TREASURE FOUND A BRIDE WON.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 47, 19 June 1917, Page 7

TREASURE FOUND A BRIDE WON.

(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

BY GEORGE E. GARDNER, iv.vorsis OF PREVIOUS PARTS, t. luu los Tremaine, a rising young • ar, is surprised at receiving a isit iT cuu his old schoolmate, Jack I • -• ng, who, recounting his exi rieii es mentions how, since leavag school he has followed the sea is a means of livelihood. He relates hat on one occasion, being shipwrecked, he and some of the crew .vere cast upon an uninhabited island a the South Pacific. Whilst there he liscovers hidden treasure of enormous value, the knowledge of which ■ ■ keeps from his companions. Ho •entually arrives a' Melbourne, here he falls in love with Florence inter, the beautiful daughter of an (I friend of his father. Mr. Wini- refuses to give his consent to the a’riage until Harding is able to oport a wife ashore. With that de■mination he makes up his mind recover the treasure, and sails for •■land, where ho intends to buy d fit out a vessel for the task, emaine is persuaded into joining m, and it is whilst inspecting the ’ ig ‘Janet’, which Harding has •urehased, that the latter hails an •quaintancc on shore, introducing 'dm to Tremaine as Mr. M'organ. During an Interview with the cap<nln, the newcomer intimates that ■ho is aware of the object of the cruise, and practically demands the position of first mate of the ‘Janet.’ This fact rather disturbs Mr. Tremaine, for he has taken a great dislike to the man. When a month out on their journey they encounter a terrific gale, and witness the destruction of a vessel by lire, being unable to render assistance owing to the violence of the storm, A week later Morgan inflicts frightful cruelty on one of the sailprs, and also threatens the lives of Tremaine and the second mate. He is disarmed, the captain ordering his friend to search the first mate’s state-room for weapons. While thus engaged Tremaine comes across the portrait of Florence Winter, concealed in the lining of Morgan’s coat. This fact causes Captain Harding many anxious moments, and he declares that unless the whole business is cleared up he will put l the mate in irons on the morrow. The latter, however, does not appear on deck the following day, so the door of his cabin is forced open. PART FOUR.—CHAPTER VIII. Morgan lay stretched upon the Hc.or. His unseeing eyes, wild and bloodshot, rested upon us as we entered. His breath came in quick, lar nured gasps, while the meaningless babble of delirium poured unceasingly from his lips. He had apparently 'alien from his bunk, as there was a bad bruise on his forehead, from vhlch the Mood oozed slowly. He vas plainly very ill. Either the envenomed soul, which ould not brook the humiliation of lefeat, had, in its reaction upon itself, disorganised the splendid bodily 'rame, or the germs of disease, lurking there in secret, had, in the hour :if physical exhaustion, got the up-’ -icr hand. * Lifting the sufferer to his bed, we made him as comfortable as possible. Fever had imprisoned the man-more securely than bolts and bars could have done. Two sailors were told off to care for him, and to administer the simple remedies which the brig’s medicine-chest afforded. By night there were all the symptoms of a well-marked case of typhoid fever. For nearly a month the man struggled with the disease, which raged with increased fury because of the perfection of the body, en which it preyed. Strangely enough it was a simple matter to care for the mate, since, though continually delirious, he was not violent, his body seeming to withstand the assaults of the malady in a state of quiescence. A sailor was kept constantly at the bedside, while I frequently visited the sick berth in the hope that the fever might open the sealed lips and reveal the machinations of the heart ; but, although he raved about all things else, there was never eL reference to Florence Winter or the buried treasure. Nature at last conquered. On the twenty-ninth day the crisis passed, and when Morgan opened his eyes from the restless sleep into which he had fallen, the baffled distemper had departed, leaving a strengthless body with infinite capacity for recovery. His illness had banished all thought of his imprisonment; and when the convalescence began, Harding informed me that he had decided to get rid of Morgan at Capetowm, taking no action until then ; a plan which I heartily commended. Fair weather and fresh breezes favoured the ‘Janet’ in the meantime, and despite the unfortunate events of the voyage and the uncertainty of its result, I found myself enjoying it vastly. The quiet, restful days were far from monotonous, while the grandeur and beauty of the sea were a continual delight to me. We were headed for Cape Town, Jack having decided to touch there to replenish our water and vegetables betfore starting on the final run over the South Pacific and Indian Oceans. We calculated that three weeks ought to bring us to Table Bay.

Excellent os had been our progress Harding was growing impatient, for he piled sail on the old hooker as though determined to tear the masts r>ut of her, and finally, one morning,

1 lounu me crew engaged in rigging up a new main-topgallant mast. Mr. Ross was in charge of the jols. He was very popular with the men, who responded to his commands with cheerful alacrity, and the hoarse yet not unmusical songs with which they enlivened their work seemed a piece with the rush of the wind and the boiling of the surges as they dashed into foam against the bow of the brig, . A strong wind came straight from the north, wdiich was kicking up something- of a sea, but the sun had risen gloriously, and everything indicated fair weather. Far on the horizon, hull down, was a solitary sail. For over six weeks we had seen no sign of a ship, and the knowledge that the spot, a mere white speck in the distance, bore men, and, perhaps countrymen, warmed our hearts with a vital interest. Nowhere does the society of one’s fellowmen seem so precious as at sea. Nowhere is their mere proximity so desirable. Thus we wanderers on the southern seas looked eagerly at the bit of canvas, which grew perceptibly larger until it was .evident that we should be able to speak the stranger, unless she shifted her course. Within an hour wc could make her out, a large, full-rigged ship, and deep in the water. Though the breeze was strong, she was carrying all plain canvas, even to the tiny sky sails, and under the tremendous pressure she was fairly hurling herself through the seas, white clouds of spray flying over her shapely bows. Rapidly the two vessels drew near. When the ship was half a mile distant, Jack ordered the colours to be hoisted and signalled that he wished to speak. Eagerly we watched for the answering flag, for speculation on her nationality had run high. Harding and Ross thought she was an American, while Morgan, who was now able to be on deck a little while each day, positively asserted that she was of English build. As her ensign mounted to the peak and the wind caught and straightened its folds, the mate’s conjecture proved correct, for the British flag met our delighted eyes. Never had the glorious flag seemed so fair. It was worth taking the voyage, with all its risks and uncertainties, to realise how precious one’s country really is. Suddenly the stranger hoisted a new signal, indicating that she wished to send a boat. Harding had only expected to hail the ship for the purpose of verifying his longitude. The wheel was put hard over, thus bringing the brig into the wind, and with topsails aback, she lay curtseying a friendly greeting to her neighbour.

At the same time the ship was brought to and a boat lowered, which soon appeared climbing over the long, South Atlantic swell, manned by four sailors, with a weatherbeaten man in the stern.

A rope was cast to them as they neared the brig, up which the officer, a thin, nervous man, with cleanlyshaven face and iron-grey hair, nimbly scrambled. Introducing himself as the first mate of the ship which was called the ‘Boreas,’ he made known his errand.

They had left Singapore, bound for London, some weeks ago. Bad weather had driven the vessel to the south and kept her there, when they ought to have been well northward. Some of the beef had spoiled, and this, with the delay, and the loss of 'part of the bread, had reduced them to short rations. Could we supply them with enough to carry them to St. Helena?

As we were to touch at the Cape, Jack thought we could accommodate the ‘Boreas,’ especially when he became aware that her commander was an old acquaintance. The mate was invited below, where we soon pledged each other in excellent- punch of Harding’s brewing, while the sailors made themselves at home among the ‘Janet’s’ crew in the forecastle. In the meantime the provisions were bundled into the boat, which was soon alongside the ship. With a rush it was hoisted on the davits, the helm was put up, and the ‘Boreas, ’• coming into the wind, bent before it until her mainyard well-nigh touched the water. Then, with a mighty leap, the huge fabric sped on her course towards her distant home, greeted as she swept past us by the cheers of officers and men.

Just then her captain ordered some "hands aloft to reduce sail. We could see them racing up the rigging in hot rivalry. Ropes were let go, and in a trice the sky sails and royals were beating furiously on the yards. Suddenly a dark object dropped from the height of the main-royal, Every man of us knew what it was. A sailor had lost his hold, or a rope had parted. Down he fell like a shot, striking the topsail, which was bellying out as stiff as iron in the wind. Rebounding, he disappeared in the smother of foam below.

An officer rushed to the side as the vessel dashed on, and cast a lifebuoy towards the spot where the man had struck. The ship was put about as quickly as possible, but such was her momentum, that a long stretch of angry sea lay between her and the drowning seaman before she could be brought to. Fortunately, the' lifebuoy fell near the sailor, who rose to the surface, and, after swimming aimlessly about for a minute —the fall hav ing apparently stunned him—saw the buoy, which a few strokes brought within his reach.

A boat, which had in the meantime been lowered from the ‘Boreas,’ was rapidly approaching the struggling man. His safety seemed assured, and Jack was about to let the brig fill away on her course, when a frightful shriek pierced the air, and we saw the sailor endeavouring to pull himself out of the water, while *ihe tossed in agony tho • bleeding stump of his leg, which had been bit-

ten clean on at the knee ; then came ( a violent commotion among the waves, and a huge shark threw itself bodily out of the sea upon the unfortunate sailor as he clung to the lifebuoy. There was one cry, longdrawn and pitiful, and the doomed man disappeared. Sorrowfully , his companions rowed back to the ship, the yards were braced, and the ship again sped on her course, with one man missing. Within an hour both vessels were far from the spot where the tragedy occurred. So deep an impression did the event make on me that, on my return to England, I endeavoured to learn something of the man ; but his memory seemed to have been swallowed with his life, for no trace of him could be found. The log-book of the ‘Boreas’ which I succeeded in obtaining when the ship was loading in London, some three years later, contained the brief entry : William Thomas, able seaman, fell overboard May 2, 1885, and was lost. The vessel was in command of a new captain, and, despite a careful search, I was never able to find any trace of the officers or crew who manned her on the occasion of our meeting in the lonely South Atlantic. The breeze held strong during the day, but towards evening it moderated, and with every thread of canvas spread the ‘Janet’ steadily moved on her course. It was a glorious, semitropical night. The moon rose fullorbed at ten o’clock, the sea resembling the ballroom of a fairy world as it glistened in the vague and eerie light. There was an occasional rustle among the folds of canvas, as the wind sighed through the cordage as gently as a lover might breath his vows into the willing ear of his listening mistress. A sailor leaned on the wheel, while the rest of the watch, snugly stowed away in odd nooks and .corners, slumbered as soundly as their mates in the forecastle. Ross was in charge of the brig. He had been very silent since the row with Morgan, though he had apparently no feeling against either Harding or myslf. To-night, however, he seemed disposed to talk, and the death Of the sailor in the morning led up to the hardships and the dangers of a seaman’s life.

“The life itself is hard enough,” remarked Ross, ‘‘but the cruelty and harshness of the officers are the worst of it. Few skippers and mates treat their men as though they were human. It isn’t so much the out-and-out cruelty, perhaps, as the cold-blooded indifference and contempt, and the total disregard of their safety that makes the life a bitter one to sailors. Anybody, with any manliness in him, can stand exposure and hardship, if his work is appreciated and reasonable thought shown for his comfort and safety ; but that isn’t the case.”

Ross gave a hard little laugh as he continued ;

"The worst case of inhuman heartlessness I ever came across was when I was able seaman on an American brig called the ‘Tartarus.’ We had just sailed from Baltimore, bound for Rosario. There was a favourable wind, and the captain was anxious to take advantage of it and get out of the bay and to sea, as there were some signs of bad weather. Every rag was spread on the brig, and she was doing a good ten knots.

“One of the crew was a fellow named George Holden, one of the strongest men I ever saw, and a remarkable swimmer. He was a goodhearted chap, George was, and everybody liked him. This was his second voyage in the ‘Tartarus, and the officers knew how good and willing a sailor he was. Well, the -wind kept freshening, and finally the old man had to reduce his canvas. George went aloft, and as he was laying out on the mainyard, in some way he lost his hold he was always a reckless fellow aloft—and overboard he went. “He came to the surface, none the worse for his fall, and struck out for the brig. We were all waiting for the order to heave to there wouldn’t have been any need of launching a boat, for George would have been aboard before it could have got off —but the skipper held right on, and never an order came. I heard the mate ask him if he wasn’t going to pick the man up, but he growled out that /if the damned fool didn’t know enough to hang on, he could drown, for all he cared ; and when one of the crew asked if .they should lower a boat, the captain knocked him down with a marlin-spike. Well, sir, for more than a mile Holden followed the brig, swimming as I never before supposed a man could swim. Of course, she dropped him after a while. There were life-buoys enough aft, but none of the officers dared to heave one overboard, George was never heard of again. No doubt he was drowned, as there wasn’t a vessel or land within miles.

“Murder ? Of course it was ; but what can you do about it ? The crew scattered at the end of the voyage, and courts and juries won’t take the oaths of forty sailors against that of a single officer, anyway Seamen are so used to such things that they don’t even remember them a great while. You will say that we, ought to have made the old man heave the brig to, but mutiny is a mighty ticklish business, and then it isn’t so easy to mutiny in the face of loaded revolvers. In such a matter the mates will almost always stand by the captain. All a sailor can do is to drink a glass to the memory of his shipmate, and hang on harder himself when he goes aloft. I don’t remember that the captain of the Tartarus was particularly hard on his crew. He was in a hurry to get to sea, and didn’t feel like stopping to pick up a sailor,

that’s all. It’s such things that make the life intolerable. You wouldn t think men would follow the sea, for the poor food and wretched wages, with ill-treatment thrown-into the bargain. But there’s nothing else they can do. A man who has knocked about on the ocean for a few years ain’t fit for anything else, and most sailors don’t know enough, and haven’t ambition enough, to better their condition, anyway. They don’t know anything better, and couldn t tell how to get it if they did. An officer’s berth is hard enough, Heaven knows but our pay does amount to a little something, and we are able to stay ashore the last of our lives, if we live long enough to have any.” “Is the mortality among seamen so great ?” I asked. “I have had a notion that the dangers of the life were rather overestimated.” “I admit the loss of life is not so great as might seem at first thought,’ the mate. “Still it is very great. In every severe gale the sailor always stands a good chance of being washed overboard by seas breaking over the ship. Falls are numerous, though many of them are duo to carelessness, and there is always the peril of loss at sea or shipwreck on the coast. The seaman’s risks are greatly increased by niggardly owners, who send unseaworthy crafts to sea, improperly loaded. Such a vessel runs into a hurricane, her cargo phifts, and over she goes on her beam ends, and the probability is that she will be turned bottom up before the masts can be cut away and she has any chance to right.

“Poor food and exposure get in their work, though the purity of the sea air largely makes up for this. But you won’t find many old sailors ; but few reach the age of fifty. The officer, of course, has a better chance. He isn’t obliged to go aloft very often, and his food is about as 'good as it could be under the circumstances. His danger in time of shipwreck and disaster is as great, however, and his responsibilities sometimes wear on him considerably. Take the business all in all, it is about the meanest a man could follow. And yet they say that seafaring men are uneasy and dissatisfied with steady work ashore. But I intend to try the experiment for myself sometime, and I’m sure I shan’t hanker for any more sea in my life. Good night, sir. Here comes the captain, and it’s my time to turn in.” And the little mate hurried below, whither I soon followed.

A lively breeze sprang up during the night, and morning found the brig tearing her way through the waves under reefed topgallants, and making hard work of it at that. It seemed to a green hand more sail than she could carry to advantage, but Harding would not hear of a reduction. The vessel fairly jumped from sea to sea, occasionally shipping a green billow, which came tumbling aft with a wild rush,sweeping the deck of everything movable and gushing through the scuppers with a hoarse gurgle that harmonised well with the piping of the wind among the groaning spars. Harding remained on deck all day, and it was chiefly due to his admirable seamanship that some of the sails did not carry away.

But he held on a trifle too long. The wind continually stiffened, and late in the afternoon a gust of unusual violence struck the brig. There

was a crack, rifle-like in its sharpness, and away went the main-top-gallant, blown clean out of boltropes. Scarcely had two hands sprung aloft to furl the fore-topgallant, when it followed its companion. It was pretty plain that a squall was coming, and everything was made snug aloft in readiness for it. Down it swooped, a little tropical tempest, and for an hour we ran before what threatened to develop into a hurricane. It proved short - lived, however, and by evening the ‘Janet’ again showed all available canvas to the fair wind which the rising moon brought with her. For the two succeeding weeks there was uninterrupted fine weather, and a succession of strong winds, rising, to the violence of gales each night, enabled the brig to make a remarkable run. On May 18th, according to the reckoning, we were close bn the African coast, and about noon a man aloft sang out : “Land away on the lee bow !”

Looking sharply, a faint smudge could be discovered far away on the horizon, which would have appeared a cloud to any but a sailor's eyes. They are rarely mistaken in such a matter, and a few hours brought the low coast of South Africa into plain sight. Before nightfall the chains rattled through the hawse-holes, and the ‘Janet’ swung quietly to her anchor as it lay deep in the mud of Table Bay. Jack at once ordered the quarterboat to be lowered, and leaving the second mate in charge of the brig, we were soon ashore. Morgan, who no longer showed any effects of his sickness, had asked to accompany us. He gave no reason, but the request was natural enough, and Jack told him to come along. On landing, he at once hurried away into the town. Eleven o’clock was the time set for returning to the brig, and after ordering the sailors to report promptly at that Sour, we started for a stroll through the place. It was a delight to again set foot on land and enjoy the familiar earthy feeling which I could never find on the deck of a ship, while the sight of one’s fellowmon, Dutchmen though they largely were, did the heart good. Nearly thirty deep-water vessels were at anchor in the bay, from a tiny Dutch brigantine of a hundred tons to the huge East Indiaman ; and the bands of sailors, ashore on leave, made the town lively enough with their shouts and

