VII
GREENBERRY POINT
There was no trouble with Casey--he had been mighty glad to take them.And, at about noon of the following day, they drew in to the ancientcapital, having made a quick and easy run from Hampton.
It was clear, bright October weather, when late summer seems to lingerfor very joy of staying, and all nature is in accord. The State House,where Washington resigned his commission--with its chaste lines anddignified white dome, when viewed from the Bay (where the monstrosityof recent years that has been hung on behind, is not visible) stood outclearly in the sunlight, standing high above the town, which slumbers,in dignified ease, within its shadow. A few old mansions, up the Spa,seen before they landed, with the promise of others concealed among thetrees, higher up, told their story of a Past departed--a finishedcity.
"Where is Greenberry Point?" demanded Macloud, suddenly.
"Yonder, sir, on the far side of the Severn--the strip of land whichjuts out into the Bay."
"First hypothesis, dead as a musket!" looking at Croyden. "There isn'ta house in sight--except the light-house, and it's a bug-light."
"No houses--but where are the trees?" Croyden returned. "It seemspretty low," he said, to the skipper; "is it ever covered with water?"
"I think not, sir--the water's just eating it slowly away."
Croyden nodded, and faced townward.
"What is the enormous white stone building, yonder?" he asked.
"The Naval Academy--that's only one of the buildings, sir, BancroftHall. The whole Academy occupies a great stretch of land along theSevern."
They landed at the dock, at the foot of Market Place and inquired theway to Carvel Hall--that being the hotel advised by Dick. They weredirected up Wayman's alley--one of the numerous three footthoroughfares between streets, in which the town abounds--to PrinceGeorge Street, and turning northward on it for a block, past the oncesplendid Brice house, now going slowly to decay, they arrived at thehotel:--the central house of English brick with the wings on eitherside, and a modern hotel building tacked on the rear.
"Rather attractive!" was Macloud's comment, as they ascended the stepsto the brick terrace and, thence, into the hotel. "Isn't this an oldresidence?" he inquired of the clerk, behind the desk.
"Yes, sir! It's the William Paca (the Signer) mansion, but it served asthe home of Dorothy Manners in _Richard Carvel_, and hence the name,sir: Carvel Hall. We've many fine houses here: the Chase House--healso was a Signer; the Harwood House, said to be one of the mostperfect specimens of Colonial architecture in America; the Scott House,on the Spa; the Brice House, next door; McDowell Hall, older than anyof them, was gutted by fire last year, but has been restored; the Oglemansion--he was Governor in the 1740's, I think. Oh! this was the Parisof America before and during the Revolution. Why, sir, the tonnage ofthe Port of Annapolis, in 1770, was greater than the tonnage of thePort of Baltimore, to-day."
"Very interesting!" said Macloud. "Very interesting, indeed. What'shappened to it since 1770?"
"Nothing, sir--that's the trouble, it's progressed backward--andBaltimore has taken its place."
"I see!" said Macloud, laughing. "What time is luncheon?"
"It's being served now, sir--twelve-thirty to two."
"Order a pair of saddle horses, and have them around at one-thirty,please."
"There is no livery connected with the hotel, sir, but I'll do what Ican. There isn't any saddlers for hire, but we will get you a pair of'Cheney's Best,' sir--they're sometimes ridden. However, you hadbetter drive, if you will permit me to suggest, sir."
Croyden glanced at Macloud.
"No!--we will try the horses," he said.
It had been determined that they should ride for the reasons, as urgedby Macloud, that they could go on horseback where they could not in aconveyance, and they would be less likely to occasion comment. Theformer of which appealed to Croyden, though the latter did not.
Macloud had borrowed an extra pair of riding breeches and puttees, fromhis friend, and, at the time appointed, the two men passed through theoffice.
"The horses are waiting, sir!" the clerk informed them.
Two negro lads were holding a pair of rawboned nags, that resembledsaddlers about as much as a cigar-store Indian does a sonata. Croydenlooked them over in undisguised disgust.
"If these are Cheney's Best," he commented, "what in Heaven's name arehis worst?"
"Come on!" said Macloud, adjusting the stirrups. "Get aboard and leavethe kicking to the horses, they may be better than they look. Wheredoes one cross the Severn?" he asked a man who was passing.
"Straight up to the College green," he replied, pointing; "then onesquare to the right to King George Street, and on out it, acrossCollege Creek, to the Marine Barracks. The road forks there; you turnto the right; and the bridge is at the foot of the hill."
They thanked him, and rode away.
"He ought to write a guide book," said Croyden.
"How do you know he hasn't?" Macloud retorted. "Well pavedstreets,--but a trifle hard for riding."
"And more than a trifle dirty," Croyden added. "My horse isn't sobad--how's yours?"
"He'll do!--This must be the Naval Academy," as they passed along ahigh brick wall--"Yonder, are the Barracks--the Marines are drilling infront."
They clattered over the creek, rounded the quarters of the"Hermaphrodites," and saw below them the wide bridge, almost a half amile long, which spans the Severn. The draw was open, to let a motorboat pass through, but it closed before they reached it.
"This is exceptionally pretty!" Macloud exclaimed, drawing rein,midway. "Look at the high bluff, on the farther shore, with the view upthe river, on one side, and down the Bay, and clear across on theother.... Now," as they wound up on the hill, "for the first road tothe right."
"This doesn't look promising!" laughed Croyden, as the road swungabruptly westward and directly away from Greenberry Point.
"Let us go a little farther," said Macloud. "There must be a way--abridle path, if nothing better--and, if we must, we can push straightthrough the timber; there doesn't seem to be any fences. You see, itwas rational to ride."
"You're a wise old owl!" Croyden retorted.
"Ah!--there's our road!" as one unexpectedly took off to the right,among the trees, and bore almost immediately eastward. "Come along, myfriend!"
Presently they were startled by a series of explosions, a shortdistance ahead.
"What are we getting into?" Macloud exclaimed, drawing up sharply.
"Parmenter's defending his treasure!" said Croyden, with mockseriousness. "He is warning us off."
"A long way off, then! We must be a mile and more from the Point. It'ssome one blasting, I think."
"It wasn't sufficiently muffled," Croyden answered.
They waited a few moments: hearing no further noises, they proceeded--atrifle cautiously, however. A little further on, they came upon a woodcutter.
"He doesn't appear at all alarmed," Croyden observed. "What were theexplosions, a minute ago?" he called.
"They weren't nothing," said the man, leaning on his axe. "The Navy'sgot a 'speriment house over here. They're trying things. Yer don'tneed be skeered. If yer goin' to the station, it's just a little ways,now," he added, with the country-man's curiosity--which they did notsatisfy.
They passed the buildings of the Experiment Station and continued on,amid pine and dogwood, elms and beeches. They were travelling parallelwith the Severn, and not very distant, as occasional glimpses of bluewater, through the trees, revealed. Gradually, the timber thinned. Theriver became plainly visible with the Bay itself shimmering to thefore. Then the trees ended abruptly, and they came out on GreenberryPoint: a long, flat, triangular-shaped piece of ground, possibly twohundred yards across the base, and three hundred from base to point.
The two men halted, and looked around.
"Somewhere near here, possibly just where your horse is standing, isthe treasure," said Macloud. "Can't you feel its presence?"
"No, I can't!" laughed Croyden, "and that appears to be my only chance,for I can't see a trace of the trees which formed the square."
"Be not cast down!" Macloud admonished. "Remember, you didn't expect tofind things marked off for you."
"No, _I_ didn't! but I thought _you_ did."
"That was only to stir you up. I anticipated even more adverseconditions. It's amazingly easier than I dared to hope."
"Thunder! man! we can't dig six feet deep over all of forty acres. Weshall have the whole of Annapolis over to help us before we've done asquare of forty feet."
"You're too liberal!" laughed Macloud. "Twenty feet would be ample."Then he sobered. "The instructions say: seven hundred and fifty feetback, from the extreme tip of Greenberry Point, is the quadrangle oftrees. That was in 1720, one hundred and ninety years ago. They musthave been of good size then--hence, they would be of the greater size,now, or else have disappeared entirely. There isn't a single tree whichcould correspond with Parmenter's, closer than four hundred yards, and,as the point would have been receding rather than gaining, we canassume, with tolerable certainty, that the beeches havevanished--either from decay or from wind storms, which must be verysevere over in this exposed land. Hence, must not our first quest befor some trace of the trees?"
"That sounds reasonable," said Croyden, "and, if the Point has receded,which is altogether likely, then we are pretty near the place."
"Yes!--if the Point has simply receded, but if it has shiftedlaterally, as well, the problem is not so simple."
"Let us go out to the Point, and look at the ruins of the light-house.If we can get near enough to ascertain when it was built, it may helpus. Evidently there was none erected here, in Parmenter's time, elsehe would not have chosen this place to hide his treasure."
