The Island Treasure Part 17

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JAN STEENBOCK GETS CONFIDENTIAL.

"My stars, Chips!" exclaimed Hiram, who was standing near by when Tom Bullover held up his treasure-trove to view. "What hev ye got thaar, ship met?"

"Sorry o' me knows," returned the other, examining the object closely.

"Seems like one o' them blessed saints they has in the cathedral at Lima, which I went over one day last v'y'ge I took this side, when I sailed from Shields to Valparaiso, and arterwards come up the coast, our skipper looking out for a cargy, instead o' going back home in ballast.

It seems a pretty sort o' himage, too, bo, and I'm hanged if I don't think it's gold, for it's precious heavy for its size, I can tell you!"

"Chuck it over hyar an' let's see what it's like," said Hiram, his curiosity at once roused. "I'll soon tell ye if it's hunkydory ez soon ez I hev the handlin' on it; fur I ken smell the reel sort, I guess, an'

knows it likewise by the feel it kinder hez about it."

"Right you are, bo," sang out Tom Bullover, pitching it towards him.

"Catch!"

"Bully far yer!" cried Hiram, putting up his hands and clutching hold of the figure as, well thrown by the other, it came tumbling into his ready grasp. "I'll soon tell ye what it's made on, I reckon!"

He thereupon proceeded to inspect the object carefully, giving it a lick of his tongue and rough polish with his palms, to remove the dirt and dust with which it was partly encrusted, sniffing at it and handling it as if it were a piece of putty.

"Well, bo," asked Tom at length, tired of waiting and eager to learn the result of the other's examination; "is it all right?"

"You bet," responded Hiram, tossing up the image in the air and catching it again, and raising a triumphant shout that at once attracted the attention of the other hands, who dropped their pickaxes and shovels instanter and came cl.u.s.tering round. "I'm jiggered if it ain't gold, an' durned good metal, too, with nary a bit o' bogus stuff about it.

Hooray!"

"Hooray!" yelled out the rest of the men in sympathy, the precious figure being pa.s.sed round from one to another, so that each could see it in turn and judge for himself. "Hooray!"

"Hillo!" cried Captain Snaggs, noticing the commotion and coming bustling up, with his wiry goatee beard bristling and his pointed nose and keen eyes all attention. "What d'ye mean droppin' work an loafin'

up hyar in a crowd, makin' all that muss fur, hey?"

"We've just found this here figger, sir," explained Tom Bullover; "and Hiram says it's made o' gold."

"Thet's so, cap," corroborated the American sailor. "It air all thet; an' goold of good grit, I reckon, too, or I'll swaller the durned lump, I will, without sa.s.s!"

"Humph!" snorted the skipper, holding out his hand for it; "give us holt, an' I'll prospect it fur ye, if ye like. They usest to tell me I warn't a bad jedge when I wer at the Carraboo diggin's an' went in fur minin'."

The little image of the Madonna was accordingly handed to him, and the skipper's nose wrinkled up, and twitched and jerked sideways, while his billy-goat beard bristled out like a porcupine's quills, as he sniffed and examined the figure, turning it over and over in his hands and feeling it, the same as Hiram had done. He even went so far as to pinch it.

"Jee-rusalem!" he at length exclaimed; "it's gold, sure enuff!"

"Hooray!" again burst from the men around. "Hooray!"

"I don't see nothin' to holler fur," said Captain Snaggs, in response to this, bringing them up, as the saying goes, 'with a round turn,' as he turned round angrily. "Guess ye won't find no more o' the same sort skatin' round the ranche!"

But, just then, Jan Steenbock came on the scene.

He had been busily engaged overseeing the construction of a species of coffer-dam across the sh.o.r.e at right angles and up to the keel of the ship at the point where the tide came up to, just by the mizzen-chains; so that the water should not get down into the excavation that the men were digging until this should be deep enough to float the vessel, or, at all events, a.s.sist in easing her off the beach--for, if flooded prematurely, the labour would be doubled.

The hands helping him having, however, deserted for the nonce and joined the rest of the crowd around Tom Bullover and Hiram, he came up, also, to the spot where all of us were standing, with the object of coaxing his gang back to their task. The sound of the men's wild shout and the skipper's voice, raised in anger, as he thought, hastened his footsteps, too, for he feared that some mischief was brewing, and that the crew had mutinied at the least.

The moment he got near, though, he could perceive, from the grinning faces and expression of those close by, that nothing very desperate was in the wind; and, he was just on the point of asking what the row was about, when, all at once, he caught sight of the image.

"Mein Gott!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, looking the picture of astonishment, and more excited than I had ever seen him, from the first day I stepped on board the ship until now,--"it vas ze Madonna of ze golt. Ze Madonna of ze golt!"

