“Some time ago, a steam trawler, while fishing in 130 fathoms of water, hauled up a piece of wreckage in its net. Upon examination it appeared to be the bulwark of an ancient Spanish galleon, with parts of the rigging attached. On the sides, plainly distinguishable, were designs in hand-sewn leather. Some of those big, lumbering ships were decorated quite extensively, you know, and this one was distinguished by its hand-sewn leather covering. It was evident that somewhere in the neighborhood a Spanish galleon had gone to the bottom, and it is always a safe conclusion that where there is galleon there is also a treasure. Those ships carried gold, silver and jewels from Old Mexico and Peru to Spain, and this particular ship may have been going home after a trip up the coast of California. That was the type of ship that the brave English seamen of Queen Elizabeth’s time whipped so soundly at the time of the Spanish Armada, and there were hundreds of them in service along the shores of the Americas and the Islands.
“The spot was marked in the hope that treasure would be discovered, on the presumption that it was a treasure ship, and shortly afterward active operations were started by a California diving company. But although they searched the shore under water in minute detail they found nothing. The mystery is not that they didn’t find any treasure, but that they didn’t find any more of the ship. You might think that perhaps that particular piece had been washed there from some point further out, and it is possible, but the piece, when netted, had been buried in the mud, and it looks as though it had been there for centuries, though ships haven’t a habit of sinking in sections, one part at one place and another part in a different place. However, they didn’t find a thing, and at last the whole undertaking was given up.”
“That is too bad,” said Jim, who was deeply absorbed in the story. “So it was a false hope from the first.”
“How long ago was that?” asked Don.
“That was a little over a year ago,” answered the professor. “And that leads me to the second part of my story. Ned had given up all interest in it even before the diving and salvage company had, and he thought no more about it. The piece of wreckage is a treasure in itself and was sent up to San Francisco, where it was subsequently placed in a museum. Realizing that I would be interested in it all he first wrote to me at the time it happened, and I read it and wrote for news, but as the thing died down I forgot it, too. I have planned to run out to San Francisco sometime and see the part myself, and I intend doing so soon.
“Ned told me at the time that there had been some slight changes in the coast line during the last few centuries. A number of creeks that formerly ran into the ocean have closed up and disappeared, some of them filled with shifting sand and soil. I don’t know if you were ever aware of the fact or not, but although Lower California has a dry climate and is mostly barren, there are spots where it is tropical and jungle plants and trees grow there in luxurious profusion. Although they have almost no rain, they do have violent storms, and at such times are treated to regular cloudbursts. At those periods the elements raise the old dickens and it was during these spells that some creeks and small rivers closed up.
“Maybe you wonder why I’m particular to tell you all this. I do so because I believe it has a direct bearing on the most amazing part of Ned’s letter. I believe it explains the disappearance of the Phantom Galleon!”
“The Phantom Galleon!” cried Don, while Jim stirred in eager interest. “What is that, Professor Scott?”
CHAPTER II
THE STORY OF THE PHANTOM GALLEON
“Well,” answered the professor, slowly. “Up until a very short time Ned, and others, thought that it was only a legend. He hadn’t been in the country very long before he heard it, and he put it down as one of those semi-historic tales that consist of half truth and half fancy. The tale had been handed down for centuries and always by word of mouth, and this is the story: