The Hispaniola Plate

CHAPTER XXVI.

NICHOLAS LEAVES THE ISLAND

Now, when all was prepared for my setting forth and when I had gotten the galliot ready for her next cruise and had also taken in some fresh water, a small live turtle, some fruit, and all my bread and peas-now running very low-chance was against me for a while. Even for three weeks the wind did blow strong from the northwest, while all the time I desired a wind from the south-east, and I began to ponder if at this season of the year it did not perhaps stay in the same quarter altogether. There was, however, nought to do but to possess my soul in patience, to keep ever a cheerful heart, and to trust in God, as all my life I have done. Meanwhile, in some ways the delay was not altogether to be repined at, for I made, during it, several visits to the Key in my boat and observed that now there was no sign at all of the burying I had made. The bush above the spot had taken root again at once, and was growing and flourishing, some rain storms that had come had smoothed and made solid the disturbed earth, and the turtles were laying of their eggs all around as if no human foot had ever stood upon the Key.

One thing alone troubled me, and that was food-or rather bread, for this was now running very short. If I did not get away soon, I should have to do without it altogether, or go seek for some in Negada and Tortola. Yet neither, I was resolved, would I do this, but rather exist without bread at all. I was a sailor, I ever told myself, and a sailor should be able to endure all hardships.

But on the twenty-second day since I buried my spoils, a change came. I was sleeping in the cabin of my galliot, when with the dawn I perceived it. The northwest wind from which I had been sheltered in my cove had never disturbed the vessel; now from her starboard side, which was to the south as she lay, there blew in a hot southern wind, waves and riplets came into the cove from that direction and lapped against her bows, and she began gently to rise and fall and heel over a little from them, as though she were a living thing, impatient to be off.

"'Tis come," I exclaimed, springing up. "The hour has come to bid farewell to this spot. If this wind hold forty-eight hours I shall be at the Inaguas if I find not Phips at the reef."

The morn was not yet however, but was anigh as I stepped to the deck; the breeze sweeping up from the long line of islands to the south was a-freshening; the stars began to pale, the new moon to wane. No time could have been better for me than this quiet period before the dawn to steal away.

In half an hour I was well outside the cove, the masts stepped, the sails set-and I at the helm had set forth upon my road home. 'Twas a strange voyage for one alone to undertake-had there been another, or even a boy, to relieve me 'twould have been nought; but now 'twas a voyage without a compass or aught to guide me, nothing indeed to help me but the mercy of heaven, my knowledge of the sea, and my strong frame and good health. However, we slipped round Coffin Island a little later, and I saw for the last time the spot that held the buried treasure. The little Key was visible beneath the now rising sun, the sea-birds were wheeling round and about it, and the blue water rippled on its shores. And so I took farewell of it, knowing that I should never see it any more. May you, whomsoever you may be for whom I write this narrative, find it as I left it, unharmed and untouched. May your eyes gaze upon it and find therein what I left behind when mine have long been closed in death.

And now I had nought to do but steer my bark for that easterly point of Hispaniola called of late Cape Françoy, and so I should come near to the reef, and this, since the wind was very good and not boisterous, 'twas easy enough to do. When I was weary I would lower down the sails, lash the rudder, and so take some rest-doing this, of course, by day only, since when the night came I must keep good watch-and then set sail again when refreshed, finding my course easy enough by the sun and breeze.

And so the first day passed, and I did calculate that-allowing for my rest-I had left Coffin Island some twenty to fifteen leagues behind me, and, so that I should not pass the Bajo and thereby run on to Moushoire Carré, or Turk's Islands, I shortened sail. Yet this I need not have done neither, for in some way I had not got my calculations aright. At dawn there was no land in sight as I thought to see, so that the galliot had not sailed as I guessed, or I had missed my course. The wind, however, and the sun forbade me to think this, so I made all sail again and went on.

At midday I did discover I was on the right tack; Cape Françoy and Samana rose on my beam end, therefore I knew that by altering my course a point to the north I must strike the spot where the reef was. And this I did, judging by the sun that it was four of the afternoon when first I saw the little shoal waters over it.

