CHAPTER XVIII. MRS. CLIFF IS AMAZED
After the captain set sail in his little boat, the party which he left behind him lived on in an uneventful, uninteresting manner, which, gradually, day by day, threw a shadow over the spirits of each one of them.
Ralph, who always slept in the outer chamber of the caves, had been a very faithful guardian of the captain’s treasure. No one, not even himself, had gone near it, and he never went up to the rocky promontory on which he had raised his signal-pole without knowing that the two negroes were at a distance from the caves, or within his sight.
For a day or two after the captain’s departure Edna was very quiet, with a fancy for going off by herself. But she soon threw off this dangerous disposition, and took up her old profession of teacher, with Ralph as the scholar, and mathematics as the study. They had no books nor even paper, but the rules and principles of her specialty were fresh in her mind, and with a pointed stick on a smooth stretch of sand diagrams were drawn and problems worked out.
This occupation was a most excellent thing for Edna and her brother, but it did not help Mrs. Cliff to endure with patience the weary days of waiting. She had nothing to read, nothing to do, very often no one to talk to, and she would probably have fallen into a state of nervous melancholy had not Edna persuaded her to devote an hour or two each day to missionary work with Mok and Cheditafa. This Mrs. Cliff cheerfully undertook. She was a conscientious woman, and her methods of teaching were peculiar. She had an earnest desire to do the greatest amount of good with these poor, ignorant negroes, but, at the same time, she did not wish to do injury to any one else. The conviction forced itself upon her that if she absolutely converted Cheditafa from the errors of his native religion, she might in some way invalidate the marriage ceremony which he had performed.
“If he should truly come to believe,” she said to herself, “that he had no right to marry the captain and Edna, his conscience might make him go back on the whole business, and everything that we have done would be undone. I don’t want him to remain a heathen any longer than it can possibly be helped, but I must be careful not to set his priesthood entirely aside until Edna’s position is fixed and settled. When the captain comes back, and we all get home, they must be married regularly; but if he never comes back, then I must try to make Cheditafa understand that the marriage is just as binding as any other kind, and that any change of religious opinion that he may undergo will have no effect upon it.”
Accordingly, while she confined her religious teachings to very general principles, her moral teachings were founded upon the strictest code, and included cleanliness and all the household virtues, not excepting the proper care of such garments as an indigent human being in a tropical climate might happen to possess.
In spite, however, of this occupation, Mrs. Cliffs spirits were not buoyant. “I believe,” she thought, “things would have been more cheerful if they had not married; but then, of course, we ought to be willing to sacrifice cheerfulness at present to future prosperity.”
It was more than a month after the departure of the captain that Ralph, from his point of observation, perceived a sail upon the horizon. He had seen sails there before, but they never grew any larger, and generally soon disappeared, for it would lengthen the course of any coasting-vessel to approach this shore. But the sail that Ralph saw now grew larger and larger, and, with the aid of his little spy-glass, it was not long before he made up his mind that it was coming toward him. Then up went his signal-flag, and, with a loud hurrah, down went he to shout out the glad news.
Twenty minutes later it was evident to the anxiously peering eyes of every one of the party that the ship was actually approaching the shore, and in the heart of each one of them there was a bounding delight in the feeling that, after all these days of weary waiting, the captain was coming back.
As the ship drew nearer and nearer, she showed herself to be a large vessel — a handsome bark. About half a mile from the shore, she lay to, and very soon a boat was lowered.
Edna’s heart beat rapidly and her face flushed as, with Ralph’s spy-glass to her eyes, she scanned the people in the boat as it pulled away from the ship.
“Can you make out the captain?” cried Ralph, at her side.
She shook her head, and handed him the glass. For full five minutes the boy peered through it, and then he lowered the glass.
“Edna,” said he, “he isn’t in it.”
“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, “do you mean to say that the captain is not in that boat?”
“I am sure of it,” said Ralph. “And if he isn’t in the boat, of course he is not on the ship. Perhaps he did not have anything to do with that vessel’s coming here. It may have been tacking in this direction, and so come near enough for people to see my signal.”
“Don’t suppose things,” said Edna, a little sharply. “Wait until the boat comes in, and then we will know all about it. — Here, Cheditafa,” said she, “you and Mok go out into the water and help run that boat ashore as soon as it is near enough.”
It was a large boat containing five men, and when it had been run up on the sand, and its occupants had stepped out, the man at the tiller, who proved to be the second mate of the bark, came forward and touched his hat. As he did so, no sensible person could have imagined that he had accidentally discovered them. His manner plainly showed that he had expected to find them there. The conviction that this was so made the blood run cold in Edna’s veins. Why had not the captain come himself?
