Wilt Thou Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER XV

  PASSING THE JOKE BUCK

  I don't mind admittin' that this treasure-huntin' stuff does get you.Course, while I was only an outsider, with no ticket even for abrokerage bite at the gate receipts, I wasn't runnin' any temperatureover the prospects.

  But now it was different. Vee and I had gone out and shown this poorprune of a Captain Killam where his bloomin' island was, we'd rescuedAuntie and Old Hickory from bein' stuck in the mud, and we'd beenofficially counted in as possible prize winners. More'n that, we'dseen the treasure mound.

  "Torchy," says Vee, the first chance we has for a few side remarksafter lunch that day, "what do you think? Is it full of gold andjewels?"

  "Well," says I, tryin' to look wise, "it might be, mightn't it? Andthen again you can't always tell."

  "But suppose it is?" insists Vee, her gray eyes bigger than ever.

  "I can't," says I. "It's too much of a strain. Honest, from what I'veseen of the country down here, it would be a miracle to run across asingle loose dollar, while as for uncoverin' it in bunches-- Say, Vee,how much of this pirate guff do you stand for, anyway?"

  "Why, you silly," says she. "Of course there were pirates--Lafitte andJose Gaspar and--and a lot of others. They robbed ships right off hereand naturally they buried their treasure when they came ashore."

  "What simps!" says I. "Then they went off and forgot, eh?"

  "Some were caught and hanged," says she, "and I suppose some werekilled fighting. No one can tell. It was all so long ago, you see.They're all gone. But the islands are still here, aren't they?"

  "I don't miss any," says I. "There's the mound, too. It's big enoughto hold forty truckloads."

  "Oh, there won't be that much," says she. "A few chests, perhaps. Butthink, Torchy, of digging up gold that has been lying there for ahundred years or more!"

  "I don't care how old it is," says I, "if it's the kind you can shovein at the receivin' teller and get credit for. What you plannin' toblow your share against?"

  "I hadn't thought much about that," says Vee. "Only that I once sawthe loveliest girdle made of old coins."

  Isn't that the girl of it!

  "You're a wonder, Vee," says I. "Here you stand to have a bundle ofeasy money wished on you, and all you can think of is winnin' a fancybelt."

  Vee giggles good-natured.

  "Well, Mister Solomon, what would you do with yours?"

  "Swap it for as many blocks of Corrugated preferred as my broker couldcollect," says I. "Then when we declared an extra dividend--"

  "Pooh!" says Vee. "You and Auntie are just alike."

  "Wouldn't it cheer Auntie up a lot to hear that?" says I. "I expectshe's busy spendin' her share, too."

  "I should say," announces Vee, "that we had all better be planning howto get that treasure on board the yacht. Captain Killam says wemustn't go there by day, you know, because someone might follow us.Then there's the crew. I wonder if they suspect anything?"

  Come to find out, that was what we was all wonderin'. Course, Rupertwould be the first to develop a case of nerves. He reports that he'scome across groups of 'em whisperin' mysterious. Which reminds Auntiethat she'd noticed something of the kind, too. Even Mr. Ellins admitsthat some of the men had acted sort of queer. And right while we'reholdin' our confab someone looks around and discovers that a sailor hasdrifted up sleuthy almost within earshot.

  "Hey, you!" calls out Old Hickory. "What are you doing there?"

  "Just touching up the brasswork, sir," says he.

  "Do your touching up some other time," orders Old Hickory. "Forwardwith you!"

  "Yes, sir," says the party in the white jumper, and sneaks off.

  "Listening!" says Rupert. "That's what he was doing."

  "Who knows what they may be plotting," says Auntie, "or what sort ofmen they are? Sailors are apt to be such desperate characters. Why,we might all be murdered in our beds!"

  "As likely as not," says Rupert gloomy.

  And you know how catchin' an idea like that is. Up to then we hadn'ttaken much notice of the crew, no more'n you do of the help anywhere.Oh, we'd got so we could tell the deck stewards apart. One was asquint-eyed little Cockney that misplaced his aitches, but was alwayson hand when you wanted anything. Another was a tall, lanky Swede whowas always "Yust coomin', sir." Then there was the bristly-hairedHungarian we called Goulash. They'd all seemed harmless enough before;but now we took to sizin' 'em up close. At dinner, when they wasservin' things, I glanced around and found all four of ourtreasure-huntin' bunch followin' every move made. The usual tablechatter had stopped, too.

  "Why!" says Mrs. Mumford, springin' that silly laugh of hers, "it mustbe twenty minutes of."

  Nobody says a word, for Ole and Goulash was servin' the fish course.You could see they was fussed, too. It was a queer sort ofdinner-party. I could tell by the look of Old Hickory's eyes thatsomething was coming from him. And sure enough, after coffee had beenpassed, he proceeds to tackle the situation square and solid, like healways does. He waves off the stewards and sends for Lennon, the yachtcaptain.

  One of these chunky, square-jawed gents, Captain Lennon is, and aboutas sociable as a traffic cop on duty. His job is runnin' the yacht,and he sticks to it.

  "Captain," says Mr. Ellins, "I want to know something about your crew.What are they like, now?"

  The Cap looks sort of puzzled.

  "Why, they're all right, I guess," says he.

  "Please don't guess," cuts in Auntie. "Are they all good, responsible,steady-going trust-worthy men, on whose character you can absolutelydepend?"

  "I couldn't say, madam," says he. "We don't get 'em from divinityschools."

  "Of course not," chimes in Old Hickory. "What we really want to knowis this: Do your men suspect what we are here for?"

  The Captain nods.

  "How much do they know--er--about the buried treasure, for instance?"demands Old Hickory.

  Captain Lennon shrugs his shoulders.

  "About twice as much as is so, I suppose," says he. "They're greatgossips, sailors--worse than so many old women."

  "Huh!" grunts Mr. Ellins. "And about how long have they known allthis?"

  "I overheard some of them talking about it before we sailed," says theCaptain. "There were those new shovels and picks, you know; perhapsthose set them guessing. Anyway, they were passing the word from thefirst."

  Mr. Ellins shakes his head and glances at Killam. Auntie presses herlips tight and stares from one to the other.

  "This is serious," says Old Hickory. "Why didn't you tell us of thisbefore?"

  "Why," says Captain Lennon, "I didn't think you'd like it, sir. AndI've warned the men."

  "Warned them against what?" asks Old Hickory.

  "Against showing their grins above decks," says the Captain. "Ofcourse, I can't stop their having their jokes in their own quarters."

  "Jokes?" echoes Mr. Ellins.

  "Jokes!" gasps Auntie.

  Captain Lennon hunches his shoulders again.

  "I thought you wouldn't like it, sir," says he; "but that's the waythey look at it. I've told them it was none of their business what youfolks did; that you could afford to hunt for buried treasure, or buriedbeans, or buried anything else, if you wanted to. And if you'll reportone of them even winking disrespectful, or showing the trace of a grin,I'll set him and his ditty bag ashore so quick--"

  "Thank you, Captain," breaks in Mr. Ellins, kind of choky; "that--thatwill be all."

  You should have seen the different expressions around that table afterthe Captain has gone. I don't know that I ever saw Old Hickoryactually look sheepish before. As for Auntie, she's almost ready toblow a fuse.

  "Well," says she explosive. "I like that! Jokes, are we?"

  "So it appears," says Mr. Ellins. "At any rate, we seem to be in nodanger from a mutinous crew. Our little enterprise merely amuses them."

  "Pooh!" says Auntie. "Ignorant sailors! What do they
know about--"

  But just then there booms in through the portholes this hearty hailfrom outside:

  "Ahoy the _Agnes_! Who's aboard there? Wha-a-a-at! Mr. Ellins, ofNew York. Well, well! Hey, you! Fend off there. I'm coming in."

  "Megrue!" says Old Hickory. "If it isn't I'll--"

  It was, all right: Bernard J. Megrue, one of our biggest Westerncustomers, president of a couple of railroads, and director in a lot ofcompanies that's more or less close to the Corrugated Trust. He's ahusk, Barney Megrue is--big and breezy, with crisp iron-gray hair,lively black eyes, and all the gentle ways of a section boss.

  He's got up in a complete khaki rig, includin' shirt and hat to match,and below the eyebrows he has a complexion like a mahogany sideboard.It don't take him long to make himself right to home among us.

  "Well, well!" says he, workin' a forced draught on one of Old Hickory'schoice cassadoras. "Who'd ever think of running across you down here?After tarpon, eh? That's me, too. Hung up my third fish for theseason only yesterday; a beauty, too--hundred and sixty-threepounds--and it took me just two hours and forty-five minutes to makethe kill. But say, Ellins, this is no stand for real strikes. Now,you move up to Boca Grande to-morrow and I'll show you fishing that'ssomething like."

  "Thanks, Barney," says Old Hickory, "but I'm no whaler. In fact, I'mno fisherman at all."

