it's quite right." I held up to view a very little thread of gold, with a very small diamond caught in the top.

"It's a poor thing, sir, for a gentleman, and rather small for your finger, sir, begging your pardon, sir."

"No matter," said I. "It's all I want. Now you!"

"I what, sir?"

"You choose something, Bo's'n."

"Not now, sir. I will wait till we come to fetch 'em."

By this time we had the jewels wrapped in four different parcels, which seemed to be the Bo's'n's idea of arranging them. I let him have his way, for I saw that he had a definite idea of what to do with them, and I had puzzled my brains without finding any solution.

"I think this is the place where they were, sir," said the Bo's'n.

He led me back to a little passage which I had not noticed before, and by the light of the still burning lamp we saw a flat stone lying upon the ground, and beside it lay the tools which the Smith had left behind for my release.

"There may be many such places hereabouts. That Minion must have come here and peered and pried and poked about until he started the stone. Gad, sir, he must have been nonplussed!"

"Shall we put them there again, Bo's'n?" I asked.

"No, sir. There are lots of places. Hollow trees, places way up in the branches, deserted nests, real large mammoth ones. I might divide 'em, sir. Places down on the shore far enough from the stream, so that if the sea robbers do come back they won't have an idea of looking there. I should like to tell you, sir, when I have got them hid away——"

The Bo's'n had wound the last thread of the fine brocade which he had been cutting for strings round the fourth bundle.

"Now I'll go," said I, "and good luck to you in finding a hiding place, only don't forget where it is."

"I don't think I can forget, sir," said he. "I'll take a range, and I am sure not to forget."

"Promise me one thing, Bo's'n," said I. "I am a very curious man. I do not really want to know where those jewels are to be hidden, and I want to be able to swear on my conscience that I know nothing of them. Now promise me that, no matter how I try to worm your secret out of you, you will not tell me until we start for home. I should surely tell the Skipper, and if Miss Archer asked me——"

"Yes, sir, I understand, sir; couldn't refuse, sir; would be done for, sir. Very well, sir. I swear upon my honour that you shall not know anything about the hiding place until we are able to sail again, Mr. Jones, sir."

I went out of the cave rather reluctantly, I must confess.

"Go far away, please, sir," called the Bo's'n. "Please go and sit in the latticed cavern with your back to the front wall, where you can't see me, Mr. Jones, sir, in case I need to walk along the shore, sir. I don't mean to say that I do mean to walk along the shore, sir, and I don't mean to say that I don't mean to walk along the shore, sir. I say this only in case I do want to walk along the shore, sir. I must go along the shore, sir, in any case to see about the Minion, sir. I don't say I'm goin' to hide the jewels along the shore, sir, and I don't say I ain't a-goin' to hide the jewels on the shore, sir. I want to be perfectly truthful with——"

I laughed aloud.

"You ridiculous, honest old fool!" said I. "For Heaven's sake, don't talk so everlastingly. I know now just where you intend to go, but I won't look, I promise you, and then I can say frankly that I know nothing about their hiding place if the question ever comes up."

"You can, sir," said the Bo's'n, with conviction in his tones. "I wonder if the question will ever come up, Mr. Jones, sir?"

"I'll run now," said I, "for fear you'll tell me just which tree on the beach you mean to hide them in."

"Go quickly, sir," said the Bo's'n, with distress in his voice, "and for Heaven's sake don't allude to 'em again, or I shall tell, I know I shall."

"Perhaps you can't keep it from the others," said I anxiously.

"Don't have no fear of that, sir. You are the only person I am afraid of a-divulgin' to, Mr. Jones, sir."

I ran hurriedly from the cave, my promise to the Bo's'n being strong in my mind. As I was leaving the entrance, I came plump upon the Skipper. I congratulated myself upon our lucky escape, and drew the old man away and up that side of the hill.

"Cynthy's awake," were the Skipper's first words. "She's been askin' for you."

Asking for me!

"For me?" said I, finding my voice. "Tell that to a sea soldier, Captain."

"She has, honest Ingun," said the Skipper. "She woke up a while ago. I was sittin' by her, and she opened her eyes and she said—What do you think, Jones?"

"How can I tell," asked I, very red in the face. There was a buzzing in my ears. I waited an hour, it seemed to me, before the Skipper continued:

"She turned over and she opened her eyes."

"You said that before, Captain," urged I.

"Yes, yes, so I did. Let's see, where was I? Cynthy was asleep, you know, and I was sittin' by——"

"Please hurry a little faster, Captain," said I. "I have something very important to tell you, as the head of this expedition, you know, sir."

"Shesaidhiramwhathaveyougottotellme," rattled off the Skipper.

