Spanish Doubloons

by Camilla Kenyon

  VI

  THE CAVE WITH TWO MOUTHS

  Obscure as were the directions which Hopperdown's niece hadtaken from his dying lips, one point at least was clear--thetreasure-cave opened on the sea. This seemed an immensesimplification of the problem, until you discovered that the greatwall of cliffs was honeycombed with fissures. The limestone rockof which the island was composed was porous as a sponge. You couldstand on the edge of the cliffs and watch the green water slide inand out of unseen caverns at your feet, and hear the sullen thunderof the waves that broke far in under the land.

  One of the boats which had conveyed us from the _Rufus Smith_ hadbeen left with us, and in it Mr. Shaw, with the Honorable Cuthbertand Captain Magnus, made a preliminary voyage of discovery. Thisyielded the information above set down, plus, however, thethrilling and significant fact that a cave seemingly predestined tobe the hiding-place of treasure, and moreover a cave with thespecified two openings, ran under the point which protected theanchorage on the south, connecting the cove with the sea.

  Although in their survey of the coast the voyagers had covered onlya little distance on either side of the entrance to the bay, thediscovery of this great double-doored sea-chamber under the pointturned all thoughts from further explorations. Only the Scotchmanremained exasperatingly calm and declined to admit that thetreasure was as good as found. He refused to be swept off his feeteven by Mr. Tubbs's undertaking to double everybody's money withina year, through the favor of certain financial parties with whom hewas intimate.

  "I'll wait till I see the color of my money before I reckon theinterest on it," he remarked. "It's true the cave would be alikely and convenient place for hiding the chest; the question is:Wouldn't it be too likely and convenient? Sampson would maybe notchoose the spot of all others where the first comer who had gotwind of the story would be certain to look."

  Miss Browne, at this, exchanged darkly significant glances with hertwo main supporters, and Mr. Tubbs came to the fore with an offerto clinch matters by discovering the grave of Bill Halliwell, withits marked stone, on the point above the cave within twenty-fourhours.

  "Look for it if you like," replied Mr. Shaw impatiently. "Butdon't forget that your tombstone is neither more nor less than sucha boulder as there are thousands of on the island, and buried underthe tropic growth of ninety years besides."

  Miss Browne murmured to Aunt Jane, in a loud aside, that she wellunderstood now why the eminent explorer had _not_ discovered theSouth Pole, and Aunt Jane murmured back that to her there hadalways been something so sacred about a tombstone that she couldn'thelp wondering if Mr. Shaw's attitude were really quite reverential.

  "Well, friends," remarked Mr. Tubbs, "there's them that seesnothin' but the hole in the doughnut, and there's them that see thedoughnut that's around the hole. I ain't ashamed to say that oldH. H. is in the doughnut class. Why, the Old Man himself used toremark--I guess it ain't news to some here about me bein' on theinside with most of the leadin' financial lights of the country--heused to remark, 'Tubbs has it in him to bull the market on a BlackFriday.' Ladies, I ain't one that's inclined to boast, but I jestwant to warn you not to be _too_ astonished when H. H. makesacquaintance with that tombstone, which I'm willin' to lay he doesyet."

  "Well, good luck to you," said the grim Scot, "and let me likewisewarn all hands not to be too astonished if we find that thetreasure is not in the cave. But I'll admit it is as good a placeas any for beginning the search, and there will be none gladderthan I if it turns out that I was no judge of the workings ofCaptain Sampson's mind."

  The cave which was now the center of our hopes--I say our, becausesomehow or other I found myself hoping and fearing along with therest, though carefully concealing it--ran under the point at itsfarther end. The sea-mouth of the cave was protected from the fullswell of the ocean by some huge detached rocks rising a little wayoffshore, which caught and broke the waves. The distance was aboutsixty feet from mouth to mouth, and back of this transverse passagea great vaulted chamber stretched far under the land. The walls ofthe chamber rose sheer to a height of fifteen feet or more, when abroad ledge broke their smoothness. From this ledge opened cracksand fissures under the roof, suggesting in the dim light infinitepossibilities in the way of hiding-places. Besides these, a widestretch of sand at the upper end of the chamber, which was bare atlow tide, invited exploration. At high water the sea flooded thecavern to its farthest extremity and beat upon the walls. Thenthere was a great surge and roar of waters through the passage frommouth to mouth, and at turn of tide--in hopeful agreement with thelegend--the suck and commotion of a whirlpool, almost, as the seadrew back its waves. Now and again, it was to prove, even thewater-worn pavement between the two archways was left bare, and onecould walk dry-shod along the rocks under the high land of thepoint from the beach to the cave. But this was at the very bottomof the ebb. Mostly the lower end of the cave was flooded, and theexplorers went back and forth in the boat.

  A certain drawback to boating in our island waters was the presenceof hungry hordes of sharks. You might forget them for a moment andsit happily trailing your fingers overboard, and then a huge movingshadow would darken the water, and you saw the ripple cut by adarting fin and the flash of a livid belly as the monster rolledover, ready for his mouthful. I could not but admire thethoughtfulness of Mr. Tubbs, who since his submergence on theoccasion of arriving had been as delicate about water as a cat, incommitting himself to strictly land operations in the search forBill Halliwell's tombstone.

  Owing, I suppose, to the stoniness of the soil, the woods upon thepoint were less dense than elsewhere, and made an agreeable paradeground for Mr. Tubbs and his two companions--for he was accompaniedin these daring explorations with unswerving fidelity by Aunt Janeand Miss Higglesby-Browne. Each of the three carried an umbrella,and they went solemnly in single file, Mr. Tubbs in the lead toward off peril in the shape of snakes or jungle beasts.

  "To think of what that man exposes himself to for our sakes!" AuntJane said to me with emotion. "With no protection but his ownbravery in case anything were to spring out!"

  But nothing ever did spring out but an angry old sow with a litterof piglets, before which the three umbrellas beat a rapid retreat.

  The routine of life on the island was now established for every onebut me, who belonged neither to the land nor sea divisions, butdangled forlornly between them like Mahomet's coffin. Aunt Janehad made a magnanimous effort to attach me to the umbrellacontingent, and I had felt almost disposed to accept, in order towitness the resultant delight of Miss Higglesby-Browne. But onsecond thoughts I declined, even though Aunt Jane was thus leftunguarded to the blandishments of Mr. Tubbs, preferring, like thelittle bird in the play, to flock all alone, except when theHonorable Cuthbert could escape from his toil in the cave.

  What with the genius of Cookie and the fruitfulness of our island,not to speak of supplies from the Army and Navy Stores, we livedlike sybarites, There were fish from stream and sea, cocoanuts andbananas and oranges from the trees in the clearing. I had hopes ofyams and breadfruit also, but if they grew on Leeward none of ushad a speaking acquaintance with them. Cookie did wonders with thepigs that were shot and brought in to him, though I never could sitdown with appetite to a massacred infant served up on a platter,which is just what little pigs look like,

  "Jes' yo' cas' yo' eye on dis yere innahcent," Cookie wouldrequest, as he placed the suckling before Mr. Tubbs. "Tendah as anew-bo'n babe, he am. Jes' lak he been tucked up to sleep by hismammy. Sho' now, how yo' got de heart to stick de knife in him,Mistah Tubbs?"

  It was significant that Mr. Tubbs, after occupying for a day or twoan undistinguished middle place at the board, had somehow slid intothe carver's post at the head of the table. Flanking him were thetwo ladies, so that the Land Forces formed a solid and imposingphalanx. Everybody else had a sense of sitting in outer darkness,particularly I, whom fate had placed opposite Captain Magnus.Since landing on the island, Captain Magnus had
forsworn theeffeminacy of forks. Loaded to the hilt, his knife would approachhis cavernous mouth and disappear in it. Yet when it emergedCaptain Magnus was alive. Where did it go? This was a questionthat agitated me daily.

  The history of Captain Magnus was obscure. It was certain that hehad his captain's papers, though how he had mastered the science ofnavigation sufficiently to obtain them was a problem. Though heheld a British navigator's license, he did not appear to be anEnglishman. None of us ever knew, I think, from what country heoriginally came. His rough, mumbling, unready speech might havebeen picked up in any of the seaports of the English-speakingworld. His manners smacked of the forecastle, and he wasaltogether so difficult to classify that I used to toy with thetheory that he had murdered the real Captain Magnus for his papersand was masquerading in his character.

  The captain, as Mr. Vane had remarked, was Miss Browne's own find.Before the objections of Mr. Shaw--evidently a Negative Influencefrom the beginning--had caused her to abandon the scheme. MissBrowne had planned to charter a vessel in New York and sail aroundthe Horn to the island. While nursing this project she had formedan extensive acquaintance with persons frequenting the New Yorkwater-front, among whom was Captain Magnus. As I heard her remark,he was the one nautical character whom she found sympathetic, bywhich I judge that the others were skeptical and rude. Beingsympathetic, Captain Magnus found it an easy matter to attachhimself to the expedition--or perhaps it was Violet who annexedhim. I don't know which.

  Mr. Vane used to view the remarkable gastronomic feats of CaptainMagnus with the innocent and quite unscornful curiosity of a littleboy watching the bears in the zoo. Evidently he felt that ahorizon hitherto bounded mainly by High Staunton Manor was beinggreatly enlarged. I knew now that the Honorable Cuthbert's fatherwas a baron, and that he was the younger of two sons, and that theelder was an invalid, so that the beautiful youth was quite certainin the long run to be Lord Grasmere. I had remained stolid underthis information, feelingly imparted by Aunt Jane. I had refusedto ask questions about High Staunton Manor. For already there wasa vast amount of superfluous chaperoning being done. I couldn'tspeak to the b. y.--which is short for beautiful youth--withoutViolet's cold gray eye being trained upon us. And Aunt Jane grewflustered directly, and I could see her planning an embroiderydesign of coronets, or whatever is the proper headgear of barons,for my trousseau. Mr. Tubbs had essayed to be facetious on thematter, but I had coldly quenched him.

  But Mr. Shaw was much the worst. My most innocent remark to thebeautiful youth appeared to rouse suspicion in his self-constitutedguardian. If he did not say in so many words, _Beware, dear lad,she's stringing you_! or whatever the English of that is, it wasbecause nobody could so wound the faith in the b. y.'s candid eyes.But to see the fluttering, anxious wing the Scotchman tried tospread over that babe of six-feet-two you would have thought me aman-eating tigress. And I laughed, and flaunted my indifference inhis sober face, and went away with bitten lips to the hammock theyhad swung for me among the palms--

  The Honorable Cuthbert had a voice, a big, rich, ringing baritonelike floods of golden honey. He had also a ridiculous littleukulele, on which he accompanied himself with a rhythmic strumming.When, like the sudden falling of a curtain, dusky, velvet,star-spangled, the wonderful tropic night came down, we used tobuild a little fire upon the beach and sit around it. ThenCuthbert Vane would sing. Of all his repertory, made up ofmusic-hall ditties, American ragtime, and sweet old half-forgottenballads, we liked best a certain wild rollicking song, picked up Idon't know where, but wonderfully effective on that island whereDavis, and Benito Bonito, and many another of the rovinggentry--not to mention that less picturesque villain, CaptainSampson of the _Bonny Lass_--had resorted between their flings withfortune.

  Oh, who's, who's with me for the free life of a rover? Oh, who's, who's with me for to sail the broad seas over? In every port we have gold to fling, And what care we though the end is to swing? Sing ho, sing hey, this life's but a day, So live it free as a rover may.

  Oh, who's, who's with me at Fortune's call to wander? Then, lads, to sea--and ashore with gold to squander! We'll set our course for the Spanish Main Where the great plate-galleons steer for Spain. Sing ho, sing hey, this life's but a day, Then live it free as a rover may.

  Then leave toil and cold to the lubbers that will bear it. The world's fat with gold, and we're the lads to share it. What though swift death is the rover's lot? We've played the game and we'll pay the shot. Sing ho, sing hey, this life's but a day, Then live it free as a rover may.

  "Sing ho, sing hey!" echoed the audience in a loud discordant roar.Cookie over his dishpan flinging it back in a tremendous basso.Cookie was the noble youth's only musical rival, and when he hadfinished his work we would invite him to join us at the fire andregale us with plantation melodies and camp-meeting hymns. Thenegro's melodious thunder mingled with the murmur of wind and wavelike a kindred note, and the strange plaintive rhythm of hisartless songs took one back and back, far up the stream of life,until a fire upon a beach seemed one's ancestral hearth and home.

  I realized that life on Leeward Island might rapidly become aprocess of reversion.