The party arrived under the tree—the shovels soon removed the light sand, and in a few minutes, the treasure was exposed to view. Bag after bag was handed up, and the loose dollars collected into heaps. Two of the soldiers had been sent to the vessels for sacks to put the loose dollars in, and the men had desisted from their labour; they laid aside their spades, looks were exchanged, and all were ready.
The commandant turned round to call to and hasten the movements of the men who had been sent for the sacks, when three or four knives simultaneously pierced him through the back; he fell, and was expostulating, when they were again buried in his bosom, and he lay a corpse. Philip and Krantz remained silent spectators—the knives were drawn out, wiped, and replaced in their sheaths.
“He has met his reward,” said Krantz.
“Yes,” exclaimed the Portuguese soldiers—“justice, nothing but justice.”
“Signors, you shall have your share,” observed Pedro; “shall they not, my men?”
“Yes! yes!”
“Not one dollar, my good friends,” replied Philip; “take all the money, and may you be happy; all we ask, is your assistance to proceed on our way to where we are about to go. And now, before you divide your money, oblige me by burying the body of that unfortunate man.”
The soldiers obeyed. Resuming their shovels, they soon scooped out a shallow grave: the commandant’s body was thrown in, and covered up from sight.