CHAPTER XIX.
CAPTAIN COFFIN'S LOG.
As she severed the string the roll fell open and disclosed itself asa book of small quarto shape, bound in limp parchment, with stringsto tie the covers together. Its pages, measuring 9 and 3/4 by 8 in.,were 64, and numbered throughout; but a bare third of them werewritten on, and these in an unformed hand which yet was eloquent ofmuch. A paragraph would start with every letter drawn as carefullyas in a child's copy-book; would gradually straggle and let its wordsfall about, as though fainting by the way; and so would tail intoincoherence, to be picked up--next day, no doubt--by a new effort,which, after marching for half a dozen lines, in its turn collapsed.There were lacunae, too, when the shaking hand had achieved but a fewweak zigzags before it desisted. The two last pages were scribbledover with sums--or, to speak more correctly, with combinations offigures resembling sums. Here is a single example--
Ode to W. Bate
To bacca 9 and 1/2d Haircutt 1s Bliddin[1] ...... 18d. To more bacca Oct. 10th do. Ditto and shave ditto ditto ----------------- Mem. do. to him 2s. 6d.
The fly-leaf started bravely with "D. Coffin, His Book." After thisthe captain had fallen to practising his signature by way of start."D. Coffin," "Danl. Coffin," "Danyel Coffin," over and over, andonce "D. Coffin, Esq.," followed by "Steal not this Book for fear ofshame."
Danl. Coffin is my name England is my nation Falmth ditto ditto dwelling-place And hopes to see Salvation.
After these exercises came a blank page, and then, halfway down thenext, abruptly, without title, began the manuscript which I will callCaptain Coffin's statement.
"Pass it to Lydia," said Mr. Rogers. "She reads like a parson."
"Better than most, I hope," said Miss Belcher, taking the book; andthis--I omit the faults of spelling--is what she read aloud--
Mem. Began this August 15th, 1812.Mem. Am going to tell about the treasure, and what happened. But itwill be no use without the map. If any one tries to bring uptrouble, this is the truth and nothing else. Amen. So be it.Signed, D. Coffin.
My father followed the sea, and bred me to it. He came fromDevonshire, near Exmouth. N.B.--He used to say the Coffins were agreat family in Devonshire, and as old as any; but it never did himno good. He was an only son, and so was I, but I had an oldersister, now dead. She grew up and married a poultryman in QuayStreet, Bristol. I remember the wedding. Died in childbed a yearlater, me being at that time on my first voyage.
We lived at Bristol, at the foot of Christmas Stairs, left-hand sidegoing up, two doors from the bottom. My mother from Stonehouse,Gloster, where they make cloth, specially red cloth for soldiers'coats. Her maiden name Daniels. She was a religious woman, andtaught me the Bible. My father was lost at sea, being knockedoverboard by the boom in half a gale, two miles S.W. of Lundy.I was sixteen at the time, and apprentice as cabin-boy on board thesame ship, the _Caroline_, bound from Hayle to Cardiff with copperore. I went home and broke the news to my mother, and she told methen what I didn't know before, that she was very poorly providedfor. I will say this, that I made her a good son; and likewise, thatI never had no luck till I struck the Treasure.
I was born in the year 1750. My father's death happened 1766.From that time till my twenty-seventh year, I supported my mother.She died of a seizure in 1777, and is buried by St. Mary's Redclyf--we having moved across the water to that parish. Married next year,Elizabeth Porter, in service with Soames Rennalls, Esquire, Aldermanof the City. She had been brought up an orphan by the ColstonCharity; a good pious woman, and bore me one child, a daughter,christened Ann--a dear little one. She lived and throve up to theyear 1787, me all the time coming and going on voyages, mostlycoasting, too numerous to mention. Then the small-pox carried heroff with my affectionate wife, the both in one week. At which Icursed all things, and for several years ran riot, not caring what Isaid or did.
Was employed, from 1790 on, in the slave trade, by W. S., merchant ofBristol. Must have made as many as a dozen passages before leavinghim and shipping on the _Mary Pynsent_, Pink, Bristol-owned by a newcompany of adventurers. She was an old boat, and known to me, butnot the whole story of her. I signed as mate. We were bound for theW. Coast, about 50 leagues E. of Cape Corse Castle, with gunpowderand old firearms for the natives, that were most always at war withone another. Ran coastwise and touched at three or four places onthe way, and at each of them peddled powder and muskets, the musketsbeing most profitable, by reason the blacks have no notion ofrepairing a gun. So we, carrying a gunsmith on board, bought up atone place the guns that wanted repairs, and sold them at the next fornew pieces. In this way we came to our destination, which was themouth of a river full of slime and mosquitoes, and called the PopoRiver. There a whole tribe of niggers put out to receive us.
