by Bartimeus
*II.*
It was tea-time, and the Mess had gathered round the Wardroom table; asignalman came down from the upper deck and pinned a signal on thebaize-covered notice-board.
"Hullo," said some one, "signal from the Flagship! What's the news?"
The Assistant Paymaster, who was sitting with his back to thenotice-board, relinquished the jam-pot, and tilting up his chair,scrutinised the paper over his shoulder. "Flag-General: Let fires dieout. Usual leave may be granted to Officers."
The Major of Marines, who had finished his tea, rose from the table andtucked the novel he had been reading under his arm. "Thanks very much,"he said, "now we're all happy." He stared out through the rain-smearedscuttle at an angry grey sea and lowering sky. "I can see a faint bluron the horizon--would that be the delectable beach we're invited torepair to?"
"That's it," said the First Lieutenant, stirring the leaves in histea-pot with the spoon. He had just spent three-quarters of an hour onthe forecastle, mooring ship in a cold, driving rain. "It's not morethan three miles away, and it's only blowing about half a gale--there'sa cutter to go ashore in; time some of you young bloods were climbinginto your 'civvy'[#] suits."
[#] Lowerdeckese = Civilian.
"So much for the joys of a big Fleet in the North Sea. I'd like tobring some of these fellows, who are always writing to the papers aboutit, for a little yachting trip," grumbled the Fleet Surgeon, who hadjust returned from two successively placid commissions in the WestIndies. "Never anchor in sight of land--always blowing, always raining;never get ashore, and when you do, you wish you were on board again....It's the limit."
"Well, thank Heaven for a fire and an arm-chair, anyway," said thePaymaster, and drifted towards the smoking-room, filling his pipe as hewent.
"Who'll make a four at Bridge?" asked the Major. "Come on, Number One,"and so the Mess dispersed, some to arm-chairs round the fire, others tothe Bridge-table, others again to write letters in their cabins.
About half an hour before dinner, as was his wont, the Captain came downfrom his cabin and joined the group round the smoking-room fire. Theoccupants of the arm-chairs made room and smiled greetings.
"Hullo," said the Captain, "none of you ashore! Thought you all cameinto the Navy to see life!"
The Commander laughed. "We're beginning to forget there is such a thingas the beach."
The Captain lit a cigarette. "Not a bad principle either--saves yourplain-clothes from wearing out." He settled down in an arm-chairsomebody had vacated. "Like an old Gunner of a small ship I was in oncein the West Indies; he only went ashore three times during thecommission--once at Trinidad, and once at Bermuda, and each time when hereturned he had to be hoisted on board in a bowline." There was ageneral laugh. "What about the third time, sir?" asked the EngineerCommander.
"Third time--ah, that was rather mysterious. We never discovered why hedid go ashore that day. I don't know now." The Mess scented a yarn;thrice-blessed was their Captain in that he could tell a yarn.
"We were cruising round that fringe of islands, part of the WindwardGroup, showing the Flag, and the Skipper decided to look in at a placecalled ... h'm'm. Can't remember what it's called--Port des something... Port des Reines, that's it,--what did you say, Selby?"
"Nothing, sir, go on..."
"The last place ever made, this Port des Reines, and it's not finishedyet--just a mountain and the remains of an old French settlement. Well,we anchored off this God-forsaken hole, and as soon as the Skipper hadhad a look at it he decided to up killick and out of it; as far as I canremember he had to go and lunch with the Consul, but he was to come offin a couple of hours' time; so we banked fires, and off went the Captainin the galley.
"No sooner had he gone than the Gunner--this funny old boy I've beentelling you about--came to my cabin (I was by way of being FirstLieutenant of that ship--we'd no Commander) and asked for leave to goashore.
"I was rather startled: couldn't imagine what on earth he wanted to do.I told him we were under sailing orders, and only staying a couple ofhours, and that it was an awful hole: had he any friends staying there,I asked him. No, he said, he had no friends there, but he particularlywanted to land there for an hour or so on urgent private affairs, as hecalled it.
"Well, he seemed in rather a stew about something, so I gave him leaveand lowered a boat. Off he went in his old bowler hat (he always wentashore in a bowler hat and a blue suit) armed with something wrapped upin paper; this turned out afterwards to be a sort of pick or jemmy hehad got the blacksmith to make for him a couple of days before; thatmust have been when he heard the ship was going to Port des Reines; itwas the only clue we ever had.
"Two hours later, at the expiration of his leave, he returned, lookingvery dusty and dejected, and reported himself. I chaffed him a bitabout going ashore, but nothing could I get out of him, and he nevervolunteered an explanation to any one, as far as I know."
A Lieutenant who had finished playing Bridge and had joined the group oflisteners round the fire leaned forward suddenly.
"D'you remember his name, sir?"
"No," said the Captain, "can't say I do. Never can remember names."
"Not a Mr Tyelake by any chance, sir?"
