The Quest of the 'Golden Hope': A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure
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CHAPTER IV
The _Madre de Dios_
My father opened his eyes wide, and his mouth also, so that his pipeclattered on the oaken floor and was broken into a score offragments.
"The _Madre de Dios_!" he exclaimed at length. "You speak truly--thesame _Madre de Dios_ concerning which Fergusson adventured himselfin the last reign?"
"The same, Captain Hammond. I have the secret under my thumb."
"You know where the wreck lies hidden?"
"Aye, but that matters little. The treasure is not in her, but liesin a safe place."
Even I had heard the wonderful story of the Spanish treasure ship.'Twas well known that in the last century Sir John Berkeley, duringhis attack upon Porto Rico, had captured a Spanish caravel, the_Madre de Dios_. On her he found pearls worth ten thousand ducats,gold dust, ingots, and other treasure to the value of 400,000pounds. Of this vast spoil Sir John shipped about one-half aboardhis own ship, sending the _Madre_ under convoy for England. Thecaravel, overtaken by a furious north-easterly gale, was lost withall hands amongst the islands of the Lesser Antilles, and althoughexpeditions innumerable had been sent out to discover the wreck,none had met with success. If Captain Jeremy Miles was not deceivinghimself and us also, a king's ransom was almost within his grasp.
"Pardon me if I put it bluntly," said my father, "but if you knowwhere the treasure lies, why have you not recovered it ere now?"
"That I'll explain, methinks, to your satisfaction, though 'tis along story. Yet, to put it briefly, I was cast away on the islandwhere the treasure lieth in the year 1674. For two years I was cutoff from my fellow-men, till a Spanish barque took me off. It goeswithout saying that I told the Dons naught concerning the treasure;but on setting foot in England once more, I took steps to obtaincommand of a vessel trading with the Indies. Yet ill fortunethwarted my purpose."
"How so?"
"Head winds and pestilence. Then, though I was averse to sharing mysecret, I applied to my Lord Rochester to intercede with the King;but, since I was only a plain merchant captain, and no King'sofficer, my lord must needs flout me and deride my statement."
"My Lord Rochester had his own views on this matter, I take it,"remarked my father. "There were no less than forty applications tohis late Majesty from would-be treasure seekers. Fergusson went andfailed; Captain Calcott did likewise, and now Phipps has been gonethese two years, spending the King's money and using his ships ofwar, which might be more profitably employed elsewhere. Nay, Icannot blame my Lord Rochester."
"But I do!" exclaimed Captain Miles vehemently. "Not for hisrefusal, mark you, for he's the loser on't, but for his churlishmanner. 'Twas mainly for this reason that I set out to joinMonmouth's standard, for, had all been well, I am certain he would,as a man of spirit and enterprise, have been willing to grant me aidin the search."
"The Duke will need all his spirit and enterprise to save his neckfrom the headsman's axe," replied my father. "But concerning thismatter?"
"I have a proposal to make, Captain Hammond. But ere we go farther,'tis worth while laying hands on the chart."
"Aye," replied my father. "The sale is fixed for to-morrow, so I'llto Lymington and secure the picture at all costs."
The subject was then dropped for the time, yet I did not fail tonotice that my sire was by no means in his usual spirits, but seemedpreoccupied, and inclined to irritability. Constance, too, noticedthe change.
"What doth he ponder over?" she asked. "Is there fresh troublecoming upon us? Have they discovered aught of that affair on theLyndhurst Road?" and she gave a little shudder at the remembrance ofit.
"Nay," I replied. "That affair has, I hope, blown over. Something isin the wind, nevertheless, for I doubt not that our father andCaptain Miles are engaging upon some profitable enterprise; it mayhappen that a voyage to the West Indies will restore the fortunes ofour house."
"But will father have to go to sea again?" she asked anxiously.
"It may so happen," I replied.
"And you----?"
"I would I could," I rejoined earnestly, for 'twas my cherishedambition to go to sea; yet I feared my father would withhold hisconsent.
The next day my father and I rode into Lymington, and having leftour horses at the "Hart", we repaired to Jeremy's house.
It was a long, low-built, thatched-roofed building, standing at thebottom of the steep High Street, and overlooking the muddy harbourwhere the Lym stream joins the sea. The door and the frames of thediamond-paned windows were painted a vivid green--possibly the workof the energetic seaman; while above the porch was nailed an effigyof a woman holding an arrow in her hand--the figurehead of one ofhis former vessels.
Crowds of eager and curious townsfolk were gathered without the dooron which the sheriff's notice of the sale was affixed, while twotip-staves, escorting a lean, pale-faced man, were trying to forcetheir way through the press of onlookers.
"'Tis the attorney for the Crown," whispered my father, pointing tothe white-faced man, who was evidently ill at ease. "'Tis fortunatefor him that he has a troop of horse within ear-shot, or I'llwarrant he would have a warm reception."
But even the presence of the soldiers, who were drawn up in an alleyleading to the quay, did not prevent volleys of rotten eggs andstreet garbage being directed against the sheriff's representative,till, the door being opened, he disappeared within, followed by theincensed townsfolk. Jeremy was, as I have mentioned, a generalfavourite in and around Lymington; and, besides, his rashparticipation in the revolt was not unfavourably regarded by hisfellow-townsmen, who took this opportunity of expressing theirpractical sympathy with the absent Captain.
By dint of much elbowing we succeeded in gaining admission to thehouse, and, to my inexperienced eyes, the scene within was strangeand pathetically interesting, as preparations were made to disposeof our friend's goods and chattels.
By threats, entreaties, and commands the sheriff's officer obtainedcomparative quiet, and amidst the groans of his audience he read theproclamation setting forth that the house and goods of CaptainJeremy Miles, he having been declared a traitor to His Majesty KingJames, were to be sold forthwith.
Thereupon one of the tip-staves produced a long wax candle having anumber of metal pegs stuck into it at regular intervals. This heproceeded to light; the first lot was announced, and the highestbid, ere the uppermost peg fell from the melted wax, secured thesubmitted article.
In the excitement, as bidder after bidder was outbidden, even thevoices of the malcontents were hushed; while as peg after pegdropped out and rebounded from the oaken table, the clang of thehammer could scarce drown the angry remonstrances of thedisappointed would-be purchasers.
Thus the auction proceeded, and from room to room we went, watchingthe disposal of the Captain's goods. One or two instruments ofnavigation my father secured, though, as I knew he already possessedsimilar ones, I guessed that they were for Jeremy's future use.
At length the parlour was reached, and between the heads of thecrowd and the low, raftered ceiling I caught a glimpse of thefateful painting--a ship under all plain sail, set with a vivid bluesea and a cloudless sky of an almost similar colour.
My father marked it likewise, for he straightened himself, andcoughed slightly once or twice to clear his throat.
"Lot Seventy-two. A painting by a worthy Neapolitan artist, MesserTito Cozzini, of--of--I cannot decipher the place--methinks it lookslike Foggia."
The taper was again applied to the candle, the feeble lightflickering dimly in the dusty, crowded room. No one seemed anxiousto possess the work of art, for my father, concealing hisimpatience, had purposely withheld his bid. The metal peg began todroop in its support of melting wax.
"A crown," said my father.