But the light-house was a barren yield. It was a crumbling mass ofruins, lying out in water, possibly fifty feet--the real house was abug-light farther out in the Bay.
"Well, there's no one to see us, so why shouldn't we make a search forthe trees?" said Croyden.
"Hold my horse!" said Macloud, dismounting.
He went out on the extreme edge, faced about, and taking a line atright angles to it, stepped two hundred and fifty paces. He ended insand--and, for another fifty paces, sand--sand unrelieved by aught savesome low bushes sparsely scattered here and there.
"Somewhere hereabout, according to present conditions, the trees shouldbe," he said.
"Not very promising," was Croyden's comment.
"Let us assume that the diagonal lines drawn between the treesintersect at this point," Macloud continued, producing a compass."Then, one hundred and ten paces North-by-North-East is the place weseek."
He stepped the distance carefully--Croyden following with thehorses--and sunk his heel into the sand beside a clump of wire grass.
"Here is the old buccaneer's hoard!" he exclaimed, dramatically.
"Shall we dig, immediately?" Croyden laughed.
HE WENT OUT ON THE EXTREME EDGE, FACED ABOUT, AND STEPPEDTWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY PACES]
"You dig--I'll hold the horses; your hands are tougher than mine."
"I wonder who owns this land?" said Croyden, suddenly.
"We can ascertain very readily. You mean, you would try to purchaseit?"
"Yes, as a site for a house, ostensibly. I might buy a lot beginning,say one hundred and fifty yards back from the Point, and running, at aneven width of two hundred yards, from the Severn to the Bay. That wouldsurely include the treasure."
"A fine idea!" Macloud agreed.
"If the present owner will sell," appended Croyden--"and if his priceisn't out of all reason. I can't go much expense, you know."
"Never mind the expense--that can be arranged. If he will sell, therest is easy. I'll advance it gladly to you."
"And we will share equally, then," said Croyden.
"Bosh!" Macloud answered. "I've got more money than I want, let me havesome fun with the excess, Croyden. And this promises more fun than I'vehad for a year--hunting a buried treasure, within sight of Maryland'scapital. Moreover, it won't likely be out of reach of your ownpocketbook, this can't be very valuable land." He remounted his horse."Let us ride around over the intended site, and prospect--we maydiscover something."
But, though, they searched for an hour, they were utterly unsuccessful.The four beech trees had disappeared as completely as though they neverwere.
"I'm perfectly confident, however," Macloud remarked as they turnedaway toward town, "that somewhere, within the lines of your proposedlot, lie the Parmenter jewels. Now, for the lot. Once you have title toit, you may plow up the whole thing to any depth you please, and no onemay gainsay you."
"I'm not so sure," replied Croyden. "My knowing that the treasure wason it when purchased, may make me liable to my grantor for anaccounting."
"But you don't _know_!" objected Macloud.
"Yet, I have every reason to believe--the letter is most specific."
"Suppose, after you've paid a big price for the land, you don't findthe treasure, could you make him take it back and refund the purchasemoney?"
"No, most assuredly, no," smiled Croyden.
"Mighty queer doctrine! You must account for what you find--if youdon't find it, you must keep the land, anyway. The other fellow winswhatever happens."
"It's predicated on the proposition that I have knowingly deceived himinto selling something for nothing. However, I'm not at all clear aboutit; and we will buy if we can--and take the chances. But we won't go towork with a brass band, old man."
At the top of the hill, beyond the Severn, there was a road which tookoff to the left.
"This parallels the road by the Marine Barracks, suppose we turn inhere," Macloud said. "It probably goes through the Academy grounds."
A little way on, they passed what was evidently a fine hospital, withthe United States flag flying over it. Just beyond, occupying the pointof land where College Creek empties into the Severn, was the NavalCemetery.
"Very fitting!" Croyden laughed. "They have the place of intermentexceedingly handy to the hospital. What in thunder's that?" he asked,indicating a huge dome, hideously ornate with gold and white, thatprojected above the trees, some distance ahead.
"Give it up!" said Macloud. "Unless it's a custard-and-cream puddingfor the Midshipmen's supper. Awful looking thing, isn't it! Oh! Irecollect now: the Government has spent millions in erecting newAcademy buildings; and someone in the Navy remarked, 'If a certain chap_had_ to kill somebody, he couldn't see why he hadn't selected thefellow who was responsible for them--his work at Annapolis would havebeen ample justification.' Judging from the atrocity to our fore, theofficer didn't overdraw it."