I know not even now if I was glad or sorry to perceive-as I did very soon-that the Furie was no longer there. Yet I think it was the latter, for I had hoped to hear the cheery shout of Phips, to see my brother officers come round me, to hear the welcomes of the men, and to be able to tell my tale. But 'twas not to be. All around the reef was as lonely as if no plate ship had ever sunk there, no attempts ever been made to get up its contents, no horrid tragedy happened such as that when Phips slew the Black and executed of his companion. Birds flew about all over it, seeking perhaps for scraps of food where not a month ago they had found a plenty, the little waves foamed over the sunken reef where the now emptied treasure ship lay-but that was all.

No! I forget. 'Twas not all. As I drew near I saw sticking up from the water-as I had not been able to see before because of the flittings of the many gulls-that which looked like a jagged piece of mast, or yard of a ship, with something crosswise atop of it, and my curiosity being great I got the galliot near to it. I knew I could do this, since she had gone over the reef often enough when acting as a tender, and when 'twas done I saw that it was indeed a mast standing up endwise in the water, the lower part doubtless fixed into some crevice or hole by the diver ere the Furie left. And the cross-piece nailed on to the top of the mast was in the form of a big arrow rudely carved, placed so that it pointed towards where Europe was, and with on it the words, "To Nicholas Crafer. Make your way home." That was all, yet it told enough. The Furie had gone home with the treasure; if I was still alive I was to go too.

Let me be brief. That remaining day and night I anchored off our original little isle, took in some fresher water than I had, and caught some fishes. Also I once more did cover again the bleached bones of those mutineers who had endeavoured to surprise and seize upon the Algier Rose-'twas the last time, I reflected, it would ever be done by me or any. There was no danger of losing the favourable wind by resting here for these few hours; if anything it was blowing stronger and fresher from the south-east than before. Nay, when I put off in the morning for the furtherance of my course, it was blowing so much in a manner I cared not for, namely in fitful gusts followed by moments of stillness, that I doubted me if I was overwise in putting to sea again yet. Moreover, the wind was almost due south by now, so that to make the Inaguas I should have much more trouble and work than when sailing large and free before a favourable breeze.

However, I must go, I would not be detained. Indeed, I had come to hate all this region so much that, even should a chance arise in the future for me to come out and bring off all my treasure, I felt as though I should have no mind to it. Phips might come an he would, and get it, but, for myself, I wanted not to come again. If the Hispaniola plate had been gotten back safely, then there would be a share for me that would keep me from the wolf for the remainder of my days. It would not be wealth, but would doubtless suffice-and I had finished with the sea!

Though not yet.

When I was two hours out from our little isle, and, as I believed, near unto Moushoire Carré, I did discover that I had been foolish to put out against so fast rising a wind. For it had now freshened into a gale due from the south, so that I had to sail close-hauled if I wanted to pass that place in safety, and also Turk's Islands. Nor even a little later was this possible, as it blew more and more. I could no longer manage both sails and helm. So now I had to take down most all my sail excepting the foresail to steady the galliot, and to put her head before the wind, abandoning of my course altogether. And not long afterwards the storm had become a furious one, the whole heavens were obscured, the sea rose horribly-I saw at this moment a picaroon in distress a little way off me, and shortly go down-and my galliot did seem to be doomed.

And now I never thought but that I had reached my journey's end, that all was over with me. Huge seas swept over the bows, the vessel soon began to fill with water, she rolled and tossed from side to side so that I could not keep my feet, and then I heard a crash, I saw the mainmast falling swiftly towards me, I felt a blow that shot a thousand stars from my eyes, and I knew no more.

When I again recovered of my senses I understood not at first where I was, excepting that I was lying in a berth in a dark cabin, that all my head was swathed in cloths, and that standing near me was an elderly man, regarding me attentively.

"Where," I asked, "am I! This is not the galliot."

"So," he replied in my own tongue, "you are an Englishman! We thought by the build of your galliot that you were a Dutchman. Who and what are you?"

"Lieutenant Crafer, late of his Majesty's navy, and late first Lieutenant of the Furie, Captain Phips. What ship is this?"

"His Majesty's Virgin Prize, a 32-gun frigate, Captain John Balchen. Homeward bound. You should know this officer, Lieutenant Crafer."

"Very well," I answered. "We have served together. Yet 'tis not strange if he knows not me, no razor has touched my face for many weeks."

And so it was that I found myself bound to England in a King's ship, having for her captain a man whom I had been at sea with ere now, when he was my subaltern. That I told him all as regards the treasure you are not to suppose; that secret was locked in my own breast, to be divulged to one only, Phips. But I did give him a very fair and considerable history of much that we had gone through, and, living with him in his cabin and at his table, you may be sure that we had many talks on the subject of the sunken plate-ship.

"Yet," said he often, "I misdoubt me if King James will be there to take his tenths when Phips gets the Furie home. The people will endure him but little longer-he is now an avowed Papish-and already there are whisperings of putting one of his daughters in his place. If 'twere Mary all would be well, since she is married to a staunch Protestant, though the country would scarce accept him, too, I think."

Yet, as you will see by later day history, James was still there when I got back. And this I did on Lady Day in the year of our Lord 1687, the Virgin Prize making Portsmouth a month after she picked me up, a corpse as they first thought, from the deck of the galliot, which was cast off after I was rescued. It seemed from their calculations and mine that I must have been met with some hours only after I was struck down, and at first they thought I had been attacked by the picaroon-which ships are generally full of thieves-which they had been a-chasing.

So, in this way, I came back from my second voyage to the wrecked Spanish Plate Ship, and put my foot once more on my native land at Portsmouth Hard.

And now but a few words more and I have done.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE NARRATIVE ENDS

'Twas at the Navy Tavern at Portsmouth that I learned that Phips had preceded me home but a fortnight, that he had sailed to the Downs with the Furie and all her contents, and that, most faithful to his word, he had sent a letter for me. In it he said that he prayed to God I might some time or other get back safe to England-and that, if he should be gone away again, he would charge himself to leave my share of the sale of the treasure in safe keeping, of which I should be advised both by a letter to the Admiralty directed for me, and also by another to this tavern. Likewise, he said, he trusted that I had been able to come up with that most uncommon rogue and villain, Alderly, that I had taken vengeance of him for his treachery, and that I had recovered whatever I might find he had stolen from the Plate Ship. And if, he said, I had been enabled to bring that stolen wealth back with me, then I was to communicate with his Grace of Albemarle-supposing him, Phips, gone-who should see that it was properly directed to the right quarters.

So there was now nought for me to do but to make for London myself, after I had slept one night in the old town, changed a few of the gold pieces I had taken off Alderly ere I buried him, and bought me a fair decent change of clothes in which to travel and appear in London. And in fifteen hours I was there from the time of my setting out, and once more ensconced in an inn I had heretofore patronised, namely, "The Blossoms," in Lawrence Lane, Cheapside.

The finding of Phips after this was by no means difficult; even at the inn they had heard of his arrival: they told me, indeed, that there was much commotion both on Change as well as in Court and Naval circles at the amount of treasure he had brought home with him; while-says my hostess to me-

"Might you, sir, be the gentleman they say he left behind to chase those cruel, wicked pirates who had stolen part of the treasure he did find?"

I answered that I was indeed that officer, whereon she told me that the town talked much about me, that even some of the journals had written discourses upon my having gone off to chase pirates in nought but a ship's boat-as they termed it-and that it would be a fine thing for the gentry who produced those sheets when they should hear that I was safe back so very little a while after Phips himself.

However, I wanted to see Phips himself, and this I very soon did, finding of him by presenting myself at the Duke's house, where I noticed a most extraordinary bustle going on, and discovered that his Grace was just about to proceed to Jamaica to take up the governorship thereof. Poor man! he did but enjoy it a year, all of which time he was thinking of nought but finding new treasure round about that island, and then at the end of that his bottle took him off. However, 'tis the present I have to tell of, and will, therefore, but say that, ten minutes after my announcement, the Duke came to me.

"Now," said he, greeting me, "this is the joyful day, Lieutenant Crafer; I do indeed rejoice to see you back safe and sound, and so will Phips. He is hard by-he shall be sent for."

Whereon he ordered a man to go to the lodgings and to tell Sir William Phips that Lieutenant Crafer was gotten home safe and sound.

"Sir William Phips!" I exclaimed. "Sir William! So! has he come to such honour as that?"

"He hath, indeed," laughed the Duke, who seemed more jolly now than when we went out with the Furie-perhaps his new appointment making him so-"he hath, indeed. The King seemed so well pleased with his tenth that he insisted on knighting our friend, and hath even silenced those wretches of the city who say that-that Phips, and-well, no matter."

"What do they say, my Lord Duke?" I asked, though I could very well guess.

"Oh! 'tis nothing, a trifle! and, since neither the King nor I believe it, not to be considered."

"I can imagine what they say, your Grace," I exclaimed. "It is that we have feathered a nest somewhere-that all has not been brought home that was found. Yet, 'tis not true-"

"Tush, man, tush!" interrupted the Duke. "Who shall think it is?"

"It is not true," I went on. "Every farthing's worth Phips got he brought home, I will swear-while as for what Alderly stole from the plate ship, why, they sunk it when we boarded them."

"Man alive!" exclaimed the Duke, "who doubts it? I do not, who am the chief concerned, nor will the King hear a word. See, here is a testimony I mean to give to Phips. A gold cup I have had made out of a thousand pounds' worth of the treasure. 'Tis for his wife in Boston, now Lady Phips, to whom he hath sent out instructions to buy a fine brick house to live in. For, you must know, the King hath promised him the Governorship of Massachusetts as soon as it falls vacant, when he will be settled for life."

I regarded the cup, very costly and beautiful, engraved, "From Christopher, Duke of Albemarle, to his trusty friend, Sir William Phips," while the Duke bade his servant bring us a tankard, and at that moment in came Sir William himself hot haste to see me.

"No," he said to me that night, as we sat at wine in his lodgings hard by the Strand, "no, Nick, that hidden treasure is yours, and yours alone. It belongs not to our providers here, nor does any share pertain to me. You it was who found it, you it was who had all the risk in going to find it. It shall be yours and yours only, since none other of the galliot's crew are now in existence. Only," he went on, "as now you are provided for, I would leave it there awhile. Say, for another generation. For if you go and dig it up now, then will the merchants say that they spoke truly when they accused us of robbing them."

"I shall never go to dig it up," I said, "I will go to sea no more. The Duke tells me there is four thousand pounds for me at Sir Josiah Child's-'tis enough to do very well for my life. I will buy me a little house somewhere, and an annuity from some nobleman with the rest."

"And," went on Sir William, "in that little house find out a hiding place, and leave therein a full description of where your treasure is, so that those who come after you shall, if they care to be at the trouble thereof, discover a fortune. You will be marrying now, Nick, perhaps?"

"Nay," said I, "I think not. Never now! Once when my heart was young and fresh I did love a sweet young girl-she was the daughter of a retired officer of Oliver's, and they dwelt at Kew-but the smallpox ravaged the land and took her from me. I find myself thinking of her often now; perhaps 'tis because the time is drawing near when I shall see her again, as young and fair as she was in those bygone, happy days; but I shall never have a wife."

"Poor Nick, poor Nick," said Phips, laying his great hand very gently on my shoulder. "Poor Nick. So you have had your romance too. Ah, well! so have most men." Then a little later he said, "You know I go out again with Sir John Narborough-I cannot rest quietly at home in Boston till my rule begins in Massachusetts-we shall be near your little Key-shall I go and dig your spoil up? I would do it most faithfully for you, Nick, as you know."

"No," I answered, after pondering awhile. "No, not unless you will do so and take it, or some of it, for yourself."

"That," said he, "I will never do. Not a stiver, not one coin. 'Tis all yours."