  "Oh, I see," says Megrue. "Just cruising, eh? Well, that's all rightif you like it. People come to Florida for all sorts of things. Whichreminds me of something rich. Heard it from my boatman. He tells methere's a party of New York folks down here hunting for pirate gold.Haw, haw! How about that, eh?"

  Embarrassin' pause. Very. Nobody dared look at anybody else. Atleast, I didn't. I was waverin' between a gasp and a snicker, and wasnearly chokin' over it, when Old Hickory clears his throat raspy andmenacin'.

  "Well, what about it?" he asks snappy.

  "Why," says Megrue, "it seems too good to be true, that's all. As Itold the boys up at the hotel, if there are any real treasure-huntingbugs around, I want to get a good look at 'em--especially if they'refrom New York. That's one on you, eh, Ellins? Proves you have a fewfolks in the big town who have bats in their belfries, don't it?"

  That gets an uneasy squirm out of Old Hickory, but he comes right backat him.

  "Just why?" he demands.

  "Why, great Scott, Ellins," goes on Megrue enthusiastic, "don't youknow that buried treasure stuff is the stalest kind of tourist bait inuse on the whole Florida coast? The hotel people have been handingthat out for the past fifty years. Wouldn't think anyone could bestill found who'd bite at it, would you? But it seems they exist.Every once in a while a new lot of come-ons show up, with their oldcharts and their nice new shovels, and go to digging. Why, I was showna place just north of Little Gasparilla--Cotton River, they callit--where the banks have been dug up for miles by these simple-mindednuts.

  "Every now and then, too, they circulate that musty tale about an oldSpaniard, in Tampa or Fort Myers or somewhere, who whispers deathbeddirections about finding a chest of gold buried at the foot of a lonepalmetto on some key or other. And say, they tell me there isn't alone tree on this section of the coast that hasn't been dug up by theroots. Good old human nature can't be downed, can it? You cansuppress the green-goods and gold-brick games, but folks will still goto shoveling sand if you mention pirates to 'em. What I want is to see'em at it once."

  The harder you jolt Old Hickory, though, the steadier he gets.

  "Huh!" says he, smilin' sarcastic. "An ambition such as yours ought tobe gratified. Take a good look at us, Megrue."

  "Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Barney, starin' at him. "You--you don't meanthat--that--"

  "Precisely," says Old Hickory. "We are the crack-brained New Yorkersyou are so anxious to see."

  Well, when he recovers his breath he does his best to square himself.He apologizes four different ways, gettin' in deeper with every turn,until finally he edges towards the stairs and makes his escape.

  "At least," remarks Old Hickory, "I suppose it is something to providea source of innocent merriment. I trust we are not overlooking anyonewho might wish to be amused."

  Before the evenin' was over he had his answer. About eight-thirty outcomes a fast motor-boat and ties up alongside without askin' leave.Reporters, two of 'em. They climbs up, grinnin' and amiable, speciallythe fat one in the tight-fittin' Palm Beach suit. They wanted to knowwhen we was goin' to start digging and if we'd mind their bringin' outa movie machine, so one of 'em could get a few hundred feet of film fora picture news service that he represented.

  "It ought to be great stuff," says Fatty.

  "Young man," says Old Hickory, breathin' hard and talkin' through histeeth, "have you any idea what a splash you'd make if you were droppedoverboard?"

  "Oh, come, guv'nor," protests Fatty; "we only want to--"

  About then, though, he decides to make a scramble for his boat and theinterview was off. Old Hickory stands glarin' after the pair untilthey're out of sight. Then he chuckles unpleasant.

  "For a private, not to say secret, enterprise," says he, "it occurs tome that ours is rather well advertised. What next, I wonder?"

  "There's a big boat headed this way on the other side," says I. "Seemsto me I hear a band, too."

  "Excursionists!" says Auntie. "Do you suppose they would have theimpudence?"

  "Looks like a moonlight round trip, with the _Agnes_ as the object ofinterest," says I. "Yep! They've got the searchlight on us."

  "This is insufferable!" says Auntie, and beats it below, to lockherself in her stateroom.

  "Gr-r-r-r!" remarks Old Hickory, and follows suit.

  We never did trace out who had done such thorough press work for us;but I have my suspicions it was the chief steward, who went ashorereg'lar every morning after milk and cream. But the round-tripperssurely was well posted. We could hear 'em talkin' us over, shoutin'their comments above the rumble of the engine.

  Vee and I didn't want to miss any of it, so we hikes up on the bridgeand camps behind the canvas spray shield. Captain Lennon come up, too,sort of standin' guard. It was 'most like bein' under fire in thetrenches.

