FOR two days longer the rain continued, and then with a gentle southerly breeze the sky cleared and the sun came out again, lighting up once more the land and sea and releasing us from the confinement indoors, which had begun to grow irksome. Of course the first thing to be done was for all three of us to be ferried over the creek and to walk up the beach to the galleon. The two sand-banks were now dry and the water in the basin was quite clear and transparent, so that the hull was plainly visible, the raised poop and forecastle being only about three or four feet under the surface. All her masts and spars had fallen and disappeared long ago. A cluster of corals seemed to indicate where the foremast once had stood. A curious thing was the appearance of a single pane of glass which was visible in the side of the cabin. This pane had changed its transparent quality to a milky condition of pearly irridescence, and shone under water like a gem as it caught and reflected the light from above.

This vessel never could have been noted for speed, I thought, as the hull appeared to be a regular tub, with high bows and stern, a great breadth of beam, and a low mid-deck or waist where lay the green remains of what had once been four brass carronades. When sailing close-hauled she probably went to leeward faster than she drew ahead. Doubtless such was the ancient fashion of ships, and it accounts for the fact that the old voyagers were sometime wind-bound, until the green moss and weeds grew plentiful on their hulls, and the water and provisions gave out, and the dreadful scurvy came to sweep away half the crew. I could picture this lumping old craft as she might have looked when the old admiral commanded her beneath the broad flag of Spain,—her crowded decks, her tall masts, the gorgeous array of bright-colored garments worn by the dusky grandees who were on board, the images of the saints, the crucifix at the wheel, the shaven priest, and all the pomp and ceremony that attended her clumsy progress to strange ports.

I knew the history of her last voyage well. I knew how she had twice rounded Cape Horn and stanchly buffeted the storms of two oceans; of the troops she had landed, the treasure she had taken up, and the final scene when with sails set and colors flying she sank beneath the waves. Long ago every soul who then lived had gone to the other world; the admiral, his officers and his crew, the king and queen and all their court were now returned to dust. Yet here lay the fabric of teak and oak, still strong and stanch and enduring, and the store of gold that I hoped to get. Were the shades of these departed ones aware that a heretic was planning and contriving to get the long sunken treasure, so much of which had been once designed for the coffers of the holy mother Church?

We made a careful survey of the basin, and selected the lesser bank of sand, that forming the breakwater at the narrow end of the chasm, as a suitable site for the pumping-apparatus. Mr. Millward pointed out to me the fact that the water stood higher in the basin than the then level of the sea,—a proof, he insisted, that the water did not percolate to any considerable extent through the firmly packed sand. This was a highly important fact to us. Had it been otherwise we never could have hoped to pump the basin dry, or below the sea level.

With a line we took some measurements which we expected to need, and then set out on our return to the house.

As a matter of convenience we decided to build the water-raising machine complete and set it up and test it at the creek near the house, where we could be near such domestic comforts as we possessed; after which we could load it on the boat and convey it to the chasm. And this work we set about at once. As I have already indicated what this machine was to be I need not here again detail minutely its construction. The wheel we made chiefly of stout bamboo, the water-troughs of hollowed logs; the bearings, in deference to Mr. Millward’s recollection of the uncouth screeching of the machine’s Indian predecessors, we supplied liberally with grease. In ten days the thing was complete and set up at the creek for trial,—troughs, platform, and all. I had arranged that the water might flow from the troughs into a ditch leading to our garden to irrigate the growing crops.

When all was ready I mounted the wheel, and like a horse in a treadmill (perhaps a better simile would be like a hod-carrier climbing an endless ladder) began to turn it. Up came the full gourds, splashing the water at quick intervals alternately into the two troughs, whence it flowed down to the ditch in tinkling rills, steadily and continuously, as long as I chose to keep up the ladder-climbing action. It was going to prove rather hard work, I fancied; but nevertheless it was a perfect success, as I was continually lifting more than half my own weight in water with as little exertion as could have been required to accomplish that result. Then Mr. Millward tried his footing on the machine; and finally we had to help up Alice to try it in turn. Altogether it was unanimously pronounced a grand success, and we only waited for a fair wind that we might take it down and embark it for the chasm. Unfortunately for our patience, the wind veered around into the northeast again, and was quite too heavy to allow us to make the voyage with safety, as the rollers came tumbling in over the bar at the mouth of the creek at such rate that there would be great danger of swamping the boat in any endeavor we might make to get outside.

I was so impatient at this delay that I had half a mind to take the machine apart and attempt to carry it piecemeal overland. But it was useless to repine over the inevitable. It was not probable that I should gain an hour of time by undertaking to lug the machine overland, and I should simply have a great labor for naught. There was therefore nothing to do but to possess our souls with patience and await the issue.

