But Dutch did not hear him, for he was once more eagerly trying to trace out in the weeds the shape of the old galleon.
Yes, there it was, undoubtedly; and, to make assurance doubly sure, another shark slowly glided out, about thirty feet to the left of where Dutch saw the first, setting the weeds in motion, and displaying, black and grey with encrustations, three more of the nearly buried ribs of an old ship.
With this help to locality, he could now make out plainly where the galleon lay, and see that she must have been nearly a hundred feet long, and that her stem had struck on the mass of rocks described as those off which ’Pollo had dived; while her stern lay off behind the boat in the dense forest of sea growth. And as Dutch looked on he became more and more aware of the fact that there were watchers over the treasure—if treasure there was—in the shape of sharks. He had already seen two, and now, dimly visible in their lairs, lay no less than five more, of which he could just make out a fin of one, the snout of another, the tail of another, and so on, one gliding slowly out into the sunshine, turning right over so as to show its white belly and great teeth-armed jaws, before dashing after a shoal of bright-coloured fish which had tempted him from his lair.
So powerful were the strokes of the monster’s tail that the water was all of a quiver, and the long strands of the seaweed waved and undulated to and fro, displaying here and there more blackened stumps, and showing how possible it was for anyone to sail a boat over the wreck a hundred times without catching a glimpse or dreaming of its existence.
“Well,” said Mr Parkley, “when you’re tired of shark-gazing, we may as well go on board.”
There was only one man of the crew looking over the side now, and that was the mulatto, who, with half-closed eyes, lazily watched their actions; the others, finding the business uninteresting, having adjourned to the shade.
“I’m ready to go on board,” said Dutch, quietly. “When shall we begin work?”
“Oh, at once. Let’s ask Studwick to weigh anchor, and try one of the other places. Ah, my lad, I’m afraid I let my anger get the better of my judgment. We shall do nothing without the cursed Cuban.”
“Think not?” said Dutch, with a smile.
“I am sure of it,” said Mr Parkley. “How can we hunt over the whole of this sea? It would be madness.”