  "That's her--the _Agnes_ of New York!" we heard 'em sing out. "My,what a perfectly swell yacht, Minnie! Ain't they the boobs, though?Hey, Sam, why dontcher ask them squirrels can they make a noise like anut? Huntin' pirate gold, are they? Who's been kiddin' 'em that way?"

  "Little sample of Southern hospitality, I expect," says I. "All theylack is a few ripe eggs and some garden confetti."

  "I wonder if Auntie can hear?" giggles Vee. "Do you know what thismakes me feel like? As if I were a person in a cartoon."

  "You've said it," says I. "What I mind most, though, is that freshgink with the searchlight. Say, Cap'n, why couldn't we turn ours looseat him as a come-back?"

  "Go ahead," says Captain Lennon, throwin' a switch.

  Say, that was a great little thought, for the _Agnes_ has ahigh-powered glim, and when I swung it onto that excursion boat it madetheirs look like a boardin'-house gas jet with the pressure low. Youcould see the folks blinkin' and battin' their eyes as if they was halfblinded. Nest I picks up the pilot house and gives the man at thewheel the full benefit.

  "Hey! Take off that light," he sings out. "I can't see where I'mrunnin'. Take it off!"

  "Switch off yours, then, you mutt," says I, "and run your cheapsandwich gang back where they belong under the hominy vines."

  My, don't that raise a howl, though! They wanted to mob us for keepsthen, and all sorts of junk begun to fly through the air. Then Cap'nLennon took a hand.

  "Sheer off there!" he orders, "or I'll turn the fire hose on yon."

  Well, the excursion captain stayed long enough to pass the time of day,but when he saw the sailors unreelin' the hose he got a move on; and inhalf an hour we was lyin' quiet again in the moonlight.

  Must have been well on towards midnight, and I was just ready to turni
n when Mr. Ellins comes paddin' out of his stateroom, luggin' twopairs of hip rubber boots.

  "Torchy," says he, "call Killam, will you?"

  By the time I'd routed out Rupert, I finds Auntie and Vee waitin' inthe main cabin, all dressed for travel.

  "I may be the oldest joke on record," says Old Hickory, "but I proposeto know before morning what is in that mound. Of course, if anyonefeels foolish about going--"

  "I do, for one," speaks up Auntie, "and I should think you would, too,Matthew Ellins. We've been told how silly we are enough timesto-night, haven't we?"

  "We have," says Old Hickory. "Which is just why I propose to see thisthing through."

  "And I am quite as stubborn as you are," says Auntie. "That is why Iam going, too."

  Vee and I didn't put up any apologies. We just trailed along silent.As for Rupert, he'd been kicked around so much the last few days thathe hadn't a word to say. Here he was, too, right on the verge of thebig test that he'd been workin' up to so long, and he's so meek hehardly dares open his head. When we starts pilin' into the launch heshows up with a couple of bundles.

  "What the syncopated seraphims have you there?" demands Old Hickory.

  "Gas bombs," says Rupert. "To clear out the snakes."

  "Careful with 'em," growls Old Hickory. "What else?"

  "A few canvas bags for--for the treasure, sir," says Rupert, duckin'his head sheepish. "Shall--shall I put them in?"

  "Oh, you might as well," says Old Hickory.

  And once more, with Vee at the wheel, we sneaks off in the moonlightfor Nunca Secos Key. We wasn't a chatty lot of adventurers. I expectwe all felt like we was about to open an April fool package, and wishedthe others hadn't been there to watch. None of us could pass anyoneelse the laugh; that was some satisfaction.

  There was enough outsiders, though, to give us the titter. Megrue wassure to spread the tale among Old Hickory's business friends. And whoknew what that pair of foiled interviewers would do to us? Some oftheir stuff might get into the New York papers. Then wouldn't Mr.Ellins be let in for a choice lot of joshin'! No wonder he sitschewin' savage at a cold cigar.

  When we gets near the little island, though, he rouses up. He pulls ona pair of wadin' boots and, tosses another pair to me. Rupert, he'sall fixed up for rough work, and even Vee has brought some high huntin'shoes.

  So, when we lands, each takes a shiny new spade or a pick and makesready to explore the mound that looms mysterious through the mangrovebushes. First off, Rupert has to toss out a couple of gas bombs, incase there might be rattlers roamin' around. And, believe me, anysnake that could stand that smell was entitled to stay on the ground.It's ten or fifteen minutes before we dared go near ourselves. Rupertsuggests that we start a tunnel in from the bottom, and sort of relayeach other as our wind gives out.