We all stared at him, filled with wonder at his apparent recognition of the figure. The skipper, however, at once interrogated him on the point.

"Jehosophat, mister!" cried Captain Snaggs, with mixed curiosity and impatience--"what d'ye mean? Hev ye ever seed this hyar figger afore?"

"Yase," said the Dane, in his deep voice; "yase, I vas zee him one long time befores I vas know him ver' well!"

"Thunder, ye don't mean it! What, this durned identical image?"

"Yase, mitout doubt. I vas know dat zame idenzigal vigure," replied the other imperturbably, his pa.s.sing fit of excitement having cooled, leaving him as calm and impa.s.sive as usual. "It vas ze Madonna of ze golt dat we vas loose overboart from ze schgooners, one, doo, dree year ago."

The skipper looked at him, without speaking further for a second or more, Jan Steenbock confronting him as steadfastly and placidly as a periwinkle might have been under the circ.u.mstances; while all of us around gazed at them both, open-mouthed with expectancy.

"What d'ye mean?" presently said Captain Snaggs, breaking the silence; "what schooner air ye talkin' on?"

"Ze schgooners dat I vas zail in vrom Guayaquil dat time as I tell yous, vor to gatoh ze orchillas veeds."

"But, mister, say, what hez thet stuff, which in coorse I knows on, to do with this durned old image hyar?" again interrogated the skipper, in an incredulous tone. "I guess ye air gettin' a bit kinder mixed up, an'

yer yarn don't hitch on an' run smooth like!"

"Joost zo," returned the imperturbable second-mate, in no way disturbed by this impeachment of his veracity. "You joost vait; I vas hab zometing vor to zay. Joost vait and I vas tell yous."

"Carry on then," said Captain Snaggs impatiently. "By thunder! ye air ez long gettin' under way, I guess, ez a Cape Cod pilot. Fire away, an'

be durned to ye, an' tell us the hull bilin', mister!"

Jan Steenbock, however, would not allow himself to be hurried in this fashion. Quite unmoved by the skipper's impatience, he went on in his slow, deliberate way, all of us listening with the keenest attention and steadying ourselves for a good yarn.

"It vas dree year ago dat I vas meet mit Cap'en Shackzon, of ze schgooners _Mariposa_, at Guayaquil," he began sententiously, clearing his throat, and seeming to speak in deeper and deeper tones as he proceeded with his narrative. "He vas go, he tells me, vor a drading voy'ge to ze Galapagos Islants, and vas vant a zecond-mate, and vas ask me vor to come mit hims."

"An' ye wented," interrupted the skipper--"hey?"

"Yase, I vas go! Cap'en Shackzon zays, zays he, bevore we sdart, dat ze schgooners vas to zail vor Jarls Islant, call't by ze Sbaniards 'Vloreana,' vere dere vas a lot of beeples vrom Equador dat collect ze orchilla veeds, and vas drade likevise to ze mainland mit ze hides and zalt veesh, and ozer tings."

"I reckon all thet don't consarn us, mister," said the skipper, arresting any further enumeration of the exports from Charles Island; "an' so, ye went thaar to trade, hey?"

"Nein," came Jan Steenbock's unexpected answer; "ze schgooners vas not go to Jarls Islant."

"Jee-rusalem!" exclaimed the skipper, taken aback by this naive announcement. "Then, whaar in thunder did ye go?"

"Vait, and I vas tell yous," said the other calmly, going on with his story in his own way. "Ven we vas zail vrom Guayaquil and vas at zee zome days, Cap'en Shackzon zays to me, zays he, 'I vas engage yous'--dat vas me--'vor and bekos I vas vant a man dat I can droost, mit all dis crew of gut-throat Sbaniards arount me. Can yous be zeegret and keep in ze gonfidence vat I tells you?' In ze course, I vas zay to Cap'en Shackzon 'yase;' and, den--"

"What happened?" eagerly asked Captain Snaggs; "what happened?"

"We zails to ze norzard," continued Jan, provokingly, refraining from disclosing at the moment the confidential communication he mentioned having been made to him. "We vas zail vor dree more day, and den we vas zee dat cap dere, dat Cap'en Shackzon vas zay is Cape Chalmers, and dat ze lant vas Abingdon Islant vere we vas now vas; and den he vas tell me his zeegret."

"An' thet wer what, eh, mister?" said the skipper, while all of us hung on his words, breathless now with excitement, our curiosity being aroused to the highest pitch. "Don't kep us a-waitin', thaar's a friendly c.o.o.n, fur I guess we air amost bustin' to haar what thet air secret wer!"