The Treasure of Pearls: A Romance of Adventures in California

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER IV.

  A DESERT MYSTERY.

  Upon this enjoinder of so eminently practical a nature, and thoroughlyaware of the necessity of haste, the fallen Mexican rapidly drew withhis ramrod end, upon a space of earth smoothed by his foot in itsdeerskin boot, like an antique tablet under the stylus, a map--rude,but, to a navigator, plain and ample.

  "At this point," said he, "a sunken reef trends north and south, witha break at a little bow a quarter mile from the black rock that jutsout all but flush with its ripple. Deep water in 'the pot,' and therewe anchored to ride to a submerged buoy, so that the cankerworm wouldnot attack the metal or the borer the wood--a chest, bound with yellowmetal. If it shall have broke away, its weight would only have sunk itdeep in the oyster bed, all the shells there smashed to powdery scalesby the drags. A diver will find it for you, then."

  "Now, swear to me!" he went on, forcing his weakening voice to keepan even tenor. "Swear that one-half the contents of that hiding placeshall be Ignacio Santamaria's, my brother-in-law's, who will giveenough to his sister, my Angela. And the rest--be it yours, brave andChristian heart."

  Whether he was only fostering a delusion, or accepting a commissionthat would enrich him, Gladsden nodded assent.

  "But, swear!"

  "I give you my word, as an English gentleman," said he, obstinately.

  "I am content."

  "And what is there stowed there away?" with a smile of his formerdiscredit, "Copper bolts?"

  "Pearls! The choicest from Carmen Island to Acapulco."

  "Well, that sounds natural enough. The next thing is, where shall Ifind your brother Ignacio and the rest of the family, Master PepilloSantamaria?"

  Poignant anguish rendered the other unconscious of external matterfor a period; he clutched his head with both hands as if to preventthe bones flying asunder, then recovering his senses, as the paroxysmquitted him, he said:

  "You have not far to go for my brother. As for the dear ones, they areat the old town of Guaymas. My brother is here--"

  "Here! The devil!" looking round and falling on guard.

  "At the Mound Tower." He pointed with a wavering finger to thenortheast. "Not two hours' ride, our rendezvous--a robber'srendezvous--but have no fear! Ignacio is second of the band,--remember,his sister's fortune is at stake! Call him out from among the crew--thesignal, our private signal, two meows of the catamount--Ignacio isknown as the _Gato de montes_, mark! Have mercy! Remember the pearls!My wife--my little angels! Pity!"

  Gladsden averted his gaze not to witness an agony which he could notstay relieve or bid cease. When he looked on Pepillo again, he was dead.

  As it threatened to come on dark, not only by the disappearance of thesun, but by a storm, which the seaman divined, rather than perceivedin progress, he bent a silver coin, so as to make a species of pencil,with the point at the double, and using some cigarette paper, copiedoff, "in silver point," the map which the dead pirate, _cum_ pearlfisher, _plus_ highwayman, had designed on the ground bedewed with hisblood. Whilst so employed, the Englishman repeated to himself, like ascholar beating a lesson into his brain, the instructions connectedwith this singular testament.

  Recalling his intention before the robber's appeal had distracted him,Gladsden, gun in hand, marched with a determination not to be cried"halt!" to again, towards the huge cottonwood stump, by which he markedthe scene of the Mexican standing at bay against the Apache.

  The latter's remains were there, a fresh made grave (covered withstones and brambles to prevent the attack of the quadrupedal ghoulsto which the luckless red man was consigned, in most probability),concealed don Jose de Miranda from the searcher's eyes. A fragment ofDolores' attire was all that prevented Gladsden from supposing he hadbeen the prey of an illusion as to a woman having also occupied thatnatural pedestal. To complete the puzzle a spade of North American makewas carelessly lying by the fresh mound.

  "Hilli-ho! Ahoy there!" cried the Englishman, fortified against fearof the bandits by the claim he had upon the lieutenant of the band,and caring not a jot for Indians or others, since he had his gun inshooting order.

  But save the mocking of birds there was no rejoinder.

  Afar he heard thunder, though.

  "A mound tower must be prominent," he mused, "and this thicket in atorrent rain and a tornado is worse accommodation than the toughesthighwayman must accord the bearer of an inheritance. I'll make for theMound Tower, and implore senor don El Sostenedor, of the most gloriousrobber chief What's-his-name, for a corner of his stronghold, a chunkof deer's meat, and a swig of pulque."

  He returned to the two dead men, loaded his belt with such of theirweapons as completed, not to say replete, a portable arsenal, which anAlbanian janissary would have envied, and, with the same heedlessnessas to southwestern travelling precautions which had heretoforedistinguished him, stepped manfully away from the haunt of murder. Erehe had taken half a dozen strides, he heard many a soft padded footin the bushes; the volunteer sextons of the prairie were flocking toentomb the dead in their unscrupulous maw.

  The thunder boomed more audible, and the eagle screamed defiance overthe lonely adventurer's head.