by W. W. Tarn
CHAPTER II
THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE
"Man," said the Student, "is a weird creature. He dimly remembers thathe began his evolution, not as a pair, but as a horde; and to thehorde he still seeks, forming huge crowds during his working days, andon his holidays merely transferring the same crowds in their totalityto some other place, accompanied by a great deal of purposeless noise.Apart from his crowd he apparently feels chilly, and without noiseunhappy. Nothing is more striking to the reflective mind than theabdication of civilization in the face of meaningless noises."
"Daddy," said Fiona, "I want your advice on the matter of treasurehunting. For if two go together, they don't make a crowd, and theyneedn't make a noise."
"Quote correctly," said the Student. "What Homer said was, that if youand I went to look for a treasure, I, being a mere man, would find itat once by logical processes of induction and deduction, while you,being a superior woman, were losing yourself in the quicksands of theintuitive short cut."
"Sir," said the girl, "your word is law to me. Therefore deduce."
"Persiflage," said the Student, "is not to be encouraged in youngchildren. Remember that if you were to force me to do so I might comewith you, and then I should see exactly how you bungled the thing."
"But that's what I want you to do, daddy," said Fiona.
"I don't," said the Student. "Though treasure hunting is quite anancient and respectable amusement. For treasure, some have descendedthe crater of Popocatapetl; some have dived at Tobermory; some havedug in Kensington Gardens. Alexander found a treasure at Persepolis,and Essex lost another in Cadiz harbor. The treasure of the Incas lieshid in a Peruvian ravine, known but to two Indians at a time; theplunder which Alaric took from Rome is still beneath the river whichhe diverted to guard it. No one has ever found the hoard of CaptainKidd, or the gold carried in the Venetian galleon which sailed withthe Armada and went on the rocks in this loch. The pursuit of treasureis, therefore, no doubt, for the young, a legitimate pastime."
"Daddy," said Fiona, "did one of the Armada ships really go ashorehere?"
"Yes, my dear," said the Student. "She was a great Venetian, calledafter the Madonna of the Holy Cross, and she carried the doubloonscontributed by the Church."
"That's not the treasure the old man meant," said the girl.
"It is not," said the Student. "We know all about the Venetian ship.The crew were mostly knocked on the head, but the captain brought thedoubloons ashore and hid them. He himself was saved by my ancestor forthe time being, to whom he gave a map showing the place in the cave inwhich the treasure was hidden. He never came back for it. So far,everything proceeded on approved lines. Unhappily, my ancestor was acareless sort of person, and gambled the plan away. We never heard anymore of it. It is, however, a family tradition that there was nothingon the plan to identify the cave; and as this coast, and the islandsin the loch, are honeycombed with caves, it would be of little use ifwe had it. No one knows whereabouts the galleon went ashore. On calmnights her officers may be seen swimming round the cliffs, keepingguard still over their holy gold. Angus MacEachan saw one once, andtried to speak to him; but he turned into a seal, and just looked atAngus with large patient eyes; and Angus' boat was wrecked the weekafter."
"And did you never search for the gold, daddy?" asked Fiona.
"Never, my dear," he said. "In the first place, it would mean a minuteexamination of some 170 caves. In the second place, half of the cavesare not mine. In the third place, it is not the kind of treasure Iwant. In the fourth place, I haven't time. In the fifth place, I ammorally certain it is not there now. In the sixth place, theGovernment would claim it as treasure-trove. And in the seventh andlast place, I never thought about it till you asked me."
"I'm not getting any further with _my_ treasure hunting, daddy," saidFiona. "Let's go out together and start."
"My dear," said the Student, "it's your search, not mine. It's no usemy trying to come with you. And I have a fancy that it won't beginlike that."
"Can you tell me how to begin then, daddy?" she asked.
"I suppose by taking no notice of it," he said. "It was to beginitself, wasn't it? And I have an uncomfortable suspicion that you huntthis kind of treasure by turning round and going the other way. So Ithink you'd better run out and find the Urchin, and I'll get back tomy inscriptions."
The Urchin was Fiona's principal ally; a troublesome ally, owing tohis propensity for throwing stones. She found him now on the shore,steadily bombarding a shore lark, that would move a little way out ofrange and then sit down again, affording a splendid target. Luckilythe enthusiasm of the persecutor in pursuit was well matched by theinaccuracy of his aim.
"Urchin," she called out, "if you hurt that bird the Little Peoplewill take you; I thought I'd knocked that into you all right, even ifyou _are_ English and slow in the uptake."
"All right," said the Urchin with a grin. "We conquered you, anyway."
"As a matter of fact," said the girl, "it was we who annexed you. Ifyour people were as bad shots as you, Urchin, it must have been quiteeasy. You can't hit a bird sitting."
"Can't I?" said the Urchin. "You watch." Another fling, and horrors!the shore lark rolled over, twittering helplessly and miserably.
Fiona was across the rocks like a young goat; and when the Urchin,contrite but defiant, arrived, she had the wounded bird in her handsand was holding it to her breast, feeling gently for its hurt. It layquite still, panting, and watching her with quick bright eyes.
"Broken wing," she said. "I believe it will mend. Urchin, you are amere beast. You'd better go home; I don't want ever to see you again."
The Urchin turned scarlet.
"That's just like a girl," he said. "First you tell me I can't hit theold bird, which is the same thing as telling me to hit it; and thenwhen I do hit it you turn round on me and call names; and all the timeyou're just as bad as I am." And the Urchin turned and stalked off,an heroic figure with the mien of a Marcus Curtius about to save hiscountry by leaping into the gulf. Unhappily there was a real gulf, andthe boy, head in air, rolled neatly into it, and emerged from betweentwo rocks, dripping and no longer heroic, rubbing a torn stocking anda scraped shin.
It was too much for Fiona's gravity.
"Urchin," she called, "come back here, _quick_." And as the unhappyUrchin stood in doubt, hither and thither dividing the swift mind, sheslid over the rocks and caught him. "My fault," she said, "and I'msorry all the way through. Now I'll mend you first, and then we mustmend the bird."
"And then what'll we do?" said the boy. "Let's do something harmlessfor a bit, hunt for shells or shrimps or . . ."
"Treasure," suggested Fiona, rather shyly. And by the time they hadreached the house, and she had repaired the Urchin, and disposed thewounded bird as comfortably as possible, the boy had been put inpossession of the essential facts of the case.
"Mar-vellous," was the Urchin's comment. "Now, don't you see, Fiona?you can have your treasure when we find it, and I'll have the Spanishtreasure when we find it, and there we both are. I want lots and lotsand lots of those doubloons."
"What for?" said Fiona.
"Gun," said the Urchin. "Donald Ruadh has an old gun which he wouldsell me for two pounds. He says one barrel shoots all right sometimes.And I would use the rest of the doubloons to buy cartridges, and thenI could kill curlews."
"You little wretch," said the girl. "You won't kill my curlews whileI'm about. And anyhow your old gun would probably blow you up first.And anyhow you haven't got the doubloons yet. And they're not yours ifyou do find them."
"Whose would they be?" asked the Urchin.
"I suppose my father's," said Fiona. "But it depends on which cavethey were in."
"Come on, then," said the boy. "I'm going to ask him for them."
The Student took the interruption good-humoredly.
"I am in the second century," he said. "Doubloons have not yet beencoined. As to these doubloons, I am quite sure they are not there,wherever '
there' may be; but if they are there, I have no objection tothe Urchin fighting the Government for them. Urchin, would you like adeed?"
And, to the delight of the Urchin, the Student proceeded to make out adocument, which called on all men to know that the said Studentthereby assigned to the said Urchin all the estate, right, title, andinterest, if any, of the said Student in and to a certain treasure ofdoubloons or other coins once carried in the galleon called _Our Ladyof the Holy Cross_ were the same a little more or less ("all gooddeeds get that in somewhere," said the Student) to hold to the saidUrchin and his heirs ("but I don't suppose the heirs will see much ofit") to the intent that he might become a wiser and a better Urchinand not interrupt the said Student any more when he wanted to work.This being done, the Student signed his name at the end, made abeautiful blot of hot red sealing wax and put his signet ring on it,and made Fiona sign her name as witness ("which is probably notlegal," he explained cheerfully); then he handed over the deed to therejoicing Urchin, with the remark that it was quite as good as manylawyers' deeds, and drove the pair of them out of the bookroom.
"Good," said the Urchin. "Now I've a treasure just the same as you."
"If we find them," said Fiona.
"Well, let's go and start hunting for them at any rate," said the boy.
"Pardon me," said the shore lark, "if I interrupt; but you might bethe better of a few hints."
Fiona dropped on her knees and took the little bird in her handsagain.