The man in command of the boat advanced toward the two ladies, looking from one to the other as he did so. Then, taking a letter from the pocket of his jacket, he presented it to Edna.
“Mrs. Horn, I believe,” he said. “Here is a letter from your husband.”
Now, it so happened that to Mrs. Cliff, to Edna, and to Ralph this recognition of matrimonial status seemed to possess more force and value than the marriage ceremony itself.
Edna’s face grew as red as roses as she took the letter.
“From my husband,” she said; and then, without further remark, she stepped aside to read it.
But Mrs. Cliff and Ralph could not wait for the reading of the letter. They closed upon the mate, and, each speaking at the same moment, demanded of him what had happened to Captain Horn, why he had not come himself, where he was now, was this ship to take them away, and a dozen similar questions. The good mariner smiled at their impatience, but could not wonder at it, and proceeded to tell them all he knew about Captain Horn and his plans.
The captain, he said, had arrived at Callao some time since, and immediately endeavored to get a vessel in which to go after the party he had left, but was unable to do so. There was nothing in port which answered his purpose. The captain seemed to be very particular about the craft in which he would be willing to trust his wife and the rest of the party.
“And after having seen Mrs. Horn,” the mate politely added, “and you two, I don’t wonder he was particular. When Captain Horn found that the bark out there, the Mary Bartlett, would sail in a week for Acapulco, Mexico, he induced the agents of the company owning her to allow her to stop to take off the shipwrecked party and carry them to that port, from which they could easily get to the United States.”
“But why, in the name of common sense,” almost screamed Mrs. Cliff, “didn’t he come himself? Why should he stay behind, and send a ship to take us off?”
“That, madam,” said the mate, “I do not know. I have met Captain Horn before, for he is well known on this coast, and I know he is a man who understands how to attend to his own business, and, therefore, I suppose he has good reasons for what he has done — which reasons, no doubt, he has mentioned in his letter to his wife. All I can tell you is that, after he had had a good deal of trouble with the agents, we were at last ordered to touch here. He could not give us the exact latitude and longitude of this spot, but as his boat kept on a straight westward course after he left here, he got a good idea of the latitude from the Mexican brig which he boarded three days afterwards. Then he gave us a plan of the coast, which helped us very much, and soon after we got within sight of land, our lookout spied that signal you put up. So here we are; and I have orders to take you all off just as soon as possible, for we must not lie here a minute longer than is necessary. I do not suppose that, under the circumstances, you have much baggage to take away with you, and I shall have to ask you to get ready to leave as soon as you can.”
“All right,” cried Ralph. “It won’t take us long to get ready.”
But Mrs. Cliff answered never a word. In fact, the injunction to prepare to leave had fallen unheeded upon her ear. Her mind was completely occupied entirely with one question: Why did not the captain come himself?
She hastened to Edna, who had finished reading the letter, and now stood silent, holding it in her hand.
“What does he say?” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. “What are his reasons for staying away? What does he tell you about his plans? Read us the letter. You can leave out all the loving and confidential parts, but give us his explanations. I never was so anxious to know anything in all my life.”
“I will read you the whole of it,” said Edna. “Here, Ralph.”
Her brother came running up. “That man is in an awful hurry to get away,” he said. “We ought to go up to the caves and get our things.”
“Stay just where you are,” said Mrs. Cliff. “Before we do anything else, we must know what Captain Horn intends to do, and what he wants us to do.”
“That’s so!” cried Ralph, suddenly remembering his guardianship. “We ought to know what he says about leaving that mound. Read away, Edna.”
The three stood at some little distance from the sailors, who were now talking with Cheditafa, and Edna read the letter aloud:
“Lima, May 14, 1884.
“MY DEAR WIFE: I reached this city about ten days ago. When I left you all I did not sail down the coast, but stood directly out to sea. My object was to reach a shipping-port, and to do this my best plan was to get into the track of coasting-vessels. This plan worked well, and in three days we were picked up by a Mexican guano brig, and were taken to Callao, which is the port of Lima. We all arrived in good health and condition.
“This letter will be brought to you by the bark Mary Bartlett, which vessel I have engaged to stop for you, and take you and the whole party to Acapulco, which is the port of the City of Mexico, from which place I advise you to go as soon as possible to San Francisco. I have paid the passage of all of you to Acapulco, and I inclose a draft for one thousand dollars for your expenses. I would advise you to go to the Palmetto Hotel, which is a good family house, and I will write to you there and send another draft. In fact, I expect you will find my letter when you arrive, for the mail-steamer will probably reach San Francisco before you do. Please write to me as soon as you get there, and address me here, care of Nasco, Parmley & Co.”
