Part 51 (1/2)

A few more hours' work would be enough to lift the rest of the treasure.

Already we had on board a fortune in doubloons and bars of gold, but there was still one more chest to be unearthed. We felt that we were near the end of our adventure and our spirits were high.

Blythe got out his violin and Evie sang some of her plantation songs, her soft voice falling easily into the indolent negro dialect.

My stunt was Irish stories. We dragooned the staid Morgan into playing the piano while we ragged.

It must have been close to midnight before we spoke of breaking up.

Evelyn and I took a turn on the deck. Our excuse was to get a breath of fresh air, but the truth is that we were always drifting together.

Even in the company of others our eyes had a way of sending wireless messages of which we two only understood the code.

We leaned against the rail and looked across the bay. It was a night of ragged clouds behind which the moon was screened.

”Isn't that a boat over there?” Evie asked, pointing in the direction of the river mouth.

The moon had peeped out and was flinging a slant of light over the water. I looked for a long minute.

”Yes. I believe it's Bothwell's schooner. He has slipped out unnoticed.

The fellow must mean mischief.”

”Oh, I hope not,” said Evie, and she gave a little s.h.i.+ver.

A sound came faintly over the water to us from the sh.o.r.e.

”Did you hear that?” Evelyn turned to me, her face white in the s.h.i.+ning moonbeam.

A second pistol shot followed the first.

”Trouble at the cache!”

I turned toward the pavilion and met Blythe. Already he was flinging a crisp order to the watch.

”Lower a boat, Neidlinger. Smith will help you. That you, Higgins? Rouse all hands from sleep. We've work afoot.”

Again came a faint echo across the still waters, followed by two sharper explosions. Some one had brought a rifle into action.

Blythe turned to me. ”It's my place to stand by the s.h.i.+p, Jack. This may be a ruse to draw us off. I can spare you one man to go ash.o.r.e and see what the trouble is. Take your pick.”

I chose Smith.

”Keep a sharp lookout, Jack. He's wily as the devil, Bothwell is. Better not land at the usual place. He may have an ambush planted.”

”All right, Sam.”

The Englishman turned to give Stubbs orders for arming the crew.

In the darkness a groping little hand found mine.

”Must you go, Jack? I--wish you would stay here.”