They knew the _Mary Pynsent_, and worse luck. Her last trip, whenowned by Mr. W. S., aforesaid, she had sold them 1500 kegs of siftedsea-coal dust, passing it off for gunpowder, and had made off with7000 pounds worth of gold dust, besides ivory, _white and black_,before they discovered the trick. We being without knowledge of whathad happened, and having real gunpowder to sell, let the niggersswarm on board, and welcome. Whereupon, in revenge for past usage,they attacked us on the spot and clubbed all the crew but me, thatwas getting out the boat under the seaward quarter and baling her,but dived as soon as the murder began, and swam to the shore.The shore was mudbanks and reeds and mangroves, and all sweating withheat and mosquitoes. I spent that day in hiding. Towards sunset thesavages rafted a good third of the cargo ashore, and, having stackedthe kegs and built a fire about them, started to dance, making asilly mock of the powder, till it blew up. Which it did, and musthave killed hundreds.
I heard the noise of it at about two miles' distance, having creptout of my hiding when I saw them busy, and started to tramp it alongshore to Cape Corse Castle. I had no food, and must have died butthat next morning I fell in with a tribe that seemed pleased to seeme; which was lucky, me having no strength left to run. They took meto their kraal, a mile inland, and to a hut where was a man lying ina fever. He was a man covered with dirt and vermin, but at firstsight of his face I knew him to be a white man and English.Ever since my first voyage to these parts I carried a small box in mypocket, filled with bark of Peru, which is the best cure for coastfever. I took out some of this bark and managed to make myselfunderstood that I wanted a fire lit and some water fetched; boiled upthe bark and made him drink it. After that I nursed him for threedays before he died.
The second day he sits up and says in English: "Who are you?"So I told him. Then he says: "Why are you doing this for me?You wouldn't do it if you knew who I am." "I'd do it," I said, "ifyou were the devil." "I am next door to him," he says. "I amMelhuish, of the Poison Island Treasure." "I never heard of it,"said I. "There's others call it the Priests' Treasure," says he;"and if you have never heard of it, you cannot have sailed anywherenear the Bay of Honduras." "Never in my life," I said. "My businesshas lain along the coast for years. But what of it?" "What of it?"he says, sitting up, his eyes all shining with the fever, "why,nothing, except that I am one of the richest men in the world."I set this down to raving. "You don't believe me?" he asks aftersome time. "Why," I answers him, "this is a funny sort of place fora nabob, and that you must allow; not to mention," I adds, "that fromhere to Honduras is a long step." "You fool!" said he, "that is thevery reason of it. I don't believe in a hell on the t'other shore ofthis life, whatever your views may be. You go to sleep and have donewith it--that's my belief. But I believe in hell upon earth, becauseI have lived in it. And I believe in a devil upon earth, because Ilived months in his company; but he can't be as clever as the priestsmake out, because I came here to hide from him, and hidden I have."
; With that he fell into cursing and raving, but after a time he grewquiet again, and said he: "Daniel Coffin, if that is your name,there's hundreds of thousands of men walking this world would envyyou at this moment. And why? Because I can make you richer than anyLord Mayor in his coach; and, what's more, I will."
He said no more that evening, but next day woke up in his wits, andasked me to slip a hand under his pillow and take out what I foundthere. Which I took out a piece of parchment. He said: "Coffin, Iam going to be as good as my word. That there which you hold in yourhand is a map of the Island of Mortallone, where the treasure lies.I will tell you how I come by it.
"My home," he said, "was St. Mary's, in Newfoundland, which is but asmall harbour and a few wood houses gathered about a factory.The factory belonged to a firm at Carbonear, and employed, one wayand another, all the people in the place, in number less than twohundred. The women worked at the fish-curing, along with thechildren and some old men, but the able-bodied men belonged mostly tothe Labrador fleet, or manned a two-three small vessels that maderegular voyages to the Island of St. Jago to fetch home salt for thepickling. My mother, besides working at the factory, kept aboarding-house for seamen. In this she was helped by my only sister,a middle-aged woman and single. My mother was a widow. She kept herhouse very respectable, but the business was slight, the town beingempty of men most of the year.