songs, which were varied by an occasional street fight. The drinking-places were doing a thriving business, for if Jack has a shilling when ashore, it is pretty sure to go for rum. Yet one can almost pardon his carousals, vicious and brutal though they are, for his life is sadly monotonous at best, and the untrained longing for amusement and delight leads the poor fellow into wild excesses. But the sailor’s vices are, as a rule, of the body, not the heart, and he often preserves that essential uprightness of the will which is the taproot of all that is

worthy in manhood. We strolled aimlessly about, visiting the principal hotels in search of acquaintances which Jack might have among skippers and mates congregating there, but finding none, and at eleven o’clock we were at the pier. Morgan was missing, as was also the sailor Frank, who had figured in the fracas between our two mates. After waiting half an hour, Morgan having arrived in the meantime, we put off for the biig, concluding that liquor had got the better of the fellow, and that we should see nothing of him before morning. A faint haze had settled over the bay, so that we could barely make out the shadowy form of the brig in the distance. All the vessels lay dark and silent, their size magnified by the mist, though, as we passed a small American ship, the twanging of a banjo in the forecastle told of the sailor’s hornpipe and a jolly time below.

"I wish I knew how that precious first mate of ours spent the evening,” I remarked, as we descended 'into the cabin on reaching the brig, “By the way, how do you intend to dispose of him here ?” “I have thought better of my determination in that matter, ’ said Jack, seriously. "If our fears are really without foundation there is no need of giving liim the slip. On the other hand and this phase of the matter occurred to me only recently—if he is really plotting for my injury, he is much better on board the brig than elsewhere. I don’t dare to leave him behind, when I think of the evil which his desire for revenge mignt lead him to inflict on Florence. He could hurt me through her more cruelly than in any other way. Our wisest course is to retain him, keeping careful watch for treachery. His outbreak against Mr. Ross was the result of momentary ill-temper. Otherwise his conduct has been unexceptionable. I know your opinion is most valuable, old fellow, and I will promise to put Morgan under lock and key when the treasure is once on board, if you so desire ; but I am sure there will. be no trouble till then. As for his whereabouts to-night, I don’t see what harm he can do in such a place as

Cape Town and at this late day. If there was any plot, it was laid) months ago, when Table Bay could not have entered into it, for he did not know that we should touch here. We will keep our eyes wide open for him, and I fancy we shall manage all right. Good night.” I could not feel the light-hearted indifference of my companion, for I was sure that Morgan had been engaged in some mischief during the evening. By a careful study of the man, I had come to understand his feelings somewhat, self-possessed and subtle though he was. A strange pallor marked his face when under

the influence of strong excitement, and I had noticed this from the light of a passing lantern as he entered the boat on our return to the brig. His voice, too, had been unusually smooth and supple, which, I had learned, indicated an internal struggle, with final self-mastery. However, there seemed some reason in Jack’s proposed plan of action —at least, I could suggest nothing better lying awake all night wouldn’t thwart any of Morgan’s schemes. ‘Dismissing all troublesome thoughts of the fellow, I slept, only to b® awakened by the swashing of water as the sailors scrubbed down the decks next morning.

Our first business was to procure a supply of water, and being in a hurry to got away, the boats were lowered, water-casks put aboard, and with the captain and each mate in charge of a boat, we put off. Harding’s boat reached the landing first. He had barely set foot on the wharf, when an official-looking man addressed him with the words : "Are you from the brig‘Janet’?” “I am her captain," Jack answered.

“You are the man I want to see. A sailor from your vessel was found last night stabbed and dying. He was carried to the Somerset Hospital, with which I am connected, he is there now, barely alive. He cannot live more than a few hours.” “I will come at once,” interrupted Harding. And after giving a few orders to the first mate, whose boat had just pulled up, he started off with the superintendent, accompanied by myself. 'A moment’s glance at Morgan revealed the pallor of his face, though it was so slight that no one not thoroughly distrustful of the man,, and on the watch, would have observed it.

Entering a cab, a brisk drive of half an hour brougnt us to the hospital, where we were at once conducted to the room in which the dying man lay, apparently unconscious of our presence. Now and then a low moan broke from hia lips when the paroxysms of pain seized him. Stepping to the the doctor poured a little brandy into his mouth. Its effect was immediate. His eyes opened and he endeavoured to turn towards us. As Harding bent over him, there was a look of recognition on the sufferer’s face. He glanced appealingly towards the brandy bottle

in the doctor’s hand. The latter understood, and administered another draught. Then, in a feeble voice and with many a pause, the sailor told as well as he could the story of the assault. (To be Continued.)