Читать книгу The Young Treasure Hunters - Alfred Judd - Страница 7

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THE sight of the carved “X” came to Jack almost as a shock, for the later adventure had caused him utterly to forget their original object in coming to the beach that afternoon. But now he remembered. “Beneath the stone marked ‘X’ at the end of the lowest cave, one box.” That had been the mysterious message which Tony had deciphered on one of those sheets of paper.

Well, they had visited the smallest cave, and there, as Jack firmly believed, no genuine mark had been found, but this—this was different! The cross at which Joyce was now pointing was no freak of nature; it must have been cut there by means of some keen instrument.

“And perhaps we can lift this slab up,” Joyce was saying. “Oh, do let us try!”

Jack briskly lent his aid to the task, and for some minutes they both strove to loosen the great fragment of stone. Their labour, at first, met with no success, but presently they applied themselves to the opposite edge of it, being able there to get a better grip.

“It’s shifting!” panted Jack, exerting all his young strength. “Stick to it, Joycie, it’s coming!”

And come it actually did, being raised and wedged on its end like an opened oyster-shell. And then Joyce’s voice shrilled out. “There’s something underneath, Jack—a box—yes, I’m sure it’s a box! Oh, I say, can we get that out as well?”

They struggled to do so. Reaching down, they strove with all their might to procure a firm hold on the object underneath.

“It’s no good!” gasped Jack, perspiring in his excitement. “It’s tightly wedged in the sand, and it will have to be dug out. If we—oh, I say!”

For there had been a sudden splintering noise, and the boy realized that in his efforts he had torn away what was probably a portion of the lid. Once again the matchbox was brought into use, and as the little flame spluttered over the pit they had made, both brother and sister joined in a sharp cry of wonder. Down went Jack’s fumbling fingers, and presently he held in his grasp a blunt looking bar of yellow metal.

“Goodness, isn’t it heavy!” he whispered. “I say, what if it really should be——” He stopped in sheer fascination, and then, rising to his feet, he hurried towards the daylight. Already the lapping tide seemed to be not quite so high as it had been awhile since, and, by stooping, Jack was able to examine their find in a fairly open light. Joyce came down towards him.

“Oh, do you really think——” she began.

“It is!” pronounced Jack; “I’m certain it is! Real gold!”

It may perhaps be imagined what a flutter of excitement possessed these two young people during the short period that followed. There was no longer any chance of their waiting being irksome, for at their very feet was an undoubted box of treasure. It wasn’t quite the sort of thing they had read about in Morrice’s story-books, for there it had always been “doubloons,” and “spade guineas,” and “pieces of eight.” But here, surely, was something equally, if not more valuable, for the box they had disclosed seemed to be packed tightly full with these solid yellow ingots.

From the waiting boat there had come another call, telling them to be ready. The tide was really dropping now, and very gradually the peaks of the ridges were uprising above the white-margined ocean.

Jack and Joyce held a hasty conference, deciding between themselves that it would be better perhaps to say nothing of their discovery till all four of them had met together at home. Having reached this conclusion, they restored the splintered wood as best they could, and let the slab of rock back into the gritty depression. Jack, however, did not replace the one solid bar of metal he had taken out, for he found that he could slip this into an inner pocket of his jacket and then conceal it by buttoning the garment over.

The Merry Maid was now being hugged close to one of the rocky ramparts, under old Ben’s expert direction, and Jack, seeing this, cried out that they would be able to reach it. The move seemed a rather risky one, especially as the water continued to break over the ledge at intervals, but Joyce also seemed confident that they could make a secure passage.

At first those in the boat dissuaded them, but presently, reflecting that the afternoon was drawing in, and that the cavern must be getting chilly, they consented to the attempt being made.

Morrice got out upon the rock, and Tony helped as well as he could by extending an oar, but there was a slight mishap before the other pair quite came into touch with them. Joyce half fell on the dripping causeway, and Jack waded in waist deep in the act of saving her from being wholly immersed.

Tony and Morrice cried out together when they saw this, but happily a ducking was the worst of it, for after that, with the elder brother’s assistance, a safe passage was completed. The Merry Maid turned, and Ben pulled her strongly for the farther beach.

