CHAPTER XXVIII
The fog held for two days. On the third morning Jeremy, on his knees bythe hearth fire, was squinting down the bright barrel of a flintlock. Hehad been quiet for a long time. Bob felt the tenseness of the situationhimself, but he could not understand the other's absolute silence. Hescowled as he sat on the floor, and savagely drove a long-bladedhunting-knife into the cracks between the hewn planks. At length a lowwhistle from Jeremy caused him to pause and look up quickly.
"What is it?" he asked.
A look of excitement was growing in Jeremy's face.
"Say, Bob!" he exclaimed, after a second or two. "I've just rememberedsomething that I've been trying to bring to mind ever since we crossedthe island. You know the sign we saw up by the spring? Well, somewhere,once before, I knew I'd seen the word 'Watter' spelled that way. So haveyou--do you remember?"
Bob shook his head slowly. Then a look of comprehending wonder came intohis eyes. "Yes," he cried. "It was on that old chart in Pharaoh Daggs'chest!"
"Right," said Jeremy. "And now that I think about it, I believe this isthe very island! Let's see--the bay was shaped this way----" He hadseized a charred stick from the hearth and was drawing on the floor.
"Two narrow points, with quite a stretch of water inside--a rounded coveup here, and a mitten-shaped cove over here. And the anchor wasdrawn--wait a minute--right here. Why, Bob, look here! That's the samerounded cove with the beach where the sloop anchored that night they gotme!"
Bob could hardly contain himself. "I remember!" he said. "And the dot,with the word 'Watter' was one and a half finger-joints northeast of thebay. Let's see, the bay itself was about four joints long, wasn't it? Ora little over? Anyhow, that would put the spring about--here."
"Allowing for our not being able to remember exactly the shape of thebay," Jeremy put in, "that's just where the spring should be. Bob, thisis the island! And now that cross-mark between the two straightlines--two finger-joints northwest of the anchorage-cove, it was. That'sjust about here." He marked the spot on the floor with his stick.
"Now we've got it all down. And if that cross-mark shows where thetreasure is----" Jeremy paused and looked at Bob, his eyes shining.
"Where would that be--up on the hill somewhere?" asked Bob breathlessly.
"About three-quarters of a mile south of the spring--right on theridge," Jeremy answered.
"When shall we start?" Bob asked, his voice husky with excitement.
"Wait a bit," counselled Jeremy. "We daren't tell father or Tom, forthey'd think it just a wild-goose chase, and we'd have to promise not toleave the cabin. You know it _is_ an improbable sort of yarn. Besides,we'd better go careful. Do you know who I think is at the head of thatcrew, over in the creek?"
"Who?" whispered Bob.
Jeremy's face was pale as he leaned close.
"Pharaoh Daggs!" He said the name beneath his breath, almost as if hefeared that the man with the broken nose might hear him. And now for thefirst time he told Bob of the schooner that had slipped past in the darkthat night in the East River.
"You're right, Jeremy," Bob agreed. "He'd lose no time getting up hereif he could find a craft to carry him. You don't suppose they've foundBrig's treasure yet, do you?" he added in dismay.
"They can't have reached here more than a day before us," Jeremyreplied. "And if they haven't it already aboard, they won't be able todo anything while this fog holds. If it should lift tomorrow, we'llhave a chance to scout around up there. But don't say a word to father."
That night the boys slept little, for both were in a fever ofexpectation. They were disappointed in the morning to see the solid wallof fog still surrounding the cabin. But Jeremy, sniffing the air likethe true woodsman that he was, announced that there would be a change ofweather before night, and set about rubbing the barrel of the flintlocktill it gleamed. The day dragged slowly by. At last, about three in theafternoon, a slight wind from the northeast sprang up, and the wreathsof vapor began to drift away seaward.
Luckily for the boys' plans, both Tom and his father were inside thesheep-stockade when Bob took the pistols, powder and shot down from thewall, and with Jeremy went quietly forth.
Before the mist had wholly cleared, they were well into the woods,climbing toward the summit of the ridge. Each kept a careful watchabout, for they feared the possibility that a guard might have been setto observe movements at the cabin.
They reached the top without incident, however, and turned westwardalong the watershed. They were increasingly careful now, for if thepirates were dependent on the spring for their water, some of them mightpass close by at any moment. Bob, who was almost as expert a hunter asJeremy, followed noiselessly in the track of the New England boy, movinglike a shadow from tree to tree.
So they progressed for fifteen minutes or more. Then Jeremy paused andbeckoned to Bob, whispering that they should separate a short distanceso as to cover a wider territory in their search. They went on, Bob onthe north slope, Jeremy on the south, moving cautiously and examiningevery rock and tree for some blaze that might indicate the whereaboutsof the treasure.
More minutes passed. The sun was already low, and Jeremy began to thinkabout turning toward home. Just then he came to the brink of a narrowchasm in the ledge. Hardly more than a cleft it was, three or four feetwide at its widest part, and extending deep down between the walls ofrock. He was about to jump over and proceed when his eye caught amomentary gleam in the obscurity at the bottom of the crevice. He peereddownward for a second, then stood erect, waving to Bob with both arms.
The other boy caught his signal and came rapidly through the trees tothe spot, hurrying faster as he saw the excitement in Jeremy's face.
"What--what have you found?" he gasped under his breath.
Jeremy was already wriggling his way down between the smooth rock walls,bracing himself with back and knees. Within a few seconds he hadreached the bottom, some ten feet below. It was a sloping, uneven floorof earth, lighted dimly from above and from the south, where the ledgeshelved off down the hillside. The dirt was black and damp, undisturbedfor years save by the feeble pushing of some pale, seedling plant.Jeremy groped aimlessly at first, then, as his eyes became accustomed tothe half-light, peered closely into the crevices along either side.
Bob leaned over the edge, pointing. "Back and to the left!" hewhispered. Jeremy turned as directed, felt along the earth and finallyclutched at something that seemed to glitter with a yellow light. Heturned his face upward and Bob read utter disappointment in his eyes.
The gleaming something which he held aloft was nothing but a bit ofdiscolored mica that had reflected the faint light.
Bob almost groaned aloud as he looked at it. Then he took off his beltand passed an end of it down for Jeremy to climb up by. The latter tookhold half-heartedly, and was commencing the ascent when his moccasinedfoot slipped on a low, arching hump in the damp earth. He went down onone knee and as it struck the ground there was a faint hollow thud.Astonished, the boy remained in a kneeling posture and felt aboutbeneath him with his hands.
"What is it?" whispered Bob.
Jeremy stood erect again. "Some kind of old, slippery wet wood," heanswered. "It feels like--like a barrel!"
"I'm coming down!" said the Delaware boy, and casting a cautious lookaround, he descended into the depths of the crevice.
With their hands and hunting-knives both boys went to work feverishly tounearth the wooden object. A few moments of breathless labor laid barethe side and part of one end of a heavily-built, oaken keg.
"Now maybe we can lift it out," said Jeremy, and taking a strong grip ofthe edge, they heaved mightily together. It stirred a bare fraction ofan inch in its bed. "Again!" panted Jeremy, and they made anotherdesperate try. It was of no avail. The keg seemed to weigh hundreds ofpounds.
Mopping his forehead with his sleeve, Bob stood up and looked hiscompanion in the face. "Well," he grinned, "the heavier the better!""Right!" Jeremy agreed. "But how'll we get it home? We don't dare c
hopit open--too much noise--or set fire to it, for they'd see the smoke.Besides it's too damp to burn. Here--I'll see what's in it, yet!"
He crouched at the end of the barrel, whetted his hunting-knife on hispalm a few times, and began to cut swiftly at a crack between twostaves. Gradually the blade worked into the wood, opening a long narrowslot as Jeremy whittled away first at one side, then at the other. Fromtime to time either he or Bob would stoop, trembling with excitement topeer through the crack, but it was pitch-dark inside the barrel.
Jeremy kept at his task without rest, and as his knife had more play,the shavings he cut from the sides of the opening grew thicker andthicker. First he, then Bob, would try, every few seconds, to thrust afist through the widening hole.
At length Bob's hand, which was a trifle smaller than Jeremy's, squeezedthrough. There was a breathless instant, while he groped within the keg,and then, with a struggle he pulled his hand forth. In his fingers heclutched a broad yellow disc.
"Gold!"
They gasped the word together.
Bob's face was awe-struck. "It's full of 'em--full of pieces like this,"he whispered, "right up to within four inches of the top!"
They bent over the huge gold coin. The queer characters of theinscription, cut in deep relief, were strange to both boys. Jeremy hadseen Spanish doubloons and the great double _moidores_ of Portugal, butnever such a piece as this. It was nearly two inches across and thickand heavy in proportion.
One after another Bob drew out dozens of the shining coins, and theyfilled their pockets with them till they felt weighted down. At lengthJeremy, looking up, was startled to see that the sun had set anddarkness was rapidly settling over the island. They threw dirt over thebarrel, then with all possible speed clambered forth, and taking uptheir guns, made their way home as quietly as they had come.