As soon as it could be done, a more careful inspection and calculation satisfied the buccaneer of the immense value of his prize. The lading of the galleon, consisting principally of silver bullion, was probably worth not far from a million Spanish dollars—pieces of eight! This divided among the one hundred and eighty survivors of the original crew meant affluence for even the meanest cabin boy. It was wealth such as they had not even dreamed of. It was a prize the value of which had scarcely ever been paralleled.
They were assembled forward of the quarter-deck when the announcement was made. When they understood the news the men became drunk with joy. It would seem as if they had been suddenly stricken mad. Some of them stared in paralyzed silence, others broke into frantic cheers and yells, some reeled and shuddered like drunken men. The one person who preserved his imperturbable calmness was Morgan himself. The gratitude of these men toward him was overwhelming. Even those who had good cause to hate him forgot for the time being their animosity—all except Hornigold, whose hatred was beyond all price. Under his leadership they had achieved such a triumph as had scarcely ever befallen them in the palmiest days of their career, and with little or no loss they had been put in possession of a prodigious treasure. They crowded about him presently with enthusiastic cheers of affection and extravagant vows of loving service. All, that is, except Hornigold, whose sense of injury, whose thirst for vengeance, was so deep that all the treasure of Potosi itself would not have abated one jot or one tittle of it.
The general joy, however, was not shared by the rescued buccaneers. Although they had but a few hours before despaired of life in the loathsome depths of the vile hold, and they had been properly grateful for the sudden and unexpected release which had given them their liberty and saved them from the gibbet, yet it was not in any human man, especially a buccaneer, to view with equanimity the distribution—or the proposed distribution—of so vast a treasure and feel that he could not share in it. The fresh air and the food and drink had already done much for those hardy ruffians. They were beginning to regain, if not all their strength, at least some of their courage and assurance. They congregated in little groups here and there among Morgan's original men and stared with lowering brows and flushed faces at the frantic revel in which they could not participate. Not even the cask of rum which Morgan ordered broached to celebrate the capture, and of which all hands partook with indiscriminate voracity, could bring joy to their hearts. After matters had quieted down somewhat—and during this time the galleon had been mainly left to navigate herself—Morgan deemed it a suitable occasion to announce his ultimate designs to the men.
"Gentlemen, shipmates, and bold hearts all," he cried, waving his hand for silence, "we have captured the richest prize probably that floats on the ocean. There are pieces of eight and silver bullion enough beneath the hatches, as I have told you, to make us rich for life, to say nothing of the gold, jewels, spices, and whatnot, besides——"
He was interrupted by another yell of appreciation.
"But, men," he continued, "I hardly know what to do with it."
"Give it to us," roared a voice, which was greeted with uproarious laughter, "we'll make away with it."
Morgan marked down with his eye the man who had spoken and went on.
"The ports of His Majesty, the King of England, will be closed to us so soon as our capture of the Mary Rose is noted. England is at peace with the world. There is not a French or Spanish port that would give us a haven. If we appeared anywhere in European waters with this galleon we would be taken and hanged. Now, what's to be done?"
"Run the ship ashore on the New England coast," cried the man who had spoken before. "Divide the treasure. Burn the ship and scatter. Let every man look to his own share and his own neck."