"So you can talk," she said. "That's jolly. You've a first-rate chanceof returning good for evil, and making us feel worms."
"Don't talk of worms," said the shore lark, "you have entirely omittedto provide me with any. Send him to get some, and I'll tell yousomething. He can't understand what I'm saying, anyhow."
"Urchin," said the girl, "he's asking for worms. Go and get him some."
"One would think you and he could talk to each other," said the boy."Silly, I call it, going on like that. I suppose that's what girlsdo."
"Urchin," said Fiona, "when you and I have a row, what happens?"
"_You_ happen," said the Urchin. "You've three years' pull; 'tisn'tfair; just like a girl, to go and have three years' pull of a chap."
"Stop grousing," said the girl, "and get me the worms, there's a dearlittle boy."
The Urchin flung the nearest book at her, missed as usual, and, havingthus made his honor white, departed, declaring in simpler languagethat the love of worms was the root of all evil.
"I can't tell you much," said the shore lark, "but one sometimes picksup things, hopping about, and I heard you say treasure. If you meanthe Venetian ship, don't start without consulting the finner. He isvery old, and I believe that he knows everything that happens in thisloch."
"I don't really mean that," said Fiona. "That's half a jest. I mean myown search, the search for the treasure of the Isle of Mist."
"We have all heard of it," said the shore lark, "and we all know thatyou cannot find it by looking for it. All I can tell you is this: thecurlews have a tradition that the last man who found it went up ahill. That is what they tell each other when they call in the spring;and I believe they know."
"They are like the spirits of the hills themselves," said Fiona."Tell me why it is I can understand you."
"I have no idea," said the shore lark. "I am only a little bird, and Idon't know very much. I chanced speaking to you because I wantedworms."
The girl slipped across into the bookroom.
"Daddy," she said, "come back out of the second century, and tell mewhy I can understand the shore lark."
The Student looked up with a patient smile in far-away eyes.
"It isn't time to come back yet," he said. "And I have not fullygrasped your meaning. You appear to refer to some conversation withsome bird. There are precedents, of course. For instance, thephilosopher Empedocles, having been a bird himself in a former life,remembered their speech; he ended by leaping into AEtna. Siegfriedalso, having bathed in the blood of Fafnir, followed the voice of abird of the wood; he ended by losing his love and his life. There wasonce a sailor who took the advice of a parrot, and was hanged. Birdsare light-minded, as the poet Aristophanes discovered; and it wouldseem that little good comes of talking to them."
"My shore lark is a darling," said Fiona. "And I don't intend to behanged."
"That," said the Student, "is as Providence pleases. One never knows,as my poor ancestor said when he fell into a bear-trap and found thebear there before him."
"O daddy," said the girl, "did he really? And what happened?"
"This ancestor of mine," said the Student, "was a very strong man. Ifhe had not been, someone else would have killed him first, and hewould not have been my ancestor; the other man would have been someoneelse's ancestor, so to speak. Being a very strong man, he naturallykilled the bear. He must have, or he would not have lived to be myancestor. In those days everyone lived in caves, and he lived in acave too; and he always killed the other man, sometimes fairly,sometimes, I regret to say, otherwise. He courted my ancestress byknocking her down from behind with the blunt end of a stone ax, amethod which I do not defend; but when her senses returned she toldhim he had acted like a man, and they became a most devoted couple.This was partly due, no doubt, to the fact that he never saw themeaning of the things she said; she took good care that he shouldn't,for though slow of wit he was handy with his ax. Their life I thinkmust have been very happy till one day he found a red stone which hecould heat and shape with his ax, and he hammered out that copperbracelet you're wearing; and then came the deluge, for metal meantmagic then, as you know. Next day my ancestress found him conversingwith the local vulture; within a week he was giving exhibitions in theother caves with the vulture's assistance; in a month he had becomethe tribal god; and about two years after, owing to the persistentfailure of some of his magic to come off, he was, for a brief moment,the tribal banquet. Now you know what comes of talking to shorelarks."
"Daddy," she said, "you can't know if that's true or not, can you?"
"It may not all be what _you_ call true," said the Student, "but it'strue in quite a lot of ways. It's true psychologically, andanthropologically, and palaeethnologically; and that does to startwith. And I certainly _had_ ancestors. And there _is_ a bracelet. Andyou _were_ talking strange words about a shore lark. And you mustreally take care, my dear daughter; for you _ought_ now to become atribal priestess, and be hurled from a high place into the sea thefirst season that the herring fail."
