The Ship of Coral

by H. De Vere Stacpoole

The man of wisdom and resource lay on his side, huddled up as if asleep. He was fully dressed. Horrible though the place was and dreadful with death, not all the horror in the world could have prevented Gaspard from advancing towards the body of Sagesse. It drew him towards it against his will, as if by some mesmeric influence.

The right hand of the Captain lying across his chest had upon one of the fingers something that glittered in the sun like a star. It was a diamond, enormous and lovely with light, set in an old-fashioned ring. It would have graced the crown of an emperor; it would have held Gaspard fascinated had not another object held him breathless. From the muffler around the neck of Sagesse protruded the head of a snake. Two bright red burning eyes flashed in the sun, the thing seemed furious at being disturbed; a moment more and one would have expected it to wriggle from its concealment and strike, but Gaspard feared it less even than he had feared the fer de lance of the Place du Fort. He knelt down beside Sagesse, heedless of the crabs now surrounding him, removed the muffler from his neck and then removed the snake. It was of solid gold, flexible, one of those antique bracelets made to wind round and cling to a woman’s arm. The flat portion of the head was formed by a quadrille of flat sapphires, the eyes were pigeon-blood rubies. Leaving the extraordinary beauty of the workmanship aside, the stones alone were worth a little fortune.

Then Gaspard knew that the captain had indeed found the treasure of Simon Serpente, and, seeing shipwreck before him, had sorted out the most valuable things in a wild attempt to save them with his own wretched life. With the sweat breaking out on his forehead at the possibilities before him, he flung the serpent of gold on the ground before searching the body. It fell on the swarming crabs. He picked it up and flung it round his own neck. Then he noticed that his hand was bleeding; it had been nipped by one of the vermin which were now crawling up on the body of Sagesse, as the Lilliputians swarmed on Gulliver. Seized with fury, he sprang to his feet and kicked the brutes hither and thither, stamped on them, crushed them. He might as well have stamped on water advancing from an overflowing dam; the clicking and rustling hordes swarmed on.

He flung himself on his knees again beside the body, seized the hand with the ring, drew the jewel off and put it in his pocket. He scarcely noticed that a crab was clinging to the hand as he flung it aside. The left coat pocket of Sagesse was bulging. He thrust his hand in and drew out a knotted handkerchief; it chinked like a bag of marbles, and from a corner a piece of broken gold fell out. It was part of a brooch. He did not stay to investigate further; the handkerchief held treasure. He thrust it into his pocket and went on. There was a pocket-book in the breast pocket of the coat, in the other pockets nothing of value. He opened the waistcoat; he tore open the shirt; nothing more. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he was about to rise to his feet when he remembered that he had not examined the left hand for rings.

He pushed the body over.

The left hand of Sagesse was closed tight on something. The rigor mortis was just passing, and Gaspard had no difficulty in unlocking the fingers from the treasure they contained. It was a pearl, a lovely milk-white pearl, large almost as a pigeon’s egg. Why he had clung to this thing especially, whether from superstition or not, who can say?

Or was it a pearl not belonging to Serpente’s treasure at all? A pearl of the lagoon that by some extraordinary chance the drowning man had seized upon unknowingly in his struggles? One might almost have imagined this to be the case, for this thing was virginal as the sea and had evidently never been set or worn by mortal.

Who can say? But so the captain of La Belle Arlésienne had gone to his Maker, clasping this emblem of purity in his hand, almost a parable on the mighty truth that each one of us, however evil, has yet, in his soul, somewhere, a priceless pearl.

Thoughts that never occurred to Gaspard.

He had risen to his feet. In his pockets lay the plunder he had taken from Sagesse, in his hand the pearl, around his feet the crabs swarming to their prey.