“Get up to the house as fast as you can run!” was the worthy Dobble’s advice, directly their keel ploughed the sand. “Never mind the boat. Leave me to haul that up. Sharp’s the word!”

And, after heartily thanking him for his timely aid, they left the old fisherman there, and followed out his advice to the letter, only pausing to gather the couple of tools from the rushes.

They got up to the Grange quickly enough, and good Mrs. Newton, when she beheld the soaked plight of two of the party, threw up her hands in despair, following this action by weeping over Joyce. But she was a practical soul, and she postponed her remarks till “a thorough rubbing down” and a change into dry clothes had been completed.

Tea, at which the housekeeper presided, began with a chorus of halting excuses and downcast looks, for the dear old lady read them a despairing lecture. She had known from the first how it would be, she stated woefully; and she was only too certain that something dreadful would befall ere Mr. and Mrs. Harding arrived home!

Jack and Joyce, buoyed up by their own special knowledge, managed to keep pretty cheerful despite these mournful comments. Indeed, they were a graceless pair, and they ate toasted scone with relish while poor Morrice bore all the brunt of the blame. It is not surprising, therefore, that their elder took an early opportunity to air a grievance of his own.

“Look here, you two,” he began, directly they were alone in the playroom, “I’m not going to have my holiday spoilt by being taken to task for your little capers! From what you’ve told us about those tunnels, it might have turned out even worse; you might, in fact, have got fairly lost in them.”

“You’re right there, anyhow,” admitted Jack, who, seated on the table, was swinging his legs. “Of course, I know we oughtn’t to have gone nosing off on our own, but it was awfully exciting to have spotted those old passages, and we were fearfully keen on finding the treasure.”

“Treasure!” echoed Tony Wickham. “Why, how queer! I’d forgotten all about that. You didn’t hit upon it, I suppose?” he added playfully.

“We did!” burst out Joyce, unable any longer to wait for her brother to speak—“we found it in the Big Cave! Oh, Jack, do tell them. How can you keep it so long?”

And Jack, thus pressed, unburdened the secret at once, bringing forth the shining yellow bar and dumping it on the table. Wickham, whose head was full of a hundred treasure yarns, fairly danced with triumph. “It’s gold!” he almost shouted; “it’s real, solid gold!”

Morrice alone was doubtful. “Is it?” he murmured. “I can’t understand this a bit. How in the world should it have come there?”

“Ah, that’s a mystery, of course,” said Tony. “But I thought, somehow, that those scraps of paper which Jack found looked musty and genuine. Of course, we could spend hours in making guesses about it. But what I think is that those boxes must have been buried years and years ago——”

“By whom?” cut in Joyce. “Old Ben says that those passages in the cliff were probably the work of men who used to smuggle things. But they wouldn’t have anything valuable to hide, would they?”

“Can’t tell,” was Tony’s answer, “and it isn’t much good bothering about that. I am only saying that somebody buried them, and that he made a note as to the whereabouts of each lot on these scraps of paper, hoping that no one but himself would guess how to read them. Well, we’ll suppose that the fellow who hid the boxes died, and that the papers, passing into other hands, were not understood and came to be reckoned worthless. Finally they were flung away.”

“And that’s how they came to be lying in Westmoor Lane,” suggested Jack. “But,” he ran on quickly, “do you really suppose that each of those papers will lead us to discover a separate hoard of stuff?”

“Quite likely. Anyhow, we’ll have a good shot at solving them. We rather misunderstood this first one, you see; by the ‘lowest cave’ it meant not actually the smaller of the two, but the first one to be reached when walking from the sandhills. But, look here—now that it’s tracked down, I don’t fancy letting the box stay there till to-morrow. I vote we fetch it up to-night!”

Morrice, however, would not hear of this. Mrs. Newton had been justly disturbed about their afternoon’s escapade, and, for the sake of peace, there must be no more faring forth that day. Both Joyce and Jack leaned strongly towards the romantic notion of stealing down to the cave with a lantern and bearing home their trophy under the cover of darkness—they were, indeed, still pleading with their brother when a sudden shout from Tony made them wheel round.

“I’ve got another!” chanted their cousin, on a top note. “Hooray, I’ve captured another!”