Spanish Doubloons

by Camilla Kenyon

  XXI

  THE BISHOP'S CHEST

  W3 waited nine days for the coming of the _Rufus Smith_. Duringthat time an episode occurred as a result of which I sat onemorning by myself on the rocks beside the sloop, on which suchardent hopes had been centered, only like the derelict itself to bewrecked at last. It was a lonely spot and I wanted to be alone. Ifelt abused, and sad, and sore. I realized that I was destined todo nothing but harm in this world, and to hurt people I was fondof, and be misunderstood by every one, and to live on--if I wasn'tlucky enough to meet with a premature and sudden end--into a sour,lonely, crabbed old age, when I would wish to goodness I hadmarried anybody, and might even finish by applying to a MatrimonialAgency.

  As I sat nursing these melancholy thoughts I heard a footstep. Idid not look up--for I knew the footstep. I should have known itif it had trodden over my grave.

  "I take it you are not wanting company, you have come so far out ofthe way of it," said Dugald Shaw.

  Still I did not look up.

  "Nobody seemed to want _me_," I remarked sulkily, after a pause.He made no reply, but seated himself upon the rocks. For a littlethere was silence.

  "Virginia," he said abruptly, "I'm thinking you have hurt the lad."

  "Oh," I burst out, "that is all you think of--the lad, the lad!How about me? Don't you suppose it hurt me too?"

  "No," he made deliberate answer. "I was not sure of that. Ithought maybe you liked having men at your feet."

  "Liked it? Liked to wound Cuthbert--_Cuthbert_? Oh, if only ithad not happened, if we could have gone on being friends! It wasall my fault for going with him into the cave. It was after youhad buried the skeleton, and I wanted to see poor Peter'sresting-place. And we spoke of Helen, and it was all frightfullymelancholy and tender, and all at once he--he said it. And I meanthe never should!" In the soreness of my heart I began to weep.

  "There, lassie, there, don't cry!" he said gently. "The boy didn'tspeak of it, of course. But I knew how it must be. It has hit himhard, I am afraid."

  "I suppose," I wept, "you would have had me marry him whether Iwanted to or not, just to keep from hurting him."

  "No," he answered quickly. "I did not say that--I did not say thatI would have had you marry him. No, lass, I did not say that."

  "Then why are you scolding me?" I asked in a choked whisper.

  "Scolding you? I was not. It was only that--that I love thelad--and I wish you both so well--I thought perhaps there was somemistake, and--it would not matter about me, if I could see you bothhappy."

  "There is a mistake," I said clearly. "It is a great mistake,Dugald Shaw, that you should come to me and court me--for some oneelse."

  There was silence for a while, the kind of silence when you hearyour heartbeats.

  When he spoke his voice was unsteady.

  "But the boy has everything to offer you--his ancient name, hissplendid unstained youth, a heart that is all loyalty. He isstrong and brave and beautiful. Virginia, why couldn't you lovehim?"

  "I could not love him," I replied, very low, "because my love wasnot mine any more to give. It belongs to--some one else. Is hisname ancient? I don't know. It is his, and he ennobles it.Cuthbert has youth, but youth is only promise. In the man I love Ifind fulfilment. And he is loyal and brave and honest--I am afraidhe isn't beautiful, but I love him the better for his scars--"

  After that I sat quite still, and I knew it depended on the nexthalf minute whether I went all the days of my life crowned andglorious with happiness, or buried my shame and heartbreak underthe waters of the cove.

  And then Dugald Shaw took me in his arms.

  By and by he said huskily:

  "Beloved, I had no right to ask you to share such a life as minemust be--the life of a poor sailor."

  At this I raised my head from its nestling-place and laughed.

  "Ask me? Silly, I asked you! Of course you could have refused me,but I depended on your not having the courage."

  "And indeed that is a charge I'll not allow--that I am so little ofa man as to let my courting be done for me. No, no, it was my lovecompelling you that made you speak the words you did--the love of aselfish man who should have thought only of shielding you from thehardships of such a wandering, homeless life as mine."

  "Well, Heaven reward you for your selfishness," I said earnestly."I am thankful you were not so noble as to let me throw myself atyour head in vain. I have been doing it for ever so long, in fact,but it is such a thick Scotch head that I dare say I made noimpression."

  "Sweet imp! You'll pay for that--oh, Virginia, if I had onlysomething to offer you!"

  "You can offer me something that I want very much, if you will, andat no cost but to your strong right arm."

  "It is an arm which is at your service for life--but what am I todo with it now? And indeed I think it is very well employed atthis moment."

  "But it must be employed much more strenuously," I remarked, movinga little away, "if you are to get me what I want. Before you came,I was meditating possible ways of getting it for myself. I wantedit for a melancholy relic--a sort of mausoleum in which all myhopes were buried. Now its purpose is quite different; it is to bemy bride's chest and hold the dowry which I shall bring to oneDugald Shaw."

  "You mean _the_ chest--the chest that held the Spanishdoubloons--that lies under the sand in the sloop?"

  "Exactly. And now I shall know whether you are the true prince ornot, because he always succeeds in the tasks he undertakes to winthe princess."

  It was low tide, such a tide as had all but lured me to my death inthe cave. One could go and come from the beach along the rocks,without climbing the steep path up the cliff. It was not longbefore Dugald was back again with spade and pick. He tore off theshrunken, sun-dried boards from the cabin roof, and fell to work.

  It was not, after all, a labor of Hercules. The cabin was smalland the chest large. I watched with the pride of proprietorshipthe swift ease with which the steel-sinewed arms of the Scot madethe caked sand fly. Then the spade struck something which sentback a dull metallic sound through the muffling sand.

  I gave a little shriek of excitement. Hardly could I have beenmore thrilled if I had believed the chest still to contain thetreasure of which it had been ravished. It was filled to itsbrass-bound lid with romance, if not with gold.

  A little more and it lay clear to our view, a convex surface ofdark smoky brown, crossed by three massive strips of tarnishedbrass. Dugald dug down until the chest stood free to half itsheight; then by its handles--I recognized the "great hand-wroughtloops of metal," of the diary--we dragged it from its bed, and drewit forth into the cockpit.

  For a little while we sat before it in happy contemplation. It wasindeed for its own sake quite well worth having, that sturdy oldchest. Even in an antique shop I should have succumbed to it atonce; how much more when we had dug it up ourselves from a wreckedsloop on a desert island, and knew all its bloody and delightfulhistory.

  At length, kneeling before it, I raised with an effort the heavylid.

  "Empty, of course--no more brown bags. But oh, Dugald, had ever agirl such a wonderful bride's chest as this? O--oh!"

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, only there is a crack in the bottom, running all the wayalong where it joins the side."

  "Warped a bit, I suppose. No matter, it can be easilyrepaired--crack? I say, lassie, look here!"

  Under the pressure of Dugald's fingers the floor of the chest wasswinging upward on an invisible hinge. Between it and the truebottom was a space of about three inches in depth. It seemed to befilled with a layer of yellowed cotton-wool.

  For a long moment we held our breath, gazing at each other witheyes which asked the same question. Then Dugald lifted a corner ofthe sheet of cotton and plucked it away.

  At once all the hues of the rainbow seemed to be flashing andsparkling before us. Rubies were there like great drops of theblood that the chest and its treasure had wrun
g from the hearts ofmen; sapphires, mirroring the blue of the tropic sky; emeralds,green as the island verdure; pearls, white as the milk of thecocoanuts and softly luminous as the phosphorescent foam whichbroke on the beach in the darkness. And there were diamonds thatcaught gleams of all the others' beauty, and then mocked them witha matchless splendor.

  Some of the stones lay loose upon their bed of cotton; others werein massive settings of curious old-time workmanship. Every gem wasof exceptional size and beauty, the pearls, I knew at once, werethe rarest I had ever looked upon. They were strung in a necklace,and had a very beautiful pendant of mingled pearls and diamonds.

  There were nine heavy bracelets, all jewel-set; twenty-three rings,eight of them for the hand of a man. Some of these rings containedthe finest of the diamonds, except for three splendid unset stones.There were numbers of elaborate old-fashioned earrings, tworope-like chains of gold adorned with jewels at intervals, andseveral jeweled lockets. There was a solid gold snuff-box,engraved with a coat of arms and ornamented with seventeen fineemeralds. There were, besides the three diamonds, eighty-two unsetstones, among them, wrapped by itself in cotton, a ruby ofextraordinary size and luster. And there was a sort of coronet ortiara, sown all over with clear white brilliants.

  There is the inventory, not entirely complete, of the treasurewhich we found hidden under the false bottom of the chest, atreasure whose existence none of those who had striven and slainand perished for the sake of the Spanish doubloons can havesuspected. The secret of it died with the first guardian of thechest, the merchant of Lima who went overboard from the _BonnyLass_ on that stormy night ninety years ago. Now sea and sun andsand had done their work and warped the wood of the chest enough tomake us masters of its mystery. And we sat in the sand-heapedcock-pit of the wrecked sloop, playing like children with oursparkling toys.

  Ours? Yes, for whether or not there were an infection of piracy inthe very air of the island, so that to seize with the high hand, tohold with the iron grasp, seemed the law of life, we decidedwithout a qualm against the surrender of our treasure-trove to itstechnical owners. Technical only; for one felt that, in essence,all talk of ownership by this man or that had long ago become idle.Fate had held the treasure in fee to give or to withhold. SenorGonzales had had his chance at the chest, and he had missed thesecret of the hidden hoard, had left it to lie forgotten under thesand until in some tropic storm it should be engulfed by the watersof the cove. More than this, had he not most specifically madeover to me the _Island Queen_ and all that it contained? This wasa title clear enough to satisfy the most exacting formalist. Andwe were not formalists, nor inclined in any quibbling spirit toquestion the decrees of Fortune. As treasure-hunters, we had beenher devotees too long.

  So after all it was not my scornful skepticism but the high faithof Miss Higglesby-Browne which was justified by the event, and theHarding-Browne expedition left the island well repaid for its toilsand perils. Plus the two bags of doubloons, which were added tothe spoils, the treasure brought us a sum so goodly that I dare notname it, for fear of the apparition of Senor Gonzales and the SantaMarinan navy looming up to demand restitution. Like true comrades,we divided share and share alike, and be sure that no one grudgedCookie the percentage Which each was taxed for his benefit.

  Certain of the rarest; jewels were not sold, but found their way tome as gifts of the Expedition severally and collectively. Thebrightest of the diamonds now shines in my engagement ring.Cuthbert, by the way, showed up so splendidly when I explained tohim about the engagement--that the responsibility was entirelymine, not Dugald's--that I earnestly wished I were twins so thatone of me could have married the beautiful youth--which indeed Ihad wished a little all the time.

  And now I come to the purpose of this story--for though wellconcealed it has had one from the beginning. It is to let Helen,whoever and wherever she may be, if still of this world, know ofthe fate of Peter, and to tell her that when she asks for them sheis to have my most cherished relics of the island, Peter's journaland the silver shoe-buckle which he found in the sand of thetreasure-cave and was taking home to her.

  Only, she must let me keep Crusoe, please.

  THE END