“Yase, yase,” replied the other affirmatively; “oh, yase!”
“How come it hyar?”
“It vas burit by ze boocaneer in ze olt time—one, doo, dree huntert year ago,” explained Jan. “Cap’en Shackzon vas zee it writ in von book dat he vas zee at Guayaquil; and den, ven he vas zail here, he vas come to de zame blace dat ze boocaneer spoke of in ze book and hat burit ze golt. It vas ze ploonder of ze churches of ze coast, dat ze boocaneers hat collect in von big heep and zegreet in ze cave till zey coot take hims avay mit dem, and dere it vas remain till Cap’en Shackzon vound it.”
“He found it, hey?”
“Yase, he vind it von day, as I zays. His voot vas sdoomble in ze hole, and dat give vays; and den, he doombles into ze cave, and zee all ze dreasure of golt and silber and ozer tings.”
“An’ did ye see it, too, mister?” inquired Captain Snaggs anxiously. “Pyaps thet air coon wer only bamboozlin’ ye, an’ made up the yarn!”
“No, he vas not make it oop,” replied Jan. “I vas zee dat Madonna of golt dere and ozer tings dat he vas bring back vrom ze cave ven we vas coom here in ze schgooners, and anchor’t in ze bay dere as ze sheep vas now lay. But, Cap’en Shackzon vas von sdrange mans!”
“Thunder!” ejaculated the skipper, on the other pausing at this point, as if waiting for the question to be put. “How wer he streenge, mister, hey?”
“He vas like to keep zings to himselfs,” said Jan Steenbock meaningly. “He vas not let me go to ze cave at all, and ze schgooner vas anchor’t here in ze bay more dan a veek!”
“I s’pose he didn’t want the crew—them rascally Spaniards ye spoke on—smellin’ a rat an’ spilin’ his game, I reckon,” suggested the skipper; “but how did he manage, hey?”