CHAPTER XXV.
THE MIDDLE KEY
So with this my huntings and findings were all over. I had found a fortune, while the Lord only knew who would ever enjoy the spending of it, though, for one thing, I felt very sure it would not be I myself. There was no likelihood of that. I could never get it back to England, and, if I did, then 'twould at once be said that I had stolen it-either with or without Phips' connivance, and that he and I were a brace of thieves.
But what use to ponder on such things as these! For aught I knew I might never get back to England after all; though, somehow, there was a something in my mind which did ever tell me I should do so. Meanwhile, the present was enough to occupy my attention. Firstly, the night was coming on once more and still I had found no oil, so that I must now cease all labours until the next day. In truth I was ready to do so, for I was weary again by now, and another thing was also very certain, to wit, that in this hut I must take my abode. I could not go a step away with all the treasure there was here.
So I placed the oblong box down into the vault along with the other goods, and then, after I had made an evening meal of some neat's-tongue and bread cake, washed down with the water from the rill, in which also I laved my face and hands, I looked to the primings of all the pistols, got out my cutlash, and, stretching myself across the top of the trap-door, I addressed myself to sleep. At first it would not come in that horrid spot; again and again I saw the form of the dying pirate and heard his yells and singings and toasts. But at last I slept peacefully until the day broke.
And now I had to set about removing all the treasure from the hole where it had lain for doubtless so long-for I did not believe that Alderly was the man who had obtained all this wealth, but rather that some earlier corsair than he had done so and buried it, and that Alderly in some strange way had lighted on it. It was necessary that I should find a new hiding-place for it. "Martin with the sloop" might-if he were indeed an actual being and not the vision of some long dead and gone comrade, perhaps of another part of the world, as I now had a mind to believe-come back at any moment, and also he might know of the buried wealth in spite of the pirate's words having been, "None know but I." For 'twas useless to give credence to any of the utterances issuing from the bemused brain of Alderly-there might be no Martin, or if there were he might know nothing, or, on the contrary, he might know all. At any rate, my part was to make everything safe.
But how to do it? I must remove it to a hiding-place that would be always found, that should be marked in a way and manner which time could not destroy. For who could tell when it might be sought for again? I had then, or, I should rather say, I was then maturing in my mind the idea of writing down all this which I have now done-with great pain and labour to myself! – and that writing might not see the light again for twenty years, perhaps even longer. Therefore, 'twas necessary the spot should be such as would never be changing, a spot which must be the same fifty years hence as it was then. Consequently a tree, for instance, could not be made a landmark or indicator, for tempests might blow it to earth, or years rot it away. Then I thought of a spot on which the sun should fall at a given day, hour, and minute-which, as I have heard, is the commonest way of all for persons burying treasure to mark the precise spot-only, supposing ere the time to come when the hoard should be sought for, something was builded over the spot, as might very well be if Coffin Island became settled, as Tortola or Negada and some others are? This risk, therefore, small as it might be, I would not run.
Still, what should I do? I must decide quickly, for if Martin and the sloop were real things and not shadows they might be here at any moment, and if once my task were finished I should not mind their coming very greatly. I could, perhaps, avoid them somehow and get away, leaving the goods safe. Quickly I must decide. Then, as an aid to my doing so, I determined me to walk round the isle, thinking that in such a way a spot might be found suitable for my purpose.
So I set forth, going armed, you may be sure.
Now, this daylight walk of mine about the island showed to me very many things that I had not seen on my midnight rounds, when the terrors and the ghastliness of the hut had driven me forth. I learned among other things that, not very far from the hut itself, was the little upland from which one could look down upon the whole of the isle and all the coast around it, and also I could see down into my cove where I had anchored the galliot, and did observe her lying there safe as I had left her.
