For Treasure Bound | Page 9

cargo of the new season's teas, and from the moment that
the good ship disappeared seaward she had never been heard of; not the
faintest trace of a clue to the mystery of her fate having, so far, been
discovered.
Bob Trunnion was a middle-aged man, of medium stature, great

personal strength, and no very marked pretensions to beauty; but he
was as thorough an old sea-dog as ever looked upon salt water. His
visage was burnt to a deep brick-red by years of exposure to all sorts of
weather; and his hair and beard, which had once been brown, were now
changed to the hue of old oakum by the same process, except where,
here and there, a slight sprinkling of grey discovered itself. He had
been a sailor almost all his life, having "crept in through the
hawse-pipe" when he was only twelve years old; since when, by close
application and perseverance, he had gradually worked his way aft to
the quarter-deck. He joined my father's ship as second mate, on the
same voyage as I did, and on the following voyage took the
chief-mate's berth, in place of a man whom my father was compelled to
discharge for confirmed drunkenness.
The last time that my poor father passed down Channel, outward-bound,
Bob had the misfortune (as we thought it then), to fall off the poop and
break his arm. It was what the surgeons call a compound fracture, and
certainly looked to be a very ugly one; so, as the ship happened at the
time to be off Saint Alban's Head, my father ran into Weymouth roads,
and sent Bob ashore to our house to be cured, and to bear me company;
shipping in his stead the second mate, and picking up a new second
mate somewhere about the town.
Thus it happened that Bob and I, old shipmates as we were, happened
to be both away from our ship when her mysterious fate overtook her.
As soon as we were both recovered, we sought and obtained berths,
always in the same ship, for short voyages; returning home about once
in every six weeks or two months, with the hope of hearing either that
my father had returned, or that some news had arrived of him. For the
last twelve months we had abandoned the former hope, but the latter
would probably be many years before it finally took its flight.
Ada Collingwood, my only sister, was just seventeen.
This introduction and explanation are necessary to the understanding of
what is to follow; and now, having fairly weathered them both, we may
take up the thread of the story, and follow it out to the end without
further interruption.

I have already said that I took an early opportunity to give Bob a
detailed account of the Spaniard's revelation to me. This was on the
evening of the day on which we laid the poor fellow in his grave; and I
told my story while we and my sister were seated comfortably round
the fire after tea, with the curtains drawn close, and everything made
snug for the night.
Bob listened with the utmost attention to my story (as did also my
sister), occasionally requesting me to "say that ag'in," as some point in
the narrative was reached which he wished to bear particularly in mind;
and when I had finished he sat for some time staring meditatively
between the bars of the grate.
At length, "Well, Harry, my lad, what do you intend to do?" said he.
"That," replied I, "is just the point upon which I want your advice. If
this story be true--"
"No fear about that," said Bob. "It's true enough. The thing's as plain
and circumstantial as the ship's course when it's pricked off upon the
chart. There ain't a kink in the yarn from end to end; it's all coiled down
as neat and snug as a new hawser in the ropemaker's yard; and besides,
dyin' men don't spin yarns with no truth in 'em, just for divarsion's sake,
like."
"Well," said I, "I have not the means of purchasing a ship of my own;
and if I had, do you think it would be safe to trust so much treasure
with a crew, picked up though ever so carefully?"
"Ah! now you 'pawls me," replied Bob, rubbing the back of his head
reflectively. "I've sailed with crews as you might ha' trusted with untold
gold, at least, I've thowt so at the time I was with 'em; but mayhap, if
temptation was throwed in their way, they mightn't be able to stand out
agin it; there's no gettin' to the bottom o' the heart o' man. As to the ship,
that's easy enough. If you ain't got the cash to buy, you