I thought for a moment, and, saying the words over slowly to myself, I concluded that the Skipper had volunteered the information that Cynthia had said "Hiram," and that he next had asked of me the question, "What have you got to tell me?"

I gasped with bliss, but I controlled my voice and drew the watch from my pocket.

"I found this," said I, "down there by the cave. I have noticed that yours doesn't go, and I thought perhaps you would like one that does."

"You're dreadful kind," said the Skipper in a pleased tone. He examined the watch, turning it over and round. "Where did you find it?" he asked.

"Why, I just picked it up," said I, which was literally true. And then remembering first that Cynthia had asked for me, and then that I had made a promise to the Bo's'n, I dashed into the passage, the Skipper following. When I reached the latticed chamber, I saw that young Trevelyan had changed his position enough to be lying on Cynthia's blanket, with his head on her pillow. He was very pale and coughed at times, which, however, did not seem to awaken him. Cynthia herself was seated upon a projecting rock, occupied in mending her Uncle's coat. The mortuary bag was gaping wide, and giving up, on demand, such necessaries as thread, needles, scissors, and the like.

"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Jones?" said Cynthia, nodding carelessly.

"What do you want of me?" asked I.

Cynthia looked up in innocent astonishment.

"I?" she said.

"Yes; I thought you asked for me."

"I asked for you? Oh, no! What made you think that?"

I did not reply, but seated myself flat upon the floor, with my back against the outer wall, as I had promised the Bo's'n that I would.

"How silly you look!" said Cynthia.

"I suppose I do," said I.

"What made you think I asked for you, Mr. Jones?"

"I don't think; I know."

"How?"

"Your Uncle told me so."

"Uncle! Uncle! How could you? I never——"

"Not when you was awake, Cynthy, girl. I know that. I didn't tell Jones here you knew it.—What do you want to fluster a girl so for, Jones?"

Cynthia was blushing furiously.

"How can you make me so ridiculous, Uncle?"

"I don't say you knew it, Cynthy." The Skipper spoke slowly and with emphasis. "I never said you knew what you said. All the same, I am not deef yet. I was sittin' by you, Cynthy, girl—you will acknowledge that, won't you? Well, you just turned your head with the sweetest, prettiest smile, and you said, so soft I could hardly hear you, 'Hiram'—just like that, 'Hi-ram.'"

"I have no doubt it was so soft you could not hear it.—I never—never said it in the world, Mr. Jones, never. I do not call Mr. Jones by his given name, such a name, such a name—I nev——"

The rest of this incoherent sentence was lost. Tears of shame filled her eyes and ran down her blushing cheeks. She dropped the coat, got up and went to the lattice, and looked out.

I sat, my head against the wall, lost in the most pleasurable feelings. If it was true, she did like me a little, after all.

There was no sound in the cave for some time but the gentle breathing of the young English lad. The Skipper broke the silence and changed the subject by saying, "Let's have a drink."

"Shan't we wait for the Bo's'n, Captain?" said I.

"Well, well, as you like," answered the Skipper, a little impatiently. "You know this, Jones: You're a short time living and a long time dead, and you'd better make all out of this life that you can."

I saw that Cynthia turned her tear-stained face my way, as if she endorsed this remark. But she withdrew her eyes at once when I returned her glance, and looked out to sea again. She stood gazing far out over the water. The morning was fresh and bright, a gentle wind rippled the surface of the wide bay. The tide was low.

"Uncle," she said, turning suddenly, "do you know that part of the Yankee is there still? A good bit of her stands up out of the water."

She handed the glass to the Skipper, ignoring me by even so much as a glance. The old man put the glass to his eye.

"You're right, Cynthy, girl, you're right; you're perfectly right in what you say. She does stand up, a good deal of her. Gad, how I should like to tread her deck again!"

I looked at the Skipper pityingly. Poor old man! So little left in life, while I felt that mine was just beginning. As the Skipper maundered along about the bark, and what good times he had had in her, and how she and they were gone forever, Cynthia crossed the cave to where I still sat, wondering when the Bo's'n would have finished his task on the shore.

"You mustn't mind what Uncle says," said she.

"Mind it!" I broke in. "I like——"

"Hush, Mr. Jones! No compliments, please. He has aged wonderfully, poor dear, since the Yankee blew up. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to please him. I won't contradict him again. I ought not to have then—I'll try not to mind——"

Her face was pink, her eyes downcast.

"Gad! where is that Bo's'n? I'd like my nip now. Oh, there he is!—Come, come, Bo's'n, I want my toddy! I was just telling Jones here that we're a short time living and——"

I arose from my seat and looked at the Bo's'n, asking my question by only raising my eyebrows. He nodded affirmatively.

"Help yourself, Bo's'n," said the Skipper. We all stood round, in the fashion of seafaring men, and drank the health of "The Lady," and then "To you, Captain," and then "To you, Mr. Jones," and then "To you, Bo's'n."

"Give us a regular toast, Bo's'n," said the Skipper; "one of the old timers." The Skipper filled his glass to the brim and waited. The Bo's'n hemmed and hawed.

"I don't know anything very new, sir, Cap'n, sir," he said. "Just the same old one I always knew." He hawed and hemmed again, bowed to Miss Archer, bowed to the Captain, and bowed to me. He bowed to the recumbent form of the young Englishman. After that he gave a comprehensive bow all round. Then, with flushed cheeks and eyes staring straight ahead, he rattled off as a schoolboy would:

"Thewindthatblowsandtheshipthatgoesandthelassthatlovesasailorthat's prettystrongcap'nsir."

We all drank to the Bo's'n's toast, knowing it well from time immemorial. Cynthia gazed in amaze at the Bo's'n, as if he were speaking a new tongue.

"Now yours, Captain," said I.

The Skipper cleared his throat, raised himself a little on tiptoe, and swayed back and forth with a swinging motion, to which his sing-song voice kept time:

I can see them now as they stood there—the Skipper, his face beaming with good nature; the Bo's'n, bashful, but enjoying the privilege of drinking on an equality with his Captain; Cynthia, looking on, half amused. I see them against the background of that dim cavern, the sunlight flecking the floor and wall in spots, where it had pierced the lattice work of leaves. There was a human background also, composed of two figures, the sleeping lad, and Lacelle who hovered ever near her rescuer and protector. And behind all we were conscious of a presence, we knew not quite what, but a kindly personality, which aided us with unobtrusiveness and in a thousand thoughtful ways. With all the privations that we suffered, with all the anxieties and troubles that we had to bear, there is still something which fascinates and draws me back to much that I experienced in those days—dead this many a year. The sweetest odours were wafted in through the leaves, the mocking-bird sang as nothing but a mocking-bird can sing, the vines swayed to and fro in the open window. Glancing between, one perceived the wondrous blue water of the Caribbean Sea, dotted with the white caps of which the trade wind is ever lavish, and, above all the sounds of voices and singing of birds, there was the lap and swish of the fierce little waves as they rushed up over the shingle. It was May, the latter part of May, and the seasons, following round as our seasons at Belleville do, brought each their variety of leaf and flower. If one leaned out of the natural window in the blazing sun, with the fresh wind blowing the hair awry, one's eyes rested on a slope of brilliant tropic colour, where creepers hung from the trees or threaded under and over fallen forest giants, or crept down the hill and made beds and masses of bloom too beautiful to be credited. Great yellow velvet cups stood out from their background of green. Lilies of white and crimson drooped from stems which glowed with life. Had we been but free from care, and had Cynthia possessed but the ordinary comforts to which she had been wonted, I should have asked for nothing better than to pass the rest of our days in this enchanting spot.

We had drained our glasses dry. The Skipper looked directly at the Bo's'n's knees.

"What do you wear your trousers at half mast for, Bo's'n?" asked the Skipper.

The Bo's'n looked down and tugged at his shrunken cotton legs.

"For Captain Dacres, sir," replied he, with ready wit.

"We're through mourning for him," said the Captain. "Run 'em up or haul 'em down."

"They've shrunk to hell and gone, sir," said the Bo's'n, with superfluous explanation.

"And where's your toast, Mr. Jones?" asked the Skipper in his most enticing voice. His glass was empty.

"It's ready, sir, but my glass is dry."

We all took a finger more, and I, looking over the rim of my pewter cup at Cynthia, gave them "Sweethearts and Wives."

Cynthia expressed it as her conviction that we had all had quite enough, and replaced the bottle upon a ledge in the rock and then resumed her occupation of looking through the glass.

"Cynthy," said the Skipper suddenly, "you must get married."

Cynthia started as if a bombshell had exploded in the cavern. She dropped the glass, so that I feared it had been broken as it thumped upon the stone flooring.

"Married, Uncle? Are you insane? Married!"

"I mean it, Cynthy." The Skipper wagged his head and drained his glass dry.

Cynthia drew herself up to her full height. She was only a slight young girl, dressed in a blue dungaree not much the better for her stay ashore, but if I ever saw dignity personified, it was then.

"And to whom, Uncle? To one of the pirates, to the ghost of the cave, to the Minion, to this little English lad, or to yourself? I really don't see any one else I could possibly marry."

"It isn't any of those," said the Skipper, as if Cynthia was quite as forgetful of my presence as she seemed. "You've missed one, Cynthy; it's Jones here," and he indicated me with a jerk of his short stub thumb over his shoulder in my direction.