This set all hands busy, the men excavating the sand and hard lava from under the bilge of the vessel with an alacrity they had not displayed before; and, each man putting his heart to the job, the broad trench in which they were working was soon dug down considerably deeper than the level of the sea. To prevent the encroach of this latter all the stuff taken out was thrown up alongside, forming a sort of steep embankment on either hand, so that the Denver City looked by-and-by as if she had run her head into a railroad cutting, the coffer-dam fixed across the beach, right under her keel, by the mizzen-chains, where the water just came up to, blocking the entrance to our dock effectually. The ship herself aided us in this respect, by settling down more in the sand there as it became loosened, and we only had to take care now that the slight rise and fall of the tide should not cause too great a leakage into the trench between the keel below and the upper strakes of her timbers above, at the height to which the dam reached; and, after a while, although a little water did trickle through the wall of sand and lava forming the side of the excavation towards the sea, there was not a sufficient quantity of it to interfere with the labour of digging to any material extent, nor to arrest our efforts.
The men, indeed, wielded their picks as if anxious to make up for the half-hour or so that had been wasted since Tom Bullover found the golden Madonna.
Nor did they content themselves merely with digging.
A keen watch was kept, in case something else might turn up, and every piece of hard substance disinterred was carefully scrutinised; but, alas! no more golden images or nuggets of the precious metal gladdened our eyes! Nothing came in view but sand and lava, lava and sand, varied occasionally by the sight of some fragment of half-fossilised tortoise-shell, or the chalky bones of cuttlefish and similar débris of the deep, washed up by the sea, and buried a fathom deep and more amid the strata of the shore.
This was disappointing; still, the men comforted themselves with the reflection that they were really digging for something else beyond the mere chance of picking up stray finds, such as that of Tom, who was thought a right good fellow for declaring he didn’t consider the Madonna his own special property, but would sell the figure, and go shares with all, when they got the ship afloat again, and reached San Francisco. My friend the carpenter thus artfully ‘pointed his moral,’ in order to make us work the harder at the novel navvy work at which we were engaged—strange, at least, to us sailor-folk.
Of course, though, while toiling like this, digging and splashing about in the insidious water that percolated through the beach, and which gradