Once more he stooped down. In a sort of fury he grasped a bar in each hand and raised it up to the light.
Down under the sea the action of water had not destroyed the color of those bars which he held up in the dim light that came through the waters. The dull yellow of those rough ingots seemed to gleam with dazzling brightness before his bewildered eyes, and filled his whole soul with a torrent of rapture and of triumph.
His emotions overcame him. The bars of gold fell down from his trembling hands. He sank back and leaned against the wall.
But what was it that lay under his feet? What were all these bars? Were they all gold? Was this indeed all here—the plunder of the Spanish treasure-ships—the wealth which might purchase a kingdom—the treasure equal to an empire’s revenue—the gold and jewels in countless store?
A few moments of respite were needed in order to overcome the tremendous conflict of feeling which raged within his breast. Then once more he stooped down. His outstretched hand felt over all this space which thus was piled up with treasure.
It was about four feet square. The ingots lay in the centre. Around the sides were boxes. One of these he took out. It was made of thick oaken plank, and was about ten inches long and eight wide. The rusty nails gave but little resistance, and the iron bands which once bound them peeled off at a touch. He opened the box.
Inside was a casket.
He tore open the casket.
It was filled with jewels!
His work was ended. No more search, no more fear. He bound the casket tightly to the end of the signal-line, added to it a bar of gold, and clambered to the deck.