"We soon had more gold and jewels than we knew what to do with. Some of our men left us and went home with enough to make them rich for the rest of their lives. And we have buried enough on these islands to buy a city. Gold lost its charms with us, and crime became an excitement and an entertainment.
"We discovered this island while cruising from one ocean to the other, and found on it some sailors, whose vessel had been wrecked near where you landed. They had been seven years here, and it is to them we are indebted for these animals and fowls. They lived contented, for they had given up all hope of getting away, and are all dead now. We made this place a retreat, had a settlement here, after the wreck of the Storm in the cave, of forty men. They are all dead but me. I have been here forty years—nine of them passed alone; and now my time has almost come. I took the name of George Dunman because I had disgraced that of my parents, and because I am an outlaw, and I want to die here and be forgotten."
It was after midnight when the old man finished his story. His manner became nervous and restless, and it was evident there was something more he wanted to disclose, but hesitated to do.
The strangers accepted the old man's invitation, and took up their abode under his roof, finding plenty of food and kind treatment. But they soon became weary of so monotonous a life, and longing for some means of reaching their homes and civilization, would visit the coast nearly every day, in the hope of seeing some friendly sail and effecting their deliverance. This anxiety to get away on the part of his new friends so preyed on the old man's mind that his strength began to fail fast, and at the end of two months it became evident that his sands of life had but a few more days to run.
Two months passed, and the weather was becoming cold. The old man was up earlier than usual one morning; still he seemed more feeble. He tottered about the cabin, his frame shook and trembled, and his whole system seemed to be under some new excitement. He had formed a strong attachment for Tite, whom he now approached with his hands extended. "Like you," he said, grasping his hand firmly and looking up imploringly into his face, "I was young and handsome once. I am old and ugly now. Crime has written its ugly finger all over my face; has thrust its poison into this poor heart of mine. Never let it lay one ugly finger on your face. Make yours a life of joy, so that you may die happy. Oh, these poor old gray hairs of mine, this head that has sinned so much." And he raised his hard, bony hand to his head, and tossed the long white hair back over his shoulders.
"Come with me, come with me, young man," he resumed, grasping Tite by the arm nervously and tottering to the door. When they got outside he whispered in his ear: "You shall see where it is buried before I die. It has made my life wretched; it may make yours happy." He paused for a few seconds, and looking back, saw the two men standing watch at the door. "Come," said he, beckoning to them, "you may as well come, too."
The men joined them, and when they had reached a spot about twenty rods from the cabin, they came to a square pile of stones, in a dark wood on the side of a hill. The old man sat down, and resting his arms on the stones, continued: "Here, buried three feet below these stones, is gold and silver enough to make you all rich for life, and perhaps happy. Churches, convents, ships, and even life itself have contributed to it. All I now seek is peace in Heaven; and yet I cannot get that with this gold, for it is the price of crime and death. Take it, take it; and when my life of sorrow is ended, and these poor old bones shall move no more, divide it among yourselves; and if Heaven sends you a deliverance from this lonely island, so live that it may bring you blessings, not curses, as it has done me."
Three days after what I have described in the above paragraph took place, Tite and the two sailors returned from the coast and were alarmed to find the cabin deserted. They waited for a short time, and then searched the woods in the vicinity, but could find nothing of the old man. The compasses were there, and his nautical instruments were still hanging on the wall, and the fire was nearly burned out. It had been his custom to have supper ready punctually when they returned. There was now a strange and mysterious stillness about the place. Even the fowls and the animals seemed silent.
On proceeding to the spot where the treasure was buried, they found the lifeless body of the old pirate. Old Dunman was dead, and lay there, with two of his pet goats nestling at his side.