"In the autumn of 'ninety-eight, arriving home with salt as usualfrom St. Jago, I found a stranger lodging in the house. He had comeover from Carbonear with a party of clerks, and had taken a fancy tothe place--or so he said; besides which, it had been recommended tohim for his health, which was delicate. He was a common-spoken man,aged between fifty and sixty, and looked like a skipper that hadhauled ashore; but he never talked about the sea in my hearing, andhe never mixed with the few seamen who came to the house. He renteda separate room and kept to it. His habits were simple enough, andhis manner very quiet and friendly, though he spoke as little as hecould help, unless to my sister. My mother liked him because he paidhis way and seemed content with whatever food was put before him.The only thing he complained about was the cold.
"I had been at home for three weeks and a little more when oneevening, as I was passing downstairs from my bedroom in the attic,this Mr. Shand--that was the name he gave us--called me into his roomand showed me a small bird he had picked up dead on the beach.He did not know its name, and I was too ignorant to tell him.He stood there looking at it under the lamp when my sister cameupstairs with a note and word that the messenger was waiting outsidefor an answer. Mr. Shand took the note and read it under the lamp.Then he turned to the fire, and stood with his back to us for amoment. I saw him drop the note into the fire. He faced round to usagain and said he to my sister: 'Mary, my dear, here is something Iwant you to keep for me. Do not look at it to-night; and when youdo, show it to no one but your brother here.' With that he gave herthe very packet you have in your hand, shook hands with us both, andwent downstairs. We never saw him again. The weather was thick,with some snow falling, and the snow increased towards midnight.We waited up till we were tired, but he did not return that night orthe next day. Three days later his body was found in a drift ofsnow, halfway down a cliff to the west of the town. The right legand arm were broken and two ribs on the same side."
I asked: "Who was the man that brought the message?" Melhuish said:"My sister could not tell, except that he was a stranger.She supposed he belonged to one of two ships that had arrived inharbour the day before. She saw nothing of his face to remember; hisjacket-collar being turned up against the snow, and the flaps of hisfur cap pulled down over his ears."
I asked: "Did the man's chest tell nothing when you came to examineit?" Melhuish said: "Nothing at all. It was full of new clothes,and very good clothes; but they had no mark upon them, and, besidesthe clothes, there was not so much as a scrap of paper."
He went on: "About two weeks later there called a clerk from thefactory to claim the chest, the firm having acted as Mr. Shand'sagents. He was a foreign-looking man, and older than most of theclerks employed by Davis and Atchison--which was the firm's name.He gave his own name as Martin. He had been sent over from Carbonearabout ten days before to teach the factory a new way of treatingseal-pelts by means of chemicals. We learnt afterwards that heearned good wages. He had brought two hands from the factory tocarry the chest, which we gave up to him as soon as he presented aletter from Mr. Hughes, the firm's chief agent. He said: 'Is thisall you have?' And we said, 'Yes.' We Kept quiet about the map,which we had examined, but could not make head nor tail of it.He went away with the chest, and we heard no more of the matter.The winter closing in, I took service in the factory. I used to runagainst this Martin almost every day, but being my superior he nevergot beyond nodding to me.
"So it went on, that winter. The next spring I sailed with thesalting fleet as usual. I was mate by this time, and had learned tonavigate. I came back, to find Martin seated in the parlour andtalking, and my mother told me he had asked my sister to marry him.They had met at the factory and fixed it up between them.He appeared to be very fond of my sister, who was usually reckoned aplain-featured woman, and there couldn't be a doubt she was fond ofhim. Later on, I heard that she had told him all about the chart,but had not shown it to him, being afraid to do so without my leave.
"He opened the subject himself about a week later, during which Ihad become very thick with him. He said that, in his belief, therewas money in it, and I was a fool not to take it up. I answered,What could I do? He said there was ways and means that a lad ofspirit ought to be able to discover. With that he talked no more ofit that day, but it cropped up again, and by little and little he soworked me up that I took to dreaming of the cursed thing.
"This went on for another fortnight, during which time he told me adeal about himself, very frank--as that he was the son of an Englishsea-captain and a Spanish woman, and was born in Havana; that he hadbeen educated by the Jesuits, who had meant to make a priest of him;that, not being able to abide the Spaniards, he had chased over toPort Royal and studied chemistry in the college there. It was there,he said, he had discovered a preparation for curing the hides ofanimals so that the hair never dropped off, but remained as firm andfresh as life. He told me that for this secret Davis and Atchisonpaid him better than any of their clerks.
"At the end of a fortnight he sailed for Carbonear. He returned as Iwas making ready for the summer trip, and laid a scheme before methat took my breath away. He had spoken to Mr. Atchison, the juniorpartner, and engaged a schooner, the _Willing Mind_; likewise a crew.I was to command her, being the only one of the lot that understoodnavigation. For the crew he had picked up a mixed lot at Carbonearand St. John's--good seamen, but mostly unknown to one another.They were the less likely, he said, to smell out our purpose until wereached the island, and for the rest I might trust to him. He hadlaid our plans before Mr. Atchison, who approved. If I listened tohim without arguing, he would make my fortune and my sister's aswell.
"I had never met a man of his quality before. I was a young fool,yet not altogether such a fool but I had persuaded my sister to handthe map over to me, and wore it always about me. She told me thatshe had shown it twice to Martin, but never for more than two minutesat a time, and had never let it go out of her hands. I wonder nowthat he didn't murder her for it; and the only reason must be that hereckoned to use me for navigating the ship, and then to get rid ofme.
"A fool I was even to the extent of letting him talk me over when Ifound he had engaged twelve hands for the cruise. There was noreason on earth for this number except that these were the gang afterthe treasure, and that he was playing with the lot of them, same aswith me.
"The upshot was that we said goodbye to my mother and sister, andcrossed over to Carbonear, where I made acquaintance with my crew.The number of them raised no suspicion in the port, because it wastaken for granted the _Willing Mind_, an old salt ship, was bound forSt. Jago,
where ten or a dozen hands are nothing unusual to work thesalt; and this was the argument he had used to make me carry so many.Our pretence was we were all bound for St. Jago, and the crew seemedto take this for understood. I didn't like their looks. Martin saidthey were an ignorant lot, and chosen for that reason. All I had todo was to run south, and he undertook to give them the slip at thefirst point we touched.
"He had a wonderful command over them, considering that he was butone plotter in a dozen; and for reasons of his own he kept them offme and the map. On our way he proposed to me that I should teach hima little navigation; helped me take the reckonings; and picked it upas easy as a child learns its letters. But his keeping watch over meand the map was what broke up the crew's patience. I was holding theschooner straight down for the Gulf of Honduras, and, by myreckoning, within a few hours of making a landfall, wondering all thewhile that they took the courses I laid without grumbling--though bythis time our course was past all explaining--when the quarrel brokeout.
"I was standing by the wheel with a seaman, Dick Hayling by name, acivil fellow, and more to my liking than the most of them, when weheard a racket in the forecastle, and by-and-by Martin--he was toofond, to my taste of going down into the forecastle and making freewith the men--comes up the hatchway, very serious, with half a dozenbehind him.
"'Melhuish,' says he, 'there's trouble below. The men will have itthat we are steering for treasure. I tell them that, if you are,they are bound to know as soon as we sight it, and neither you norI--being two to twelve--can prevent their having the game in theirown hands. I have told them, over and above this,' he went on,pitching his voice loud--but having his back towards them he winkedat me--'that by your reckoning we shall sight land in a few hours atthe farthest, and are willing to serve out a double tot of rum; that,as soon as ever land is sighted, you will call all hands aft and tellthem our intention, as man to man; and that then, if they have amind, they can elect whatever new captain they choose.'
"The impudence of this took me fair between wind and water. I saw,of course, that I was trapped, and naturally my first thought was tosuspect the man speaking to me. I looked at him, and he winkedagain, not seeming one bit abashed.
"'You may tell them,' said I, with my eyes on his face, 'that as soonas we sight land I shall have a statement to make to them.'I wondered what it would be; but I said it to gain time. 'As for therum,' I went on, 'they can drink their fill. If we sight land, Iwill steer the ship in.'
"'Better go and draw the liquor yourself,' said he, and, picking up aship's bucket, came aft to me. 'The second barrel in the afterhold,'he whispered. 'And don't drink any yourself.'
"I nodded, as careless as I could. It seemed a rash thing to go downto the afterhold, where any one might batten me down. But, therebeing no help for it, I took the bucket and went. I filled it wellup to the brim from the second cask, returned to deck, and handed itto the man who stood behind Martin. They took it, prettyrespectfully, and went below, Martin still standing amidships, wherehe had stood from the first.
"'And now,' said I, turning back to him, 'perhaps you will explain.'
"'Keep your eye on the helmsman,' was his answer, 'and pistol him ifhe gives trouble.'
"He walked forward and stood leaning over the forehatch, seeming tolisten." . . .
[1] Qy. "Bleeding."
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