Well, naturally enough, Reginald chose what he considered the best two claims; then came Dickson’s choice; then Mr Hall’s, and after these the six white sailors, and they were willing to dig like heroes.
They divided the work of the day into two parts. One was spent at the gold mines, the other in fishing for pearls. They were remarkably successful with the latter, but for nine months at least the gold came but slowly in, and this was disheartening. Nevertheless, they continued to dig and dig, assisted by native labour. The savages often found nuggets among the débris that had been overlooked by the white men, and these they dutifully presented to the owners of the claims.
It must be admitted that the men were most energetic, for while their officers were always at the Queen’s palace by five o’clock, and ready for dinner, the men often worked by moonlight, or even by the glimmer of lanterns. They were slowly accumulating wealth.
Success crowned Reginald’s efforts at last, though. For, to his extreme wonderment and delight, he struck a splendid pocket.
It was deep down at the far end of the cave, and the mould was of a sandy nature, much of it apparently powdered quartz, broken, perhaps, by the awful pressure of the mountain above. But the very first nugget he pulled from here was as large as a pineapple, and many more followed, though none so large.
No wonder his heart palpitated with joy and excitement, or that his comrades crowded round to shake his hand and congratulate him. But that cave had already made Reginald a fairly wealthy man. His success, moreover, encouraged the others to dig all the harder, and not without excellent results. It seemed, indeed, that not only was this island a flowery land, but an isle of gold. And the further they dug into the hill the more gold did they find. The men were very happy.
“Oh, Bill,” said one to his pal one night at supper, “if ever we does get a ship home from this blessed isle, won’t my Polly be glad to see me just!”
“Ay, Jack, she will; but I ain’t in any particular hurry to go yet, you know.”
“Well, it’s two years come Monday since we sailed away from the beautiful Clyde. Heigho! I shouldn’t wonder if Polly has given me up for good and all, and married some counter-jumping land-lubber of a draper or grocer.”
“Never mind, Jack; there’s as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it yet. Pass the rum. This is Saturday night, and it was just real good of Captain Dickson to send us an extra drop of the rosy. Fill your glasses, gentlemen, for a toast and a song. That digging has made me a mighty deal too tired to think of dancing to the sweetest jig e’er a fiddler could scrape out.”