The run to Martinique was wholly uneventful, though it took us four days to reach port, owing to the light winds. Throughout the voyage Mr. Millward and I took turns at the helm, steering by the compass. Not a single sail was sighted, and we drew into the old pier just four hours before the steamer bound for New York made the port and tied up to the same pier.
Mr. Millward went at once to the captain of the newly arrived vessel and related enough of our story to apprise him of the nature of our cargo, and the desire we had to get to New York with it as soon as possible. The captain, a New Bedford man, came back with Mr. Millward to the boat, and we then arranged for our passage and the safe carriage of our treasure. The latter was stowed in canvas bags and sealed and weighed under our supervision, and carried on board the steamer. Then my heart grew lighter as the care of the treasure was lifted from my mind. We secured ample insurance from the local underwriter, made arrangements that the sloop should be sold and the proceeds sent to some of Mr. Millward’s old parishioners in Jamaica, and then, just as the sun was setting, embarked for New York and home.
My story is done, for all our trials and labors and troubles were then over. Now we may ring the curtain down. But before it descends I may invite you to look at the last tableau.
It is a summer’s day. The dust lies thick on the shady road. The katydid rasps its musical wing in the tall elms which shade an old farmhouse. On the porch, enjoying the faint breath of the evening air that comes gently over the fields of yellow grain, and through the orchard where the home-returning cows have stopped a moment, is a group consisting of a white-haired old man, who smokes his pipe in quiet comfort, a young man, and a beautiful young woman, at whose feet lies a noble Gordon setter. It is the party whose story you have followed. This farmhouse and these broad acres have been redeemed with long sunken Spanish gold. It is a loving and a happy party, whose hearts beat kindly for each other and for all.
The old man speaks:—
“My children, to-day is the anniversary of our departure from Key Seven. Let us thank God for all the good gifts that have come to us from The Spanish Galleon.”
THE END.
THE BRIDGE OF THE GODS.