"Then let it lie there," said I, "for those who shall come after me. There is one other Crafer left in Hampshire, a country gentleman, who has perhaps some children now. It shall be theirs when I am gone if they choose to search for it."

So we parted for the last time, not without tears in our eyes, we having been so much to each other for so long that we could not easily say farewell.

As for him, he went on his cruise with Sir John Narborough, but, as he after wrote me, he found nothing.

And then the time came for him to take up his rule in his own land, which he did wisely and well, and perhaps because of his old belief in sooth-sayers, and wizards, and geomancers-and, indeed, the knave I have writ of did tell his fortune most wondrously, even to his becoming a ruler though not a King-he spared many in New England who would have been barbarously entreated otherwise. And he took with him a fine gold medal, which the now fast falling King had had struck in honour of his finding the galleon's wreck, having on it the words Semper tibi pendeat Hamus, which the curate of Mortlake did afterwards translate for me as meaning, "May thy fishing always be as good to thee."

It bore on it a supposed drawing of the Furie, but none too accurate, though near enough.

Of the treasure the Duke took £90,000, His Majesty's tenth was something under £20,000, but not much, and the merchants got many of them £8,000 to £10,000, for every £100 they had adventured. This is speaking roundly, as I have heard sums of more and less mentioned in connection with all concerned. Phips's share, as he told me, was £16,000, and would have been more had he not out of his own purse paid to a-many of the seamen some sums which the merchants withheld from them. Cromby's old mother was dead, I found on inquiring, so that I could do nothing there.

Now, 'twas some six years afterwards, and when James had been gone nigh that time to France, that Phips wrote to me he was a-coming to England and hoped among others to see me. Yet, alas! we never met again. I was at this time sore troubled with gout and rheumatism-though, I thank God, much of both have passed away-and I could not, therefore, go to see him. Nor, neither was he ever able to come to me. He had not been in London many days when he catched a cold, and this turning to a fever he died. And he was buried in the Church of St. Mary Woolnoth, where, when I was recovered, I went and said a prayer above his tomb.

Why should I write a funeral sermon on him for those who never knew him? Suffice, therefore, if I say that he was honest, manly, and God-fearing, and a better man did never live. To me, his subaltern, he was ever kindly, gentle, and friendly, very courteous, yet also, when we came to know each other, very brotherly; and to conclude, I loved him. No need to say more.

Now I have done. Almost all the evenings of four months it hath taken me to write this story down-I beginning of it in the bleak cruel nights of winter, and ending of it when the leaves are pushing forth. And I have written as truly as I know how, telling no lies, and trying also very hard to make my story understandable to whomso'er shall come across it.

My house-which I bought here, because 'twas across the river in years agone I used to wander with the girl I loved so dear, and because I can see the paths where we walked when I arise from my bed every morning-I shall leave to a Crafer for ever, so that some day, if the line dieth not out, one of that name must find the clue. That it shall be a Crafer I do earnestly hope, but if not it cannot be helped. And in conclusion all I will now say is, that I do pray that whosoever readeth this narrative, and whosoever afterwards shall find the buried treasure on the little Key, he will use it well and nobly, devoting some part of it, if not all, to God's service. Amen.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

OFF TO THE VIRGIN ISLES

The passengers by the Royal Mail steamer, especially the younger and fairer members thereof, felt an emotion of genuine regret when Reginald Crafer left the ship at Antigua, there to make the connection with the company's vessel, the Tyne, which runs to Anguilla and Tortola fortnightly.

For like so many, nay, almost all naval officers with but few exceptions, Reginald possessed those manly and pleasant graces which soon endear a stranger to any number of persons among whom he may happen to be thrown; and ere the steamer-crowded with tourists of the better class who were avoiding the rigour of our winter by a tour in the West Indian Islands-had been a week out of Southampton, he had made himself a general favourite. Of course he could dance-when did a sailor ever exist who could not? – also he could sing; he had seen much of the world and he was good-looking. Let anyone who has been on an ocean trip say if these accomplishments and charms are not sufficient to at once make a man popular in the community assembled on such an occasion.