Aside from the wind, which blew half a gale, the weather was pleasant, and the sun shone warm and bright. As we had nothing better to do, it was agreed that we should make an overland excursion to the old plantation for the purpose of getting some fresh fruit. One morning early, after a good breakfast, we ferried over the creek and started with light hearts and in holiday spirits up the beach, the wind blowing stiffly and the breakers crashing in beside us. I assisted Alice Millward with my arm, for the breeze was strong enough to make walking against it difficult for a woman. With bowed heads we beat slowly along until we reached the hog path, and were glad to turn into it and get under shelter of the vegetation, which broke the wind and made progress comfortable. Neither of my companions had ever been over this road before, and I explained what might be expected from moment to moment as we advanced. When we came to the cleft in the rocks where the stream came through, Alice and her father were delighted with the romantic and picturesque beauty of the place; the bold, precipitous rocks, the stream, the overarching trees growing far above, the dense beds of fern, tall and feathery, were all duly admired.

When we emerged into the north valley, we found a great herd of pigs that scattered and ran wildly at our approach. I managed to lasso a little porker, just old enough to roast, which we proposed to have for dinner. The orange grove was as before plentifully laden with oranges in all stages of growth, many of them quite ripe, a delicious refreshment. We soon reached the house, and building a fire in the broad fireplace of the kitchen, spitted the porker in front of it, and leaving him to twirl slowly before the fire on a twisting cord, we wandered over the old garden and plantation, Alice and I often hand in hand. I felt sure that she was pleased at my undisguised attention to her comfort, and that it gave her pleasure to be with me; and this in turn gave me unspeakable delight.

We were among the bananas and plantains seeking some of the latter to bake as an accompaniment for our dinner of roast pig, when I heard what sounded like the distant report of a gun. The sound was so faint and distant that I could not be entirely sure of my impressions, until I had asked Alice,—

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” she replied, “it sounded as though somebody had fired a pistol far away over yonder on the high land.”

We listened intently several minutes for a repetition of the sound, but as we heard nothing the impression soon passed away; for our conversation, however uninteresting it would seem if written down, was, I assure you, of most absorbing interest, at least to me, though we talked of nothing in particular, and like children laughed at everything out of mere high spirits. We went now with our plantains to the house, where Mr. Millward was gone to look after the roast. He came out to meet us, smiling at our evident enjoyment as he heard the merry ringing laughter of his daughter, over some nonsense or other I had been putting into words. As we all three stood in the shadow of the great veranda, upon its brick pavement, between the joints of which the rank vegetation was sprouting, I heard again, and this time borne on the wind quite distinctly, two shots in quick succession. There was no mistaking the sound this time. I saw instantly in the faces of both my companions that each had heard the unusual sound. Mr. Millward cried quickly: “A gun! who can be firing a gun on the island?”

“What can this mean?” thought I. And again we listened, but there was no repetition of the report.

“Somebody besides ourselves is on the island,” said Mr. Millward.

We stood now looking at each other in silence for several minutes. My mind reverted at once to the pearl-fishers. They had doubtless returned, and the shots we had heard indicated that they were pig-hunting. The same thought had occurred to Mr. Millward, and he immediately expressed his fear that the pearl-fishers had come back. Indeed, it did not need any great power of divination to determine this, because the chances were as a hundred to one against any other visitors. All the picnic and holiday hilarity of our excursion was over. We were full of anxiety and care at once. The probability was that we had neighbors, of a most undesirable character,—lawless adventurers who would have small respect and consideration for us if we stood in their way, or even if they thought so. If they discovered that we had surprised their secret it was impossible to say what they might do. I had often thought of the contingency which now apparently presented itself, and had cogitated much and to no purpose as to what I should do when it arose. And now the thing so long feared as a possibility was actually upon us. Unexpectedly at the last it came like a skeleton to mar our happy feast. We hurried through our dinner in anxious mood and immediately started back home, laden with the fruit we had collected.

When we reached home everything was as we had left it. There had been, so far as we could tell, no visitor in our absence. We arrived about three o’clock in the afternoon. I was restive with the uncertainty and anxiety that the sound of those three gunshots had occasioned. I felt that I must know speedily the exact truth. Our own personal safety, to say nothing of the treasure ship, was possibly involved, and I determined to go at once to Farm Cove, where they would probably be encamped, and reconnoitre the enemy secretly. Of course there would be danger of encountering the pig-hunter, or party of pig-hunters on the way, but I must endeavor by caution to avoid this. When I announced my intention both Mr. Millward and Alice opposed my going; but I was able very soon to convince them that it was necessary.

About four o’clock I started alone, not permitting the dog to accompany me. I took the small axe from Mr. Millward’s boat, my lasso, some food, and a small gourd of water slung as a canteen over my shoulder. I told them I might not return until the next day; but that if I did not get back before the next night they might conclude I had been captured; and in that event it would be wise for them to embark in their boat and make the best of their way to Martinique. But Mr. Millward proposed a better plan, which was that if I did not return by the next night, he and Alice, provided the weather was such as to permit it, would take both boats out of the creek and anchor just beyond the breakers, and wait there another day. This was such an excellent idea that I at once agreed to it.

Bidding them farewell I plunged into the forest and made my way cautiously to the central elevated plateau, climbing the rocks by the path which I had first ascended. Here the open nature of the growth made the utmost caution indispensable, for I might at any moment now come upon the visitors, if they were still out pig-hunting. It was necessary that I should see them before they saw me. This made my progress very slow. Looking carefully about in every direction, and listening for every sound, I advanced a hundred yards or so and repeated the observation, concealing myself as thoroughly as the nature of the ground permitted. On the connecting ridge between the central plateau and the shore cliffs I came upon convincing evidence of the presence of visitors on the island. Here a pig had been killed and disembowelled. The viscera still fresh lay upon the ground, and a broad mark where the carcass had been dragged along led away toward the shore cliffs in the direction of Farm Cove. I had now little doubt that I should find the visitors at that place. It was fully an hour before sunset, and I thought it best to conceal myself and wait until dark before advancing further. I secreted myself therefore amid a thick clump of ferns, and patiently waited for the friendly shelter of the night.

As I sat thus buried in the ferns among the moss-grown rocks, looking out through a break in the forest toward the southern sky, where lay a battlemented mass of sun-dyed cloud, heavy and fantastic in outline, there passed through my mind thoughts of the life and curious adventures of that Henry Morgan, my ancestor’s brother, who two hundred years ago had roamed these seas and besieged the Spanish strongholds. Fancy pictured in the tinted clouds the fortified city of Porto Bello, the seaport of Panama on the Atlantic side of the isthmus, which the intrepid Morgan attacked with four hundred and sixty of his men, having resolved to reduce this strongly fortified place as a preliminary to the capture of the rich city of Panama itself. There was in my mind the vision of the gray walls, the gorgeous banners, the smoke and roar of guns, the white-faced priest and pale nuns looking from the convent walls, the scaling-ladders, the grim, determined Anglo-Saxon sailors, mingled with the equally determined Dutch and the black-bearded Frenchmen, constituting Morgan’s little band. I could see in fancy the flashing, blood-stained blades, and hear the hoarse battle-cry. I could even fancy my ancestral uncle himself, broad-shouldered and commanding in appearance as he needs must have been, standing, fire-balls in hand, on the scaling-ladder, grimy with powder, and with his face set toward the doomed city. There must have been something more than mere brute force in this great leather-clad ancestral uncle of mine with his flashing eyes and sturdy figure; for did he not control absolutely at one time all this region; conquer the all-conquering Spaniard; quell mutinies among his reckless followers with ease; lead them without food across the fever-stricken isthmus, travelling amid inconceivable obstacles ever onward until they were actually reduced to eating their leathern doublets; then with this starved crew did he not besiege and capture the rich city of Panama? When a mutiny rose and some of his desperate followers threatened to desert him for a piratical cruise in one of the captured ships, Morgan, like Hernando Cortez, but with his own hand, chopped down the masts and rigging. Ah, there must have been a spirit in this man greater than a mere piratical thirst for blood. Then too, did not his sovereign, Charles II., bestow upon him subsequently the order of knighthood, make him Sir Henry Morgan, and place him as governor over the island of Jamaica? He died without descendants of his own, the honors bestowed upon him in the later days of his career are no longer remembered, and in the region he once dominated his name is used to frighten children with. He is now remembered only as a buccaneer, a name almost synonymous with “pirate;” a dauntless, reckless, blood-thirsty, unconquerable embodiment of energy and will, brooking no power near him save his own,—truly a leader of men, but exercising his leadership to no good purpose. Though he once controlled the Spanish main, we fail to see it recorded that he ever did good to any man.

Here was I now, two hundred years later, perhaps the sole surviving representative of his family, his sole heir, seeking to recover a treasure that he conquered, a treasure which I had already brought up from the depths of the sea, and which only waited to be possessed. I felt the old spirit of the dead Morgans fire my heart at the thought of the possible intervention of a crew of lawless pearl-fishers to snatch the prize from my grasp. The treasure was mine, doubly mine,—first by conquest of one to whom I was heir; and secondly by right of discovery and recovery from the sea. “No! by the Eternal, they shall not have it!” I cried, half aloud. “By the bones of my all-conquering ancestor, they shall never have an ounce of it, not so much as a glimpse of it!”

