In Search of Treasure

“What do you mean, Guy?”

“I will tell you. Hitherto we have kept together. Would it not be well to separate and go in different directions, meeting, say, at four o’clock? It would not be so pleasant, but I think it would multiply our chances of success.”

“I am ready for any plan that will have that result. Do you know, I dreamed of my wife and children last night?”

“That must have been pleasant.”

“No; for in my dream one of the children seemed to be very sick with a fever. I could not help thinking of what might happen during our protracted absence.”

Abner Titcomb spoke gravely, and it was easy to see that the dream had made a deep impression upon him. Not only upon him, but upon Luke Clark, to whom the same thought seemed to have come.

“If Captain Grover were in command of the Osprey, we wouldn’t feel so anxious or hurried,” he said.

“No; but we have a very different man in command.”

“True; but he would not have the courage to sail away and leave us in the lurch.”

“Suppose, however, that Frank Low’s conjecture is correct, and the man is insane?”

“Then, of course, he would be capable of anything,” said Luke Clark.

“Don’t let us brood over a danger which perhaps does not exist,” interrupted Guy. “Rather let us consult together how to succeed.”

It was decided to adopt Guy’s suggestion and separate, each of the three taking a different route, and meeting again at four o’clock. It was felt by all that there was no time to be lost.

It may be as well to explain here that each of the three was provided with a watch, so that there would be no difficulty about meeting at any hour agreed upon.

The first day on which this arrangement was carried out proved to be a long one for each member of the party. Previously they were able to converse together, and this made the time slip by more rapidly.

They met on the hill, at the place where they had found the seat already referred to.

Guy and Titcomb were the first to arrive.

“Well, Abner, what success?” asked Guy.

“None at all. I presume you have no better news to report.”

“No.”

“I wonder whether your clue—about the trees in the shape of a cross—can be depended upon?”

“If not, I shall have absolutely nothing to guide me.”

“Then let us trust that it is reliable. Well, I scanned closely every clump of trees in my wanderings, and saw nothing that answered the description.”

“Let us hope that Luke was more fortunate.”

Five minutes later Luke Clark made his appearance, coming from the west. There was an unusual expression upon his face that made Guy hopeful.

“Well, Luke,” he said, “have you discovered anything?”

“Yes,” answered Clark.

“What is it?” asked Guy, eagerly. “Not the cross?”

“No, not the cross. This is what I found.”

He drew from his pocket a small volume, looking like an account book. The cover bore the marks of exposure. It had evidently been out in the rain, but the inside pages were full of writing which was still legible.

“The book must have been left here by one of the pirates,” said Guy.

“No; not by one of the pirates, but by an unfortunate man who met the fate that we have all been dreading.”

“What do you mean, Luke?”

“I mean that the man who wrote the account which you will find in this book was left here purposely by a ship captain who had a grudge against him. So much I have gathered from the pages that I have read.”

“Sit down and read it to us. It is nearly two hours before we shall have to be on the beach to meet the boat.”

The handwriting was plain and legible, though a lead pencil had been employed. It looked very much like a schoolboy’s hand, the letters being round and well formed. The writer had evidently written slowly and deliberately.

The reading was listened to with deep interest. The story ran thus:

“I wonder whether anyone will ever read these lines which I pen in my despair. I hope so, though when they are read I shall be beyond human help. Not that I am sick. I am well in body, but so unhappy that I have made up my mind when this record is completed to throw myself into the sea and end my captivity in the only way that seems practicable.

“Four years I have lived on this island in the completest solitude. Every day I have made a notch on a tree, which I selected for the purpose, as it was the only way of keeping tally of the time. The seasons are so much alike that the changes are not sufficient to be a guide to me.

“I have just been counting the notches I have made, and I find them to number fourteen hundred and sixty. That makes exactly four years, not making account of the extra day for leap year.

“But I must not make my preface too long. Let me say, then, that in the year 187—I set sail from Liverpool for Bombay, rating as an ordinary seaman. I had made other voyages, for I have been a sailor, man and boy, for twenty years, but I had no presentiment that this was to be the last and most disastrous.

“We had a good captain, a man who understood his business, strict, and yet kind. I always liked him, and got on well with him. I may say that I never sailed under a captain whom I more highly respected. His name was Clark–”

“Your name, Luke,” suggested Guy. “I don’t understand how, under such a captain, the poor fellow could have come to grief.”

“You will see further on.”

Luke Clark continued reading:

“The mate, however, was a different man, arrogant, rough, and domineering. None of us liked him. He would have misused the sailors had the captain allowed, but Captain Clark, though a mild and good-tempered man, was one who did not permit his authority to be questioned or disputed. More than once, when the mate was on the point of abusing one of us sailors, the captain interfered and sternly reprimanded him.

“Of course, under these circumstances, the mate could not do the harm or indulge in the brutality to which his nature impelled him. This was fortunate for me, for by ill luck I had managed to incur his special ill will. Once he was on the point of striking me to the deck when Captain Clark interfered.

“The mate never forgot this. He was humiliated, for the captain had reproved him sharply in the presence of some of the crew. He often looked at me in a manner which boded me no good. Still I did not feel anxious, for I knew that Captain Clark was just and humane, and would not tolerate any abuse on the part of the mate.

“But I could not foresee the future. I did not dream what misfortune was in store for us. We were nearing Madagascar, when the captain fell sick of some mysterious disorder, and in the space of two days was dead.

“So it chanced that we sailors lost our best friend, and John Richmond became captain in his place.”