The Captain threw away the end of his cigarette and turned towards thespeaker. "Good Lord! Yes, that was it--Tyelake. But look here,Selby,----"
The Lieutenant rose and walked towards the door. "If you'll wait asecond, sir, I'll show you why he went ashore." He left the mess andreturned with a soiled sheet of paper in his hand; it was creased bymuch folding and discoloured with age.
The Captain turned it over and examined it. "But this doesn't explainmuch, does it? And how do you come to know old Tyelake? All thishappened twelve--fifteen--nearly twenty years ago, and he was pensionedsoon after. And anyhow, what's this got to do with it?"
"That," Selby turned the paper over, "that's the cemetery at Port desReines, sir,"--and then he told them of a walking tour in the WestCountry (omitting the reason for it and other superfluous details) sometwo years before, and of the old man who had since solved, it is to behoped to his satisfaction, his religious perplexities.
The Assistant Paymaster removed his glasses and blinked excitedly, aswas his habit when much moved. "But ... why couldn't he find it when hewent ashore? And why didn't----"
"Because he went to the wrong cemetery; there were two, d'you see, andhe dug up the wrong one and didn't find out there was another one tillafter they'd sailed. He never went there again."
"No," said the Captain. "That's right, we didn't."
The First Lieutenant laughed. "But just imagine him in that climate,tearing off the tombstones in his bowler hat and serge suit, with oneeye on his watch all the time, and only finding coffins...!"
"And then hearing when it was too late that he'd backed the wronghorse," added the Major of Marines.
"But...." began the A.P. again, "_How_ much did you say? Seventythousand pounds! My Aunt! Selby, have _you_ been there yet?"
Selby smiled and shook his head. "I? No, I've been 'Channel-groping'ever since; in fact, I'd forgotten all about it until the Captainmentioned Port des Reines. He was a very old man, and his wits werefailing----"
The Engineer Commander examined the plan. "But there may be somethingin the yarn, Selby. It seems almost worth while----"
"A treasure hunt!" broke in the A.P. "Let's all put in for a couple ofmonths' half-pay, and go out there! Hire a schooner, like they do inbooks."
"Schooner!" ejaculated the Major. "I can see myself setting sail forthe Antilles in a schooner! Ugh! It makes me feel queer to think ofit!"
"You'd look fine in a red smuggler's cap and thigh-boots, Major," saidthe First Lieutenant. "That's what treasure-hunters always wear."
"With a black patch over one eye, and the skull and cross-bonesembroidered on your brisket," supplemented an imaginative Watch-keeper."'Yo! ho! and a bottle of rum!'--can't you see yourself, Ma
jor? Onlyyou ought to have a wooden leg."
"Has anybody in the Mess ever been there?" inquired the Commander.
"Why, the P.M.O.'s just come home from the West Indies; where is he?"
At that moment the Fleet Surgeon entered, to be assailed by a volley ofquestions.
"P.M.O.! You're just the man! Where's Porte des Reines?"
"We're all going treasure-hunting in a schooner with the Major!"
"With the Jolly Roger at the fore!"
"P.M.O., have you ever been to Porte des Reines?"
"How many cemeteries are there there?"
"What's the law about digging up graves in the West Indies?"
"----And treasure trove?"
The Fleet Surgeon looked a little bewildered. "What are you all talkingabout? Porte des Reines? Yes, I've been there. I don't know about thecemeteries, but I've got some photographs of the place, if you're all soanxious to see it--they're in my cabin."
He left the Mess, and the storm of conjecture and speculation broke outafresh.
"I shall chuck the Service and buy a farm," said the First Lieutenant,"with my share."
"S-sh! Don't make such a row! One of the Servants will hear, and wedon't want it to get all over the ship! These things are much betterkept quiet. If there's anything in it, the fewer----"
The A.P.'s voice rose above the turmoil: "An' I shall buy a cycle-car... and a split-cane, steel-centred grilse-rod ... _and_ go toSwitzerland next winter--I----"
The Fleet Surgeon reappeared with a bulky album under his arm; he laidit on the card-table and turned the pages. "Now--there's Port desReines: what's left of it after the earthquake."
"Earthquake!" The Mess gathered round and leaned breathlessly over thetable.
"Yes; two years ago they had that awful earthquake, and the mountainshifted almost bodily; there's a million tons of rock on top of--well,you can see!"
They scanned the scene of desolation in silence. "It swallowed thewhole town," said some one in awestruck tones. The magnitude of acalamity had somehow never come home to them before quite so forcibly.
"Yes," replied the Fleet Surgeon calmly. "Town, such as it was, andchurch and cemeteries, mountain toppled down on top of them!"
There was a long, tense silence. "But----" began the A.P., stillclinging to his dreams of a split-cane grilse-rod with a steel centre.
"_Dry_ up!" snapped the First Lieutenant irritably.
"Oh Death, where is thy sting!" murmured the Major of Marines. "Seventythousand pounds buried under a mountain!"
The Captain rang the bell and ordered a sherry and bitters. "Well," hesaid, "thank Heaven I know at last why the Gunner went ashore!"
THE END.
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