The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Well, that’s what we’ll have to find out first. But when can we go?”

      “Tomorrow morning,” said Pat, “airly.”

      “But we’re going to Aspotogon,” said Bart.

      “Sure an we may slip off an let the others go by thimselves. We’ll go to Oak Island at four in the morrnin, an’ll be back by nine or tin—about the time when they’re startin. If they wait for us, all right; we may go with them there or not, just as it shuits us; that depinds on the prospects at Oak Island. But if they don’t wait for us it won’t make any difference in the wurruld, so it won’t.”

      After some further conversation, the two boys resolved to carry out this proposal. They thought they could easily leave the hotel on the following morning, at the earliest light, and then go off to explore Oak Island by themselves. The others would not probably start for Aspotogon before nine or ten. If they found Oak Island affording no prospect of success in their plan, they could easily return to Chester, in time to start for Aspotogon with the others; while if, on the other hand, they did see any chance to make Pat’s tunnel, they could remain there and go to work. The others would probably think they had gone fishing, and set off without them.

      The proposal of Pat was a wild and impracticable one, but to Bart it seemed easy enough. The thing that had influenced him most was the idea of a “tunnel,” of which Pat spoke so knowingly. Without having any very distinct conception of the difficulties in the way of a “tunnel,” he allowed himself to be fascinated by the very mention of it, and so flung himself headlong into the scheme.

      Their determination to keep this plan a secret from the others, did not, of course, arise out of any desire to forestall them, or to seize for themselves the treasure which they supposed to be on the island. It was rather the design of achieving some exploit which should astonish their friends. It was glory, not covetousness, that animated them.

      In this frame of mind, then, and with this purpose, they returned to the inn. Nothing was said about Oak Island. The landlord himself did not refer to it. Perhaps he had talked enough about it for one day, and was tired of it; or perhaps he was merely husbanding his resources, so as to tell it with full effect on the following day to those of the party who had not yet heard it; for when a man has a good story, and meets with a perfectly fresh crowd of hearers, he naturally feels unwilling to throw the story away, and prefers to tell it under the best possible circumstances. That evening they talked chiefly about the expedition to Aspotogon. Bruce, Arthur, Tom, and Phil did the talking. Bart and Pat were comparatively silent. The first four said nothing, however, about the buccaneers, for they, like the landlord, were reserving this subject for the following day. They also had all conceived the idea that Aspotogon was the very place where the treasure of the buccaneers might be buried; and this, of course, threw additional attractions around the proposed trip. The name seemed suitable to such a deed. It was sonorous and impressive; and to them it seemed to suggest all sorts of possible crimes and tragedies. Deep Cove, also, was a name not without its significance; and they fancied in this place they might find the hiding-place of the old pirates of which the governor of Sable Island had spoken.

      Before retiring, they decided that they would not start till nine o’clock, which hour would be most convenient for all, especially the landlord, who protested against getting out of bed at any unusually early hour. With this understanding they all retired.

      But Bart and Pat were awake and up before the dawn. Dressing themselves hastily, they quitted the house as noiselessly as possible, and went off to the promenade or square, at the end of the town. Here a number of boats were drawn up on the beach. At that early hour it was impossible to find any owner; nor did Bart or Pat feel inclined to stand on any ceremony. They selected the best of them, and thought that on their return they might apologize to the owner, whoever, he might turn out to be, and pay him for the use of the boat.

      The question now was, how to find Oak Island. That the island was somewhere in the bay on this side of Chester they knew from what the landlord had told them, but which particular one it might be among the hundreds of the bay they could not imagine. The knowledge that it was covered with oaks, was the only guide they had; and with this they set forth, hoping to find the object of their search. There was a sail in the boat, and a pair of oars, and a gentle breeze was blowing; so they hoisted the sail, and slipped at a very good pace over the water. On their way they passed several islands. One of these had farm-houses on it; another had no houses at all; but still they saw nothing of those oak trees, and frames, and pumps, and other engines which marked Oak Island.

      They kept on, however, sailing past some islands, and around others, until more than an hour had passed, and they both concluded that it would be far better to go ashore somewhere and ask directions. They saw a house not far away on the main land, and at once sailed in this direction. The wind still continued very moderate, and though neither Bart nor Pat knew much about navigating a boat, they managed to get along in this breeze without any trouble whatever.

      On landing, Pat remained in the boat, while Bart went to the house just mentioned. On his way he crossed the high road which here runs along the shore, winding beautifully around every curve and inlet as it encircles the bay. Bart had some difficulty in rousing the people, for it was yet very early in the morning, and they were all sound asleep. At last, however, he heard sounds of movement inside, and then a man appeared, half dressed, and rubbing his eyes.

      “Good morning,” said Bart, pleasantly.

      “Morn’n,” said the man, with a yawn.

      “Can you tell me where I can find Oak Island?”

      “Oak Island?” repeated the man, stretching himself with another yawn and looking at Bart,—”Oak Island?”

      “Yes,” said Bart; “Oak Island.”

      “Why, you ain’t a tryin to walk there, surely!” said the man, in some surprise.

      “O, no,” said Bart; “that’s my boat just down there.”

      “O,” said the man. “Wal, Oak Island’s jest over there;” and he pointed up the bay farther, in a direction which Bart had not taken at all. “You go straight up about two miles from here, an you’ll hit it. You can’t mistake it. It’s a little island with some oak trees and some stagins.”

      “There’s no one there now, I suppose,” said Bart.

      “No,” said the man, “not jest now. They’ve knocked off,—the last batch did,—and there ain’t likely to be no more till the next lot of fools turns up that’s got more money than brains.”

      From which remark Bart gathered that the man was an unbeliever.

      “You don’t seem to believe in Kidd’s treasure,” said he.

      “Wal,” said the man, “I ain’t goin to say that; but I’ll tell you what I don’t believe in. I don’t believe in people a throwin of their money away into the airth an into the sea when they might be doin better with it. Yes, a throwin of it away, tryin to get at a money-box that’s out of the power of man to touch. Yes, sir; flesh and blood won’t never lay hands on Kidd’s treasure—leastways not unless there’s a sacrifice made.”

      “A sacrifice!” repeated Bart, in amazement.

      “Yes,” said the man. “It’s an old sayin hereabouts, as to the fact as that that thar treasure bein buried there with the sacrifice of human life, is laid under a cuss, and the cuss can’t ever be lifted, nor the money-box either, till some of the diggers kills a man. СКАЧАТЬ