Also I found that from this spot I could see for many miles out to sea, and observe that, at least for the present, there were no signs of my haunting fear, Martin and his sloop. To the south lay Tortola, Anguilla, and St. Martin; to the east lay Negada, but away to the west nought met the eye, Porto Rico being out of vision. And as for those poor miserables who inhabited the two first above mentioned, if they were still alive and had not died of melancholy, they gave no signs of being so; there was no boat upon all the waters, no smoke rising from hut or cabin; nought gave evidence of the islands being inhabited but the faint lights I had seen at night. But what concerned me and my present desires most was that to the north of this, Coffin Island, I did see some little Keys or sandy spots, covered with their weeds and bushes, lying out about a hundred yards from my island.
"Why not there?" thinks I, upon this. "Why not one of those? 'Tis now the high tide," as I took occasion to observe, "and they are above water, therefore 'tis not like they will ever be submerged, or, if even so, they will come forth again. And there are three close together; it shall be the middle one if on inspection all seems well."
So, upon this, I got me down to my boat and rowed round from the side of Coffin Island, where the river was, to the north where the Keys were, and went on to the middle one. It was, as I have said, covered with bushes and weeds, none very tall, and it being now the season there were a-many turtles on it laying of their eggs, as they will do in any unfrequented and quiet spot.
"Yes," says I, "this must be the place and none other," and with that I pulled away at a great bush in the middle of the Key I was standing on, and on getting it up did see that the soil was nearly all sand. And again I said, "This must be the place."
So I went off once more, resolving to get to work this very day, and, making a journey to the hut, I brought off the spade and mattock and the least heavy of the coffers-I mean that one that had the Death in it, and when I was back on the Key I began my digging at once, and the sand being extremely light I soon had got down some ten feet, so that at last I had a task to scramble out of the treasure's future grave. Then I made more journeys, and, in the end, by sunset had gotten all the coffers as well as the long box on to the Key. And this night I decided to sleep there, as I would not leave the goods alone until they were buried-though I do believe that, had I left them there exposed on the isle until now when I write, they would very like have remained untouched; for Martin I concluded now to be entirely a myth, and as for other pirates, they would never come to such Keys as this when the whole place swarmed with real islands.
At sunrise I was at it again, having ate some turtle eggs for my meal-a pleasing change for me-and by midday all was done. The four coffers and the box went in one atop of each other, the uppermost one being, at its lid, three feet from the surface, and with on top of each a turtle shell, of which there were several lying about the Key. These I put in also because the shells are almost imperishable, and, should the coffers decay, if they have to lie-as they may, who knows? – twenty or thirty years in the ground before this my history is found, the great shells will protect the contents somewhat, though no harm that I know of can come to coins, jewels, and so forth from a-lying in the earth. Then, when all was filled up, I did most carefully arrange the place so that, if by any strange chance anyone should here land, no signs should be given of a disturbance being made. I replanted the bush over the spot; with some brushwood and scrub I removed some spare grains of sand that had been thrown up, and arranged everything as best I might, going so far as to take some turtles' eggs and place them about, so that they should give the idea-if anyone did land here-that the turtles themselves had disturbed the spot in their crawlings and creepings.
And now, for your guidance, I will write down how you shall find this spot, and also will I draw as well as may be a little map.
First you are to know that-as the hydrographer of his Majesty's Admiralty hath since informed me-Negada is situated 18° 46' N., 64° 20' W.; Tortola is 18° 27' N., 64° 40' W.; and Coffin Island is consequently, since it doth lie a little to the north of Negada, as near as possible 18° 48' N., 64° 20' W. Wherefore, if you make these degrees, there you shall perceive that isle, shaped as it is named, long like a coffin, thin at the foot, broad higher up, then somewhat narrow again, the foot pointing due west, the head due east. Also the little upland I have spoken of riseth from the centre, perhaps one hundred and fifty to one hundred and eighty feet. Then, due north of that and exactly in a line with the shoulder of the coffin-shape, there are the Keys, and the middle contains the treasure. Now, read again. From the north side of the middle key to the spot where I buried all the coffers and the box is fifty-one good strides of three feet each, from the south side to the same spot is fifty-three strides, from the east is forty-nine strides, from the west is fifty strides and a half. Therefore, you shall not miss it if so be that, when you have taken your first measurement from the spot where you land, you stick in the ground your sword and there make, or persevere until you make, all your other strides correspond with what I have wrote down. And I have made no mistake, for three times did I go over the ground and all times did the measurements tally. Do you likewise and you shall find what I did bury.
