This vessel never could have been noted for speed, I thought, as the hull appeared to be a regular tub, with high bows and stern, a great breadth of beam, and a low mid-deck or waist where lay the green remains of what had once been four brass carronades. When sailing close-hauled she probably went to leeward faster than she drew ahead. Doubtless such was the ancient fashion of ships, and it accounts for the fact that the old voyagers were sometime wind-bound, until the green moss and weeds grew plentiful on their hulls, and the water and provisions gave out, and the dreadful scurvy came to sweep away half the crew. I could picture this lumping old craft as she might have looked when the old admiral commanded her beneath the broad flag of Spain,—her crowded decks, her tall masts, the gorgeous array of bright-colored garments worn by the dusky grandees who were on board, the images of the saints, the crucifix at the wheel, the shaven priest, and all the pomp and ceremony that attended her clumsy progress to strange ports.
I knew the history of her last voyage well. I knew how she had twice rounded Cape Horn and stanchly buffeted the storms of two oceans; of the troops she had landed, the treasure she had taken up, and the final scene when with sails set and colors flying she sank beneath the waves. Long ago every soul who then lived had gone to the other world; the admiral, his officers and his crew, the king and queen and all their court were now returned to dust. Yet here lay the fabric of teak and oak, still strong and stanch and enduring, and the store of gold that I hoped to get. Were the shades of these departed ones aware that a heretic was planning and contriving to get the long sunken treasure, so much of which had been once designed for the coffers of the holy mother Church?
We made a careful survey of the basin, and selected the lesser bank of sand, that forming the breakwater at the narrow end of the chasm, as a suitable site for the pumping-apparatus. Mr. Millward pointed out to me the fact that the water stood higher in the basin than the then level of the sea,—a proof, he insisted, that the water did not percolate to any considerable extent through the firmly packed sand. This was a highly important fact to us. Had it been otherwise we never could have hoped to pump the basin dry, or below the sea level.
With a line we took some measurements which we expected to need, and then set out on our return to the house.
As a matter of convenience we decided to build the water-raising machine complete and set it up and test it at the creek near the house, where we could be near such domestic comforts as we possessed; after which we could load it on the boat and convey it to the chasm. And this work we set about at once. As I have already indicated what this machine was to be I need not here again detail minutely its construction. The wheel we made chiefly of stout bamboo, the water-troughs of hollowed logs; the bearings, in deference to Mr. Millward’s recollection of the uncouth screeching of the machine’s Indian predecessors, we supplied liberally with grease. In ten days the thing was complete and set up at the creek for trial,—troughs, platform, and all. I had arranged that the water might flow from the troughs into a ditch leading to our garden to irrigate the growing crops.
When all was ready I mounted the wheel, and like a horse in a treadmill (perhaps a better simile would be like a hod-carrier climbing an endless ladder) began to turn it. Up came the full gourds, splashing the water at quick intervals alternately into the two troughs, whence it flowed down to the ditch in tinkling rills, steadily and continuously, as long as I chose to keep up the ladder-climbing action. It was going to prove rather hard work, I fancied; but nevertheless it was a perfect success, as I was continually lifting more than half my own weight in water with as little exertion as could have been required to accomplish that result. Then Mr. Millward tried his footing on the machine; and finally we had to help up Alice to try it in turn. Altogether it was unanimously pronounced a grand success, and we only waited for a fair wind that we might take it down and embark it for the chasm. Unfortunately for our patience, the wind veered around into the northeast again, and was quite too heavy to allow us to make the voyage with safety, as the rollers came tumbling in over the bar at the mouth of the creek at such rate that there would be great danger of swamping the boat in any endeavor we might make to get outside.
I was so impatient at this delay that I had half a mind to take the machine apart and attempt to carry it piecemeal overland. But it was useless to repine over the inevitable. It was not probable that I should gain an hour of time by undertaking to lug the machine overland, and I should simply have a great labor for naught. There was therefore nothing to do but to possess our souls with patience and await the issue.
Aside from the wind, which blew half a gale, the weather was pleasant, and the sun shone warm and bright. As we had nothing better to do, it was agreed that we should make an overland excursion to the old plantation for the purpose of getting some fresh fruit. One morning early, after a good breakfast, we ferried over the creek and started with light hearts and in holiday spirits up the beach, the wind blowing stiffly and the breakers crashing in beside us. I assisted Alice Millward with my arm, for the breeze was strong enough to make walking against it difficult for a woman. With bowed heads we beat slowly along until we reached the hog path, and were glad to turn into it and get under shelter of the vegetation, which broke the wind and made progress comfortable. Neither of my companions had ever been over this road before, and I explained what might be expected from moment to moment as we advanced. When we came to the cleft in the rocks where the stream came through, Alice and her father were delighted with the romantic and picturesque beauty of the place; the bold, precipitous rocks, the stream, the overarching trees growing far above, the dense beds of fern, tall and feathery, were all duly admired.
When we emerged into the north valley, we found a great herd of pigs that scattered and ran wildly at our approach. I managed to lasso a little porker, just old enough to roast, which we proposed to have for dinner. The orange grove was as before plentifully laden with oranges in all stages of growth, many of them quite ripe, a delicious refreshment. We soon reached the house, and building a fire in the broad fireplace of the kitchen, spitted the porker in front of it, and leaving him to twirl slowly before the fire on a twisting cord, we wandered over the old garden and plantation, Alice and I often hand in hand. I felt sure that she was pleased at my undisguised attention to her comfort, and that it gave her pleasure to be with me; and this in turn gave me unspeakable delight.
We were among the bananas and plantains seeking some of the latter to bake as an accompaniment for our dinner of roast pig, when I heard what sounded like the distant report of a gun. The sound was so faint and distant that I could not be entirely sure of my impressions, until I had asked Alice,—