When it grew dark I resumed my progress toward Farm Cove, stealing along as cautiously as I could over the somewhat broken way. Every few steps I would pause and listen. It was dark as a pocket, and the cloudy sky was scarcely discernible. But still, by keeping the wind on my right cheek it was not difficult to preserve the proper direction, and I knew that however dark the night, the sea would be visible when I reached the cliffs, just as the sky was faintly distinguishable now through the black foliage above me.

It took me fully an hour to cover the comparatively short distance that remained, and it was not done without several falls on the way; but fortunately I made no great noise, though an occasional dry branch would break under foot with a sharp crack, which in the stillness sounded alarmingly loud to my tense senses. In due course, groping along, I came to the cliffs and could see the faint glimmer of the water through the foliage. Then as I parted some branches I caught sight of the red reflection of a fire on the leaves below, then the bright blaze of the fire itself, and a canvas tent which was lighted by it. Increased caution was now demanded. It would not do to step on a dry branch now, so at each step I felt cautiously with my foot that nothing might intervene between it and the ground. Fortunately I came out upon the path which led down the rocks into the little vale that lay, as I have previously described, like a bowl open on one side to the sea and nearly surrounded by the cliffs. Down this path I stole cautiously, and was half-way down before the intervening foliage would permit a fair view of the encampment.

And now I was almost near enough to hear the conversation that was going on among the people assembled there. Indeed, I could hear the hum of voices, but was unable to distinguish words. In the light of the bright fire I could see four men seated on the ground playing cards on a folded blanket. They were evidently gambling. One of the four was a yellow-skinned Chinaman, who sat facing me. Opposite him and with his back toward me was a great, burly negro, while the other two players were dark-skinned, black-haired native Indians or Caribbeans. The game was an animated one, and the players were completely absorbed in it. Near by the fire, seated on a fagot of wood, was a third Indian, his head bent forward and resting on his hands as he looked steadily into the fire. From where I was located I could not see into the tent, which consisted of a square of canvas thrown over a pole and stretched shed-fashion to the ground, with the opening toward the fire. But I could plainly see on the canvas the shadow of a person seated within the tent. On a limb near by hung distended the dressed carcass of a hog. I could just make out that some sort of a craft was moored at the mouth of the little stream.

I watched this scene for several minutes scarce daring to breathe. The three Indians, each carrying a long knife in his belt, were, I conjectured, the divers of the party; the Chinaman was doubtless the cook; and as for the negro, I could not determine approximately his place.

Suddenly the players fell to quarrelling, and one of the Indians, with an angry cry, sprang up and drew his knife. Instantly the whole party was on foot, and I fully expected from their excited manner and attitude to see blood shed. Just at this juncture the person in the tent—a man—came quickly out, with a drawn revolver in his hand, and sprang into the mÊlÉe, cursing and shouting in a loud, deep voice of command for them to desist. He was a broad, compactly built fellow, of forty years or thereabouts, evidently possessed of great muscular strength; for he was able with his unoccupied hand to seize by the shoulder the Indian who had drawn the knife, and with one effort send him reeling backward almost to the ground.

“Caramba!” cried he, in guttural Spanish. “Dogs, stop this fighting, do you hear? If I find you at it again there shall be no more card-playing. Go to bed, or keep quiet, you quarrelsome scoundrels.”

The fight was over. All seemed alike to fear him, and when I saw his countenance in the firelight I could not wonder. It was a dark, powerful, and passionate face, framed in by a short black beard. Dark enough for a Spaniard, there was yet something in the countenance that made me think he was not of the Latin race; more likely a dark Englishman or an American. Perhaps his dress and general appearance contributed to this conclusion. He was the only white man in the party, and that he was master, or chief, did not admit of a doubt.

Now that I had seen this cut-throat-looking gang and their chief, my apprehension as to what they might attempt if they found us on the island and in possession of their pearl-fishing secret was by no means allayed. As to what would happen if they by any chance should discover the galleon, I felt only too certain.

Crouched down among the dark leafage by the side of the path I remained, a prey to many thoughts, for a quarter of an hour longer, and then stole cautiously back up the path to the high ground above, and began my return home through the darkness. When I had put a considerable distance between me and the party I had left, I began to breathe more freely. In the murky darkness I more than once missed the way, and finally came out at a place where, though I could plainly hear the murmur of the waters of the creek below me, it was impossible to descend.

However, by travelling first in one direction and then in the other, I at last came upon the little gulley which I had before descended, and getting down was able to proceed with greater speed along the more familiar route. It was midnight when I at last reached the house and roused Mr. Millward and Alice to relate to them what I had seen.

As we were safe for that night at least, I proposed that we should go to bed again and get our rest, and discuss our situation in the morning.