  "Very well," says Old Hickory. "It's a good many years since I did anyexcavating, but I think I can still swing a pick."

  Say, he could; that is, for a five-minute stretch. And while he'srestin' up I tackles it. I didn't last so long, either. Rupert,though, comes out strong. He makes the sand fly at a great rate. Veestands by, holdin' an electric torch, while Auntie watches from theboat.

  "We're makin' quite a hole in it, Mr. Ellins," says I, sort ofencouragin'.

  "It is the usual thing to do, I believe," says he, "before owning upthat you've been fooled. Here, Killam, let me have another go at that."

  He don't do it because he's excited about it, but just because it's histurn. In fact, we'd all got to about that stage. We'd shoveled out awagon load or two of old roots and sand and rotten shells withoutuncoverin' so much as a rusty nail, and it looked like we might keep onuntil mornin' with the same amazin' success. Considerin' that we washalf beaten before we started, we'd done a pretty fair job. It wasjust a question now of how soon somebody'd have nerve enough to make amotion that we quit. That's when we had our first little flutter.

  "Huh!" says Old Hickory, jabbin' in with his spade. "Must have strucka log. Hand me a pick, someone."

  "When he makes a swing with that, the point goes in solid and sticks.

  "Right! It is a log," he announces.

  Killam tests it, and he says it's a log, too.

  "An old palmetto trunk," says he, proddin' at it. "Two of them, onelaid on the other. No, three. I say, that's funny. Let's clear awayall of this stuff."

  So we goes at it, all three at once, and inside of fifteen minutes wecan see what looks like the side of a little log cabin.

  "If this was out in Wisconsin," says Old Hickory, "I should say we'dfound somebody's root cellar. But who would build such a thing inFlorida?"

  "Come on," says Killam, his voice sort of shrill and quivery. "I haveone of the logs loose. Now pry here with your picks, everybody.Together, now! It's coming! Once more! There! Now the next oneabove. Oh, put your weight on it, Mr. Ellins. Get a fresh hold. Tryher now. It's giving! Again. Harder. Look out for your toes! Andlet's have that light here, Miss Verona. Flash it into this hole.Isn't that a--a--"

  "It's a barrel," says Vee.

  "Water butt," says Killam. "An old ship's water butt. There are thestaves of another, fallen apart. And look! Will--you--look, all ofyou!"

  Would we? Say, we was crowded around that black hole in the mound asthick as noon lunchers at a pie counter. And we was strainin' our eyesto see what the faint light of the torch was tryin' to show up. All ofa sudden I reaches in and makes a grab at something, bringin' out afistful.

  "Hard money," says I, "or I don't know the feel!"

  "Why, it--it's gold!" says Vee, bringin' her flashlight close.

  "There's more of it, a lot more!" shouts Killam, who has his head andshoulders inside and is pawin' around excited. "Quarts and quarts ofit! And jewels, too! I say, Mr. Ellins! Jewels! Didn't I tell youwe'd find 'em? See, here they are. See those! And those! Didn't Isay so?"

  "You did, Captain," admits Old Hickory. "You certainly did. And for atime I was just ass enough to believe you, wasn't I?"

  "Oh, Auntie!" calls Vee. "We've found it! Honest to goodness we have.Come and see."

  "As though I wasn't coming as fast as I could, child!" says Auntie, whohas scrambled over the bow somehow and is plowin' towards us with herskirts gripped high on either side.

  Thrillin'! Say, I don't believe any of us could tell just what we diddo for the next half hour or so. I remember once Old Hickory gotjammed into the hole and we had to pry him out. And another time, whenwe was rollin' out the cask, it was Auntie who helped me pull itthrough and ease it down the slope. She'd lost most of her hairpinsand her gray hair was hangin' down her back. Also, she'd stepped onthe front of her skirt and ripped off a breadth. But them triflesdidn't seem to bother her a bit.

  "Ho, ho!" she warbles merry. "Gold and jewels! The jewels of oldSpain and of the days of Louis Fourteenth. Pirate gold! We've dug it!The very thing I've always wanted to do ever since I was a little girl.Ho, ho!"

  "And I rather guess," adds Old Hickory, fishin' a broken cigar out ofhis vest pocket, "that as treasure hunters we're not such thunderingjokes, after all. Eh?"

  And say, when Old Hickory starts crowin' you can know he sees clearthrough to daylight. I looks over my shoulder just then, and, sureenough, it's beginnin' to pink up in the east.

  "My dope is," says I, "that it's goin' to be a large, wide day.Anyhow, it opens well."