An exclamation of impatience here escaped from Mrs. Cliff. In her opinion, the reasons for the non-appearance of the captain should, have been the first thing in the letter.
“When I reached Lima, which is six miles from Callao,” the letter continued, “I disposed of some of the property I brought with me, and expect to sell it all before long. Being known as a Californian, I find no difficulty in disposing of my property, which is in demand here, and in a very short time I shall have turned the whole of it into drafts or cash. There is a vessel expected here shortly which I shall be able to charter, and as soon as I can do so I shall sail in her to attend to the disposition of the rest of my property. I shall write as frequently as possible, and keep you informed of my operations.
“Of course, you understand that I could not go on the Mary Bartlett to join you and accompany you to Acapulco, for that would have involved too great a loss of time. My business must be attended to without delay, and I can get the vessel I want here.
“The people of the Mary Bartlett will not want to wait any longer than can be helped, so you would all better get your baggage together as soon as possible and go on board. The two negroes will bring down your baggage, so there will be no need for any of the sailors to go up to the caves. Tell Ralph not to forget the charge I gave him if they do go up. When you have taken away your clothes, you can leave just as they are the cooking-utensils, the blankets, and everything else. I will write to you much more fully by mail. Cannot do so now. I hope you may all have a quick and safe voyage, and that I may hear from you immediately after you reach Acapulco. I hope most earnestly that you have all kept well, and that no misfortune has happened to any of you. I shall wait with anxiety your letter from Acapulco. Let Ralph write and make his report. I will ask you to stay in San Francisco until more letters have passed and plans are arranged. Until further notice, please give Mrs. Cliff one fourth of all moneys I send. I cannot insist, of course, upon her staying in San Francisco, but I would advise her to do so until things are more settled.
“In haste, your husband,
“Philip Horn.”
“Upon my word!” ejaculated Mrs. Cliff, “a most remarkable letter! It might have been written to a clerk! No one would suppose it the first letter of a man to his bride! Excuse me, Edna, for speaking so plainly, but I must say I am shocked. He is very particular to call you his wife and say he is your husband, and in that way he makes the letter a valuable piece of testimony if he never turns up, but — well, no matter.”
“He is mighty careful,” said Ralph, “not to say anything about the gold. He speaks of his property as if it might be Panama stock or something like that. He is awfully wary.”
“You see,” said Edna, speaking in a low voice, “this letter was sent by private hands, and by people who were coming to the spot where his property is, and, of course, it would not do to say anything that would give any hint of the treasure here. When he writes by mail, he can speak more plainly.”
“I hope he may speak more plainly in another way,” said Mrs. Cliff. “And now let us go up and get our things together. I am a good deal more amazed by the letter than I was by the ship.”
CHAPTER XIX. LEFT BEHIND
“Ralph,” said Edna, as they were hurrying up to the caves, “you must do everything you can to keep those sailors from wandering into the lake basin. They are very different from the negroes, and will want to explore every part of it.”
“Oh, I have thought of all that,” said Ralph, “and I am now going to run ahead and smash the lantern. They won’t be so likely to go poking around in the dark.”
“But they may have candles or matches,” said Edna. “We must try to keep them out of the big cave.”
Ralph did not stop to answer, but ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the plateau. The rest of the party followed, Edna first, then the negroes, and after them Mrs. Cliff, who could not imagine why Edna should be in such a hurry. The sailors, having secured their boat, came straggling after the rest.
When Edna reached the entrance to the caves, she was met by her brother, so much out of breath that he could hardly speak.
“You needn’t go to your room to get your things,” he exclaimed. “I have gathered them all up, your bag, too, and I have tumbled them over the wall in the entrance back here. You must get over as quick as you can. That will be your room now, and I will tell the sailors, if they go poking around, that you are in there getting ready to leave, and then, of course, they can’t pass along the passage.”
“That is a fine idea,” said Edna, as she followed him. “You are getting very sharp-witted, Ralph.”
“Now, then,” said he, as he helped her over the wall, “take just as long as you can to get your things ready.”
“It can’t take me very long,” said Edna. “I have no clothes to change, and only a few things to put in my bag. I don’t believe you have got them all, anyway.”
“But you must make it take a long time,” said he. “You must not get through until every sailor has gone. You and I must be the last ones to leave the caves.”
“All right,” said Edna, as she disappeared behind the wall.
When Mrs. Cliff arrived, she was met by Ralph, who explained the state of affairs, and although that lady was a good deal annoyed at the scattered condition in which she found her effects, she accepted the situation.
The mate and his men were much interested in the caves and the great stone face, and, as might have been expected, every one of them wanted to know where the narrow passage led. But as Ralph was on hand to inform them that it was the entrance to Mrs. Horn’s apartment, they could do no more than look along its dusky length, and perhaps wonder why Mrs. Horn should have selected a cave which must be dark, when there were others which were well lighted.
Mrs. Cliff was soon ready, and explained to the inquiring mate her notion that these caves were used for religious purposes, and that the stone face was an ancient idol. In fact, the good lady believed this, but she did not state that she thought it likely that the sculptured countenance was a sort of a cashier idol, whose duty it was to protect treasure.
Edna, behind the stone barrier, had put her things in her bag, though she was not sure she had found all of them in the gloom, and she waited a long time, so it seemed to her, for Ralph’s summons to come forth. But although the boy came to the wall several times, ostensibly to ask if she were not ready, yet he really told her to stay where she was, for the sailors were not yet gone. But at last he came with the welcome news that every one had departed, and they soon came out into the daylight.
“If anything is lost, charge it to me,” said Ralph to Mrs. Cliff and his sister, as they hurried away. “I can tell you, if I had not thought of that way of keeping those sailors out of the passage, they would have swarmed over that lake bed, each one of them with a box of matches in his pocket; and if they had found that mound, I wouldn’t give two cents for the gold they would have left in it. It wouldn’t have been of any use to tell them it was the captain’s property. They would have been there, and he wasn’t, and I expect the mate would have been as bad as any of them.”
“You are a good fellow, Ralph,” said Mrs. Cliff, “and I hope you will grow up to be an administrator, or something of the kind. I don’t suppose there was ever another boy in the world who had so much wealth in charge.”
“You can’t imagine,” exclaimed Ralph, “how I hate to go away and leave it! There is no knowing when the captain will get here, nor who will drop in on the place before he does. I tell you, Edna, I believe it would be a good plan for me to stay here with those two black fellows, and wait for the captain. You two could go on the ship, and write to him. I am sure he would be glad to know I am keeping guard here, and I don’t know any better fun than to be on hand when he unearths the treasure. There’s no knowing what is at the bottom of that mound.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Edna. “You can put that idea out of your head instantly. I would not think of going away and leaving you here. If the captain had wanted you to stay, he would have said so.”
“If the captain wanted!” sarcastically exclaimed Ralph. “I am tired of hearing what the captain wants. I hope the time will soon come when those yellow bars of gold will be divided up, and then I can do what I like without considering what he likes.”
Mrs. Cliff could not help a sigh. “Dear me!” said she, “I do most earnestly hope that time may come. But we are leaving it all behind us, and whether we will ever hear of it again nobody knows.”
One hour after this Edna and Mrs. Cliff were standing on the deck of the Mary Bartlett, watching the plateau of the great stone face as it slowly sank into the horizon.
“Edna,” said the elder lady, “I have liked you ever since I have known you, and I expect to like you as long as I live, but I must say that, for an intelligent person, you have the most colorless character I have ever seen. Whatever comes to pass, you receive it as quietly and calmly as if it were just what you expected and what you happened to want, and yet, as long as I have known you, you have not had anything you wanted.”
“You are mistaken there,” said Edna. “I have got something I want.”
“And what may that be?” asked the other.
“Captain Horn,” said Edna.
Mrs. Cliff laughed a little scornfully. “If you are ever going to get any color out of your possession of him,” she said, “he’s got to very much change the style of his letter-writing. He has given you his name and some of his money, and may give you more, but I must say I am very much disappointed in Captain Horn.”
Edna turned suddenly upon her companion. “Color!” she exclaimed, but she did not finish her remark, for Ralph came running aft.
“A queer thing has happened,” said he: “a sailor is missing, and he is one of the men who went on shore for us. They don’t know what’s become of him, for the mate is sure he brought all his men back with him, and so am I, for I counted them to see that there were no stragglers left, and all the people who were in that boat came on board. They think he may have fallen overboard after the ship sailed, but nobody heard a splash.”
“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, “and he was one of those who came to save us!”
At this moment a wet and bedraggled sailor, almost exhausted with a swim of nearly a mile, staggered upon the beach, and fell down upon the sand near the spot from which the Mary Bartlett’s boat had recently been pushed off. When, an hour before, he had slipped down the side of the ship, he had swum under water as long as his breath held out, and had dived again as soon as he had filled his lungs. Then he had floated on his back, paddling along with little but his face above the surface of the waves, until he had thought it safe to turn over and strike out for land. It had been a long pull, and the surf had treated him badly, but he was safe on shore at last, and in a few minutes he was sound asleep, stretched upon the sand.
Toward the end of the afternoon he awoke and rose to his feet. The warm sand, the desiccating air, and the sun had dried his clothes, and his nap had refreshed him. He was a sharp-faced, quick-eyed man, a Scotchman, and the first thing he did was t