In Search of Treasure

No one tried to prevent him, and no one tried to rescue him. His life was forfeited by his act, and the mate, who was now bending over the captain, felt that his self-punishment was the speediest settlement of a troublesome complication.

The captain was raised and carried to his cabin. Restoratives were applied, but in vain. It soon became evident that the Italian’s thrust was fatal. Death had been instantaneous.

There was a frown on the captain’s face that made it repellent, yet natural, for his countenance in life had been seldom without it.

Mr. Forbush assumed command, as his position required. The captain’s body was sewed up in sailcloth and committed to the deep, the ex-mate reading the burial service.

Then the crew were summoned to meet the new captain.

“Men,” said Captain Forbush, “the captain’s death has made me your commander.”

There was an attempt at applause, but with a wave of his hand Mr. Forbush stopped it.

“I shall try to deserve your confidence and good will,” he continued. “Of the dead let us think and speak only in pity. He had his faults, but he has been terribly punished. It is proper for me to state, as I take command, that I shall immediately reverse the ship’s course and return to the island for Guy Fenwick and his two companions.”

Then there was a burst of approving cheers which Captain Forbush did not check.

CHAPTER XXXVI

RESCUED

Meanwhile, the three prisoners on the island were passing their time dismally enough. There was actually nothing for them to do except to seek enough of the produce of the island to sustain life.

This they were able to do, but they soon tired of their monotonous bill of fare.

“I would give something for a good New England breakfast,” said Abner Titcomb, one morning.

“Baked beans and brown bread?” suggested Guy, with a smile.

“Yes; or fishcakes, rolls, and coffee—anything substantial, instead of these sweet, cloying fruits.”

“I think I agree with you, Abner,” said Guy.

“I am sure I do,” added Luke Clark.

It may seem strange that they had never made a second visit to the place where the treasure was concealed; but it had lost its attractions for them.

They did not even speculate as to its value. It was absolutely worthless to them in their present condition.

They spent most of their time on the summit of the hill, looking out to sea in search of a ship. They felt that the Osprey would be sent back for them, but it was long to wait. If they could get off sooner, so much the better.

Abner Titcomb had a marine glass with him, and this helped them.

Once with his glass he espied a ship, a mere speck in the distance, and there was hope that it would come nearer the island.

They tried to signal it, but it was too far away, and no heed was paid to the white sailcloth that they hoisted above the hill on a branch of a tree. This was a severe disappointment.

“John Wolf was here four years without signaling a sail,” said Luke Clark, in a tone of discouragement. “There seems to be little hope for us.”

So day followed day, and each one seemed longer than the last.

They liked to sit and talk of their New England homes, and all that made them attractive. They tried to fancy how those who were dear to them were occupied.

“My father is writing his sermon for Sunday,” Guy would say on a Saturday morning. “What would he think if he could know where I am?”

“It is well he doesn’t know, since he could do you no good,” rejoined Titcomb.

“Yes; it would only make the dear old man unhappy. I don’t want him to know it till he also knows that I am safe.”

“How long is it since we were left here?” asked Luke Clark. “Have you kept the record?”

“Yes, this is the seventeenth day.”

“And we are still alive! Well that’s a comfort, any way.”

Abner Titcomb had been using his glass.

“Boys!” he said, suddenly, in a tone of excitement, “I see a sail!”

“Where?” exclaimed Guy and Luke Clark together.

Titcomb pointed in a direction east by south.

“Look again! Notice if it seems to be approaching the island.”

There was silence for five minutes.

“Yes,” he said, “it seems to be coming toward us. Here, Guy, your eyes are better than mine; take the glass, and see whether I am right.”

Guy took the glass and turned it in the direction of the ship.

“Abner! Luke!” he said, in a tremulous voice. “I think it looks like the Osprey.”

“Give me the glass—quick!” said Luke.

He took a long look seaward.

“Well, well! What do you make out?” asked Abner.

“I think Guy is right. It does look like the Osprey.”

“But it can’t be! There has not been time for her to go to Bombay and return.”

This was evident, and they felt that they could not be correct.

But half an hour later it was clear that the ship was steering for the island. An hour later all were sure that it was the Osprey.

“Let us raise our signal and then go down to the beach,” said Guy.