They took the road along the officers' quarters on Upshur Row, and cameout the upper gate into King George Street, thereby missing the Chapel(of the custard-and-cream dome) and all the other Smith buildings.
"We can see them again!" said Croyden. "The real estate agent is moreimportant now."
It was the quiet hour when they got back to the hotel, and the clerkwas standing in the doorway, sunning himself.
"Enjoy your ride, sirs?" he asked.
"It wasn't bad," returned Croyden. Then he stopped. "Can you tell mewho owns Greenberry Point?"
"Yes, sir! The Government owns it--they bought it for the RifleRange."
"The whole of it?"
"Yes, sir!--from the Point clear up to the Experiment Station."
Croyden thanked him and passed on.
"That's the end of the purchase idea!" he said. "I thought it was 'mosttoo good to last."
"It got punctured very early," Macloud agreed.
"And the question is, what to do, now? Might the clerk be wrong?"
Macloud shook his head. "There isn't a chance of it. Titles in a smalltown are known, particularly, when they're in the United States.However, it's easy to verify--we'll hunt up a real estateoffice--they'll know."
But when they had dressed, and sought a real estat
e office, the lastdoubt vanished: it confirmed the clerk.
"If you haven't anything particularly pressing," said Macloud, "Isuggest that we remain here for a few days and consider what is best todo."
"My most pressing business is to find the treasure!" Croyden laughed.
"Good! then we're on the job until it's found--if it takes a year orlonger." And when Croyden looked his surprise: "I've nothing to do, oldchap, and one doesn't have the opportunity to go treasure hunting morethan once in a lifetime. Picture our satisfaction when we hear the pickstrike the iron box, and see the lid turned back, and the jewelscoruscating before us."
"But what if there isn't any coruscating--that's a good word, oldman--nor any iron box?"
"Don't be so pessimistic--_think_ we're going to find it, it will helpa lot."
"How about if we _don't_ find it?"
"Then, at least, we'll have had a good time in hunting, and have doneour best to succeed."
"It's a new thing to hear old cynical Macloud preaching optimism!"laughed Croyden--"our last talk, in Northumberland, wasn't particularlyin that line, you'll remember."
"Our talk in Northumberland had to do with other people andconditions. This is an adventure, and has to do solely with ourselves.Some difference, my dear Croyden, some difference! What do you say toan early breakfast to-morrow, and then a walk over to the Point. It'ssomething like your Eastern Shore to get to, however,--just across theriver by water, but three miles around by the Severn bridge. We canhave the whole day for prospecting."
"I'm under your orders," said Croyden. "You're in charge of thisexpedition."
They had been passing numerous naval officers in uniform, some wellset-up, some slouchy.
"The uniform surely does show up the man for what he is," said Macloud."Look at these two for instance--from the stripes on the sleeves, aLieutenant-Commander and a Senior Lieutenant. Did you ever see a realBowery tough?--they are in that class, with just enough veneer todeceive, for an instant. There, are two others, opposite. They looklike soldiers. Observe the dignity, the snappy walk, the inherent airof command."
"Isn't it the fault of the system?" asked Croyden. "Every Congressmanholds a competitive examination in his district; and the appointmentgoes to the applicant who wins--be he what he may. For that reason, Idare say, the Brigade of Midshipmen contains muckers as well asgentlemen--and officers are but midshipmen of a larger growth."
"Just so! and it's wrong--all wrong! To be a commissioned officer, ineither Army or Navy, ought to attest one's gentle birth."
"It raises a presumption in their favor, at least."
"Presumption! do you think the two who passed us could hide behind thatpresumption longer than the fraction of an instant?"
"Don't get excited, old man! I was accounting for it, not defending it.It's a pity, of course, but that's one of the misfortunes of a Republicwhere all men are equal."
"Rot! damn rot!" Macloud exclaimed. "Men aren't equal!--they're born todifferent social scales, different intellectualities, differentconditions otherwise. For the purpose of suffrage they may, in thetheory of our government, be equal--but we haven't yet demonstrated it.We exclude the Japanese and Chinese. We have included the negro, onlywithin the living generation--and it's entirely evident, now, we made amonstrous mistake by doing it. Equal! Equal! Never in this world!"
"How about the next world?" asked Croyden.
"I don't know!" laughed Macloud, as they ascended the steps of thehotel. "For my part, I'm for the Moslem's Paradise and the Houris whoattend the Faithful. And, speaking of houris!--see who's here!"
Croyden glanced up--to see Elaine Cavendish and Charlotte Brundagestanding in the doorway.
In Her Own Right Page 7