CHAPTER XXII
ABOUT A PIRATES’ TREASURE
Morning found the five castaways resting as comfortably as they could in the jungle on the edge of the sandy beach. The storm had passed completely, and only a mild wind had succeeded the hurricane. But the waves were still angry and foamed and boiled as they struck the keys beyond the beach.
Utterly exhausted, one after another of the Rover boys had dropped to sleep. The last to lie down had been Jack. The young major had found some rain water in a hollow between the trees and bushes, and had given Ira Small a drink. The old sailor was still suffering, but none of the boys knew what more they could do for him, except to place him upon as comfortable a couch as the edge of the jungle provided.
It was a sorry looking crowd that came together for a consultation shortly after the sun arose. The boys were still wet to the skin, but as it was comparatively warm, they did not mind this a great deal. They hung up their jackets and took off their shoes and socks and thus proceeded to dry themselves as best they could.
“It certainly does look lonely around here,” remarked Fred, after taking an observation in every direction. “Not a settlement nor a craft of any kind in sight!”
“It looks like a deserted island to me,” remarked Jack. “Or, otherwise, it’s an unusually lonely bit of coast.”
Now that they had rested, all felt the pangs of hunger. Water was to be had in sufficient quantities for drinking purposes, but the jungle, as far as they could see, afforded nothing in the way of food.
“Anyhow, that hurricane ought to have thrown some fish up on the beach, and maybe we can find some oysters,” suggested Randy.
“Why not take a look around for the raft?” came from his twin brother. “It got stuck for a moment when I came ashore, and I can’t believe but what the hurricane cast it up somewhere around here.”
“Don’t leave me!” groaned the lanky sailor, propping himself up on one of his arms. “Don’t leave me all alone in this out-of-the-way place.”
“We’re not going to leave you, Small,” answered Jack, kindly. “We’ll do what we can for you, never fear.”
“You saved my life, lad,” went on the old tar, gratefully. “I ain’t never goin’ to forgit it, neither. You know what I said about them thirteen rocks and the pirates’ gold. If I ever lay hands on that gold, you’re goin’ to git a big share of it.”
“What I’d like to lay my hands on just now is a roast-beef sandwich,” said Andy. “I feel hollow right down to my toes.”
“Yes, a sandwich and a good cup of hot coffee,” put in Fred.
As Andy’s foot still hurt him, it was decided that he was to remain with the sailor while the three other boys walked down the beach in the direction where Andy had landed.
For a long while the searchers found nothing of interest outside of several small fish they discovered flapping around in a pool well up on the beach.
“There are a couple of meals, anyhow,” said Jack. “That is, if we can make a fire to cook them over.”
“Oh, we’ll make a fire all right enough. I’ve seen it done several times, when the party didn’t have any matches,” declared Fred. “Of course, it isn’t very easy.”
“I’ll tell you what we can do,” suggested Randy. “If there are any birds around we might bring them down either with the firearms or with bows and arrows.”
The three Rover boys continued their explorations until almost noon, and then, to their satisfaction, caught sight of the raft being slowly pounded to pieces on a series of keys just outside the tiny bay previously mentioned.
“There she is!” exclaimed Jack, who was the one to make the discovery.
The improvised raft still hung together, and so far as they could see their stores were still upon it. But the sea was pounding it heavily, sending the spray completely over it.
“Maybe if we had a line heavy enough we could haul the raft ashore,” suggested Randy.
He had scarcely spoken when the force of the waves made the raft break loose from the keys upon which it was stuck, and an instant later it surged shoreward.
“It’s coming in!” cried Fred. “Let’s see if we can’t haul it up somehow or other.”
The next fifteen minutes were filled with strenuous exertions on the part of the three Rover boys. Twice the wreckage came up on the sand, and they did their best to hold it, but without success. Then they managed to get hold of two of the ropes which lashed the wreckage together, and, watching their opportunity, they waited for an extra high wave and then ran the wreckage up the beach as far as they possibly could.
“Now come on and tie it fast!” yelled Jack.
He had found a loose end of one of the ropes. Tying this to another rope they had found on the wreckage, they ran up the beach and anchored the improvised raft fast to a palm tree.
“Now let’s get the stuff ashore before the raft has a chance to break loose,” directed the young major.
Working with feverish haste, the three boys pitched boxes and crates and canned goods out on the sand above the reach of the ocean. It was well that they did this, for before they had finished their task the wreckage began to go to pieces. The continual pounding of the elements had snapped a number of the ropes, and now one bit of timber after another drifted away.
