“Lord’s truth, capen, don’t do that!” he exclaimed, in an injured tone. “It’s skeary enough here listening to the things creeping about in the wood there. No, I ain’t heard nothing else.”
“Keep a sharp look-out,” said the captain, and the man uttered a growl.
Walking softly aft, they found the man on the watch to be Bob Lennie, who was seated on the bulwarks, making a sort of humming noise to himself, under the impression that he was singing. He, too, allowed himself to be so closely approached that they almost touched him before he spoke.
“No,” he said, slowly, “I ain’t seed nor heered anything; only the lights over yonder in the woods, and the black things crawling in and out of the water where that there patch o’ yaller sand is.”
“You must have been mistaken, Pugh,” said the captain. “All’s right; let’s go and turn in.”
Dutch followed him down the cabin stairs, and the deck was left to the watch.
For quite half an hour all was perfectly still, except when some strange forest cry arose, and then two figures stole softly out from under the bulwarks, and went forward, to find that Dick Rolls had joined his fellow-watcher for company’s sake.
That was sufficient. The next minute the falls were seized, and the little dingy which hung from the davits was softly lowered into the water; two men slid down the ropes, unhooked the boat as it rose with the swell, and, without attempting to use the sculls, let the current drift them slowly away into the bank of darkness that closed the vessel round.
Before dawn every man was on deck waiting for the rising of the sun, for there was not one who did not look forward with great excitement to the coming day, which might bring large wealth to some, and to all an increase of pay, besides which there was a certain fascination in the search. The mystery and uncertainty of the adventure had their charms, while to the more ignorant there was a thrill of excitement in the superstition with which their minds mingled the project. Those who had in their lives toiled hard to obtain the treasure must, they felt, return to the place in spirit where it was lost, and try to guard it from sacrilegious touch.
The subject had been well discussed in the forecastle, and there was hardly one who did not feel the childlike desire, mingled with dread, that is felt by the ignorant over some ghost story—the shrinking and the desire to know.