This was serious news indeed; for, as I was then situated, I could ill afford to have the ship lying idle a single day, to say nothing of such a length of time as five or six months. Should I eventually succeed in recovering the treasure, of course even a year or more of enforced idleness would matter nothing; but it was still quite an open question with me whether I should ever see that treasure or not. I had not a shadow of doubt as to the bona fides of the cryptogram. I felt certain that when that document was penned, the treasure was reposing peacefully in the hiding-place described therein; but how was I to know that it lay there still? The writer of the document may not have been the only person acquainted with the secret of the hiding-place; and, in such a case, the probabilities were in favour of the treasure having been unearthed years before either I or my father opened our eyes upon this world. Or it might even have been stumbled upon accidentally. In short, the prospect of its falling into my hands appeared so uncertain, even now that I had gained the clue to its place of concealment, that I felt it would be impossible for me to regard myself or to act otherwise than as a poor man until I should actually find the treasure in my possession. And then, too, I was naturally anxious and eager to settle the question as to whether the treasure still remained hidden or not. If it did, well and good; if not—if it was not to be found on the spot indicated in the cryptogram, it certainly would not be found at all; and all that would then remain for me to do would be to dismiss the matter from my mind, as I would a feverish dream, and devote myself, heart and soul, to my profession.
The problem which now presented itself to my mind was, how to induce my crew to remain with me? For inducement it would certainly have to be; I could scarcely have them locked up, or put them in irons during our stay in Sydney in order to insure myself against their desertion! I thought the matter over very carefully, both on that first evening of our arrival in Sydney Harbour, and during the subsequent day, after a visit to my consignees had assured me that the pilot’s story in nowise exaggerated the astounding state of things then prevailing in the port, and at length came to the conclusion that I could do nothing. If they chose to remain, well and good; if they elected to go, I had no power to prevent them.
To my astonishment and gratification, however, they took their leave time after time, and always punctually turned up on board again when it had expired; until, when we had been in the harbour nearly a month, and our cargo was almost out, I began to hope that the fellows really meant to stay by me. Then, getting leave to spend Sunday ashore, as usual, every mother’s son of them—save the mate and Joe Martin—left me. I, of course, at once communicated with the police authorities, acquainting them with the fact of the desertion; and I also offered a substantial reward for the recovery of the men. But it was of no avail; the rascals had gone clean off; and there I found myself, in the same plight as many another shipmaster, locked up in Sydney Harbour for an indefinite period, with no hope whatever of getting away so long as the rush to the gold-fields lasted.
Chapter Thirteen.
The New Crew.
I had been in this unpleasant plight about three weeks, during which the remainder of the cargo had been discharged, the ship ballasted down to her very best sailing trim, and everything made ready for my trip to the Pacific, when one day, as I was wandering aimlessly about the streets, I encountered Sir Edgar and Lady Desmond, who—after a much longer sojourn up-country than they had intended—had returned to Sydney, and were beginning to think seriously of finding their way back to England. They were palpably and unfeignedly delighted to see me again, although they of course sympathised with me in my misfortune, and insisted upon my dining with them that evening, and afterwards accompanying them to the theatre. I suppose they saw that I needed a little cheering up; and I got it, too; for they were more than kind—their genial frankness of behaviour to me was more that of a brother and sister than of mere acquaintances, or even of the usual run of friends; and when I left them next morning after breakfast—for they insisted on my acceptance of their hospitality for the night—I felt more cheerful than I had done since the desertion of my crew. As I shook hands with Sir Edgar on the hotel steps, he said—
“Now, Saint Leger, we are in no hurry to start for a month or two, you know; and we are all quite as eager as ever we were to see the end of this adventure of yours; so if you should succeed in scraping together a crew within, say, the next two months, you may reckon upon us as passengers again—that is, if you would care to have us.”
“You are more than kind, Sir Edgar,” said I, “and I should be delighted to have you; but you appear to have forgotten that my plans include another visit to China before I point the barque’s nose for home, even should I succeed in securing the treasure.”