“Come on! Let us take the wreckage up as high as we can get it!” directed Jack. “That stuff may come in useful as firewood, if for nothing else.” And so what was left of the raft was presently hauled to a place of safety.
It did not take the boys long to look over the stores, and, carrying what they needed, they hurried back to where they had left Andy and the lanky sailor.
They had matches in a water-tight box, and soon a fire was lighted and a meal started, much to every one’s satisfaction. After the meal Ira Small felt better. He was not yet able to get on his feet, stating that his legs felt too shaky; but he insisted upon sitting up and taking part in the discussion of what should be their next move.
“I reckon we’re on a little island of the West Indies,” said the old tar. “There’s dozens an’ dozens of ’em scattered fur hundreds o’ miles around. Most of the islands have settlements, but there’s a lot of ’em that ain’t visited once a year. The folks down here can’t grow nothin’ on ’em, an’ couldn’t git the stuff to market if they did, an’ so the islands are left to themselves, not bein’ near where ships usually travel.”
“Was it on one of these islands that your thirteen rocks and the pirates’ gold was located?” questioned Randy, curiously.
“That’s it, lad. An’ if I ever git my hands on that gold, you lads are goin’ to have a fair share of it. I ain’t never goin’ to forgit how Jack, here, saved my life.”
“Tell us something about the pirates’ gold, will you?” questioned Fred. The search and the work of the morning had tired him completely, and he was content to rest for a while after eating.
“To go into the details would be a long yarn, lad—longer nor any of you would care to listen to,” answered Ira Small. “Howsomever, here is the gist of it:
“About five year ago I fell in with two old sailors who hailed from Jamaica. They was talkin’ about the thirteen rocks and pirates’ gold, and one of ’em had several snap-shot photygraphs of them thirteen rocks and where they was located on an island. They said the place wasn’t so very far from Porto Rico, an’ they tried to figure out how to locate that island, which they had once visited. The thirteen rocks was located in something of a circle, an’ in the center of it was a flat rock, an’ under that the treasure of gold hidden by Zalopa, an old South American pirate, and his men.”
“Gee, I’d like to locate that pirates’ treasure!” murmured Fred, his eyes glistening. “What do you suppose it’s worth?”
“Them old sailors thought it was worth a big amount, although how much they couldn’t exactly say,” answered Ira Small.
“Where are the sailors now?” questioned Jack.
“Both dead. They got smallpox, an’ nobody would nurse ’em but me. I stayed with ’em till they died, an’ they was so grateful they said I could have the treasure if I could find it. They told me all they could about it. After their death I got smallpox myself, but it didn’t amount to a great deal. I reckon I was too thin an’ leathery,” answered the lanky sailor solemnly.
“And you’ve never had a chance to look for the treasure?” questioned Randy.
“Not much of a chance. You see, after I had the smallpox I had to earn my livin’ an’ I didn’t have no time to go treasure huntin’. But some day, if I can git anybody int’rested, I’m goin’ to git a ship an’ sail aroun’ lookin’ fur an island with them thirteen rocks.”
“Did you save the pictures?” asked Andy.
“I got two of ’em. The rest got tore up an’ lost. The two are sewed up in a pocket o’ my shirt. Some day I’ll show ’em to you,” answered the old tar.
It was fascinating to speculate upon a pirates’ treasure, but just at present the boys felt that they must turn their attention to conditions as they now existed.
“I’m going to try to climb up one of those tall palm trees and take a look around,” announced Jack, a little later. “I’ve seen pictures of how the natives go up those trees, and I’m going to try the stunt.”
He took a stout rope, and, going to one of the trees, proceeded to pass the rope around his body under the arms and then around the tree, leaving a slack of about two feet. Then, barefooted as he was, he started to ascend the palm tree by grasping the bark with his toes and sliding the rope up from one point to another, bearing back on the rope from time to time to keep it from slipping.
Jack had read about this method of ascending a tree, and had even seen a moving picture of a native climbing in this fashion. It had looked easy enough in the picture, but he soon realized that ascending in this fashion was anything but easy. However, he was determined to get up, and after a prolonged effort managed to reach a point where he could look around for a considerable distance.
“What do you see?” called out Randy, eagerly.
“I don’t see much of anything,” was Jack’s answer. “We’re on an island. There isn’t any settlement, and not a ship of any kind is in sight.”