Now here is a little map, rough, as befits a drawing made by me, yet just and true.
I shall be dead before you who find this can read it, so that, perhaps, it boots not very much that I should write down any more. Yet some things I desire to tell, and some things I think it right for me to leave on record.
But first let me say what was the end of my sojourn here.
When I had buried all of the treasure-excepting those pieces of gold which I took away with me, not knowing where I might find myself ere I reached home-if ever-I made for the galliot. For now I had done with the hut-I never desired to see it again.
However, so that no signs of disturbance or diggings should be apparent, should any come after me, I first of all covered up, on my last visit to it, the spot from whence I had taken the treasure, and, moreover, I filled in the hiding place with earth fetched from outside, and also the descent by the steps. Indeed, I would have burned the place down to the ground, only that I feared to set the whole island on fire and so attract attention to my presence from the other isles. And that there should be no more digging, if I could help it, without great pains, I dropped the spade and mattock into the sea.
I say that I wished to attract no attention from the isles, the reason whereof was this, which I had arrived at after many ponderings. If I were known to be there, or if I went to those isles and showed myself, I must be subject to many questionings, must explain all and my chasing of the pirate, and-who knows? – in the course of talk more might leak out than I should care for. And, therefore, I had taken a determination; I would not go near the other isles, but, boldly and without fear, directly the wind was favourable-which it was not now-I would steer for the reef once more. 'Twas, I did calculate, not more than ninety miles away; the galliot could sail that very easily in two days, and, for finding the spot, why that also was very easy to be done. I could well steer a course by keeping Porto Rico on my larboard beam, and then, when the great hump of Hispaniola's Northern Promontory did come into view, could find the road to the reef.
From there, if Phips was gone, I must to the Bahamas-for I should not dare to go ashore in Hispaniola now, since the news of the Black's death, and Geronimo's rage at being defeated of what he thought due, might lead me to trouble-and I could, perhaps, get to the Inaguas. These, for there are two of that name, the Great and the Little, are in the Windward Passages, well known to navigators, very useful for putting into for refitting and watering, and belonging to our Crown.
Yet-for so things will sometimes happen-nought went as I had forecast. And this you shall hear, after which my history is concluded-for which I devoutly thank the Lord, and shall, on the Sabbath after it is finished, offer up a special prayer of thanksgiving in Branford Church that I have been allowed to bring it to an end-and I shall then have no more to tell.
CHAPTER XXVI.
NICHOLAS LEAVES THE ISLAND
Now, when all was prepared for my setting forth and when I had gotten the galliot ready for her next cruise and had also taken in some fresh water, a small live turtle, some fruit, and all my bread and peas-now running very low-chance was against me for a while. Even for three weeks the wind did blow strong from the northwest, while all the time I desired a wind from the south-east, and I began to ponder if at this season of the year it did not perhaps stay in the same quarter altogether. There was, however, nought to do but to possess my soul in patience, to keep ever a cheerful heart, and to trust in God, as all my life I have done. Meanwhile, in some ways the delay was not altogether to be repined at, for I made, during it, several visits to the Key in my boat and observed that now there was no sign at all of the burying I had made. The bush above the spot had taken root again at once, and was growing and flourishing, some rain storms that had come had smoothed and made solid the disturbed earth, and the turtles were laying of their eggs all around as if no human foot had ever stood upon the Key.
One thing alone troubled me, and that was food-or rather bread, for this was now running very short. If I did not get away soon, I should have to do without it altogether, or go seek for some in Negada and Tortola. Yet neither, I was resolved, would I do this, but rather exist without bread at all. I was a sailor, I ever told myself, and a sailor should be able to endure all hardships.
But on the twenty-second day since I buried my spoils, a change came. I was sleeping in the cabin of my galliot, when with the dawn I perceived it. The northwest wind from which I had been sheltered in my cove had never disturbed the vessel; now from her starboard side, which was to the south as she lay, there blew in a hot southern wind, waves and riplets came into the cove from that direction and lapped against her bows, and she began gently to rise and fall and heel over a little from them, as though she were a living thing, impatient to be off.
"'Tis come," I exclaimed, springing up. "The hour has come to bid farewell to this spot. If this wind hold forty-eight hours I shall be at the Inaguas if I find not Phips at the reef."
The morn was not yet however, but was anigh as I stepped to the deck; the breeze sweeping up from the long line of islands to the south was a-freshening; the stars began to pale, the new moon to wane. No time could have been better for me than this quiet period before the dawn to steal away.
In half an hour I was well outside the cove, the masts stepped, the sails set-and I at the helm had set forth upon my road home. 'Twas a strange voyage for one alone to undertake-had there been another, or even a boy, to relieve me 'twould have been nought; but now 'twas a voyage without a compass or aught to guide me, nothing indeed to help me but the mercy of heaven, my knowledge of the sea, and my strong frame and good health. However, we slipped round Coffin Island a little later, and I saw for the last time the spot that held the buried treasure. The little Key was visible beneath the now rising sun, the sea-birds were wheeling round and about it, and the blue water rippled on its shores. And so I took farewell of it, knowing that I should never see it any more. May you, whomsoever you may be for whom I write this narrative, find it as I left it, unharmed and untouched. May your eyes gaze upon it and find therein what I left behind when mine have long been closed in death.
And now I had nought to do but steer my bark for that easterly point of Hispaniola called of late Cape Françoy, and so I should come near to the reef, and this, since the wind was very good and not boisterous, 'twas easy enough to do. When I was weary I would lower down the sails, lash the rudder, and so take some rest-doing this, of course, by day only, since when the night came I must keep good watch-and then set sail again when refreshed, finding my course easy enough by the sun and breeze.
And so the first day passed, and I did calculate that-allowing for my rest-I had left Coffin Island some twenty to fifteen leagues behind me, and, so that I should not pass the Bajo and thereby run on to Moushoire Carré, or Turk's Islands, I shortened sail. Yet this I need not have done neither, for in some way I had not got my calculations aright. At dawn there was no land in sight as I thought to see, so that the galliot had not sailed as I guessed, or I had missed my course. The wind, however, and the sun forbade me to think this, so I made all sail again and went on.
At midday I did discover I was on the right tack; Cape Françoy and Samana rose on my beam end, therefore I knew that by altering my course a point to the north I must strike the spot where the reef was. And this I did, judging by the sun that it was four of the afternoon when first I saw the little shoal waters over it.
I know not even now if I was glad or sorry to perceive-as I did very soon-that the Furie was no longer there. Yet I think it was the latter, for I had hoped to hear the cheery shout of Phips, to see my brother officers come round me, to hear the welcomes of the men, and to be able to tell my tale. But 'twas not to be. All around the reef was as lonely as if no plate ship had ever sunk there, no attempts ever been made to get up its contents, no horrid tragedy happened such as that when Phips slew the Black and executed of his companion. Birds flew about all over it, seeking perhaps for scraps of food where not a month ago they had found a plenty, the little waves foamed over the sunken reef where the now emptied treasure ship lay-but that was all.
No! I forget. 'Twas not all. As I drew near I saw sticking up from the water-as I had not been able to see before because of the flittings of the many gulls-that which looked like a jagged piece of mast, or yard of a ship, with something crosswise atop of it, and my curiosity being great I got the galliot near to it. I knew I could do this, since she had gone over the reef often enough when acting as a tender, and when 'twas done I saw that it was indeed a mast standing up endwise in the water, the lower part doubtless fixed into some crevice or hole by the diver ere the Furie left. And the cross-piece nailed on to the top of the mast was in the form of a big arrow rudely carved, placed so that it pointed towards where Europe was, and with on it the words, "To Nicholas Crafer. Make your way home." That was all, yet it told enough. The Furie had gone home with the treasure; if I was still alive I was to go too.
*******
Let me be brief. That remaining day and night I anchored off our original little isle, took in some fresher water than I had, and caught some fishes. Also I once more did cover again the bleached bones of those mutineers who had endeavoured to surprise and seize upon the Algier Rose-'twas the last time, I reflected, it would ever be done by me or any. There was no danger of losing the favourable wind by resting here for these few hours; if anything it was blowing stronger and fresher from the south-east than before. Nay, when I put off in the morning for the furtherance of my course, it was blowing so much in a manner I cared not for, namely in fitful gusts followed by moments of stillness, that I doubted me if I was overwise in putting to sea again yet. Moreover, the wind was almost due south by now, so that to make the Inaguas I should have much more trouble and work than when sailing large and free before a favourable breeze.
However, I must go, I would not be detained. Indeed, I had come to hate all this region so much that, even should a chance arise in the future for me to come out and bring off all my treasure, I felt as though I should have no mind to it. Phips might come an he would, and get it, but, for myself, I wanted not to come again. If the Hispaniola plate had been gotten back safely, then there would be a share for me that would keep me from the wolf for the remainder of my days. It would not be wealth, but would doubtless suffice-and I had finished with the sea!
Though not yet.
When I was two hours out from our little isle, and, as I believed, near unto Moushoire Carré, I did discover that I had been foolish to put out against so fast rising a wind. For it had now freshened into a gale due from the south, so that I had to sail close-hauled if I wanted to pass that place in safety, and also Turk's Islands. Nor even a little later was this possible, as it blew more and more. I could no longer manage both sails and helm. So now I had to take down most all my sail excepting the foresail to steady the galliot, and to put her head before the wind, abandoning of my course altogether. And not long afterwards the storm had become a furious one, the whole heavens were obscured, the sea rose horribly-I saw at this moment a picaroon in distress a little way off me, and shortly go down-and my galliot did seem to be doomed.
And now I never thought but that I had reached my journey's end, that all was over with me. Huge seas swept over the bows, the vessel soon began to fill with water, she rolled and tossed from side to side so that I could not keep my feet, and then I heard a crash, I saw the mainmast falling swiftly towards me, I felt a blow that shot a thousand stars from my eyes, and I knew no more.
*******
When I again recovered of my senses I understood not at first where I was, excepting that I was lying in a berth in a dark cabin, that all my head was swathed in cloths, and that standing near me was an elderly man, regarding me attentively.
"Where," I asked, "am I! This is not the galliot."
"So," he replied in my own tongue, "you are an Englishman! We thought by the build of your galliot that you were a Dutchman. Who and what are you?"
"Lieutenant Crafer, late of his Majesty's navy, and late first Lieutenant of the Furie, Captain Phips. What ship is this?"
"His Majesty's Virgin Prize, a 32-gun frigate, Captain John Balchen. Homeward bound. You should know this officer, Lieutenant Crafer."
"Very well," I answered. "We have served together. Yet 'tis not strange if he knows not me, no razor has touched my face for many weeks."
And so it was that I found myself bound to England in a King's ship, having for her captain a man whom I had been at sea with ere now, when he was my subaltern. That I told him all as regards the treasure you are not to suppose; that secret was locked in my own breast, to be divulged to one only, Phips. But I did give him a very fair and considerable history of much that we had gone through, and, living with him in his cabin and at his table, you may be sure that we had many talks on the subject of the sunken plate-ship.
"Yet," said he often, "I misdoubt me if King James will be there to take his tenths when Phips gets the Furie home. The people will endure him but little longer-he is now an avowed Papish-and already there are whisperings of putting one of his daughters in his place. If 'twere Mary all would be well, since she is married to a staunch Protestant, though the country would scarce accept him, too, I think."
Yet, as you will see by later day history, James was still there when I got back. And this I did on Lady Day in the year of our Lord 1687, the Virgin Prize making Portsmouth a month after she picked me up, a corpse as they first thought, from the deck of the galliot, which was cast off after I was rescued. It seemed from their calculations and mine that I must have been met with some hours only after I was struck down, and at first they thought I had been attacked by the picaroon-which ships are generally full of thieves-which they had been a-chasing.
So, in this way, I came back from my second voyage to the wrecked Spanish Plate Ship, and put my foot once more on my native land at Portsmouth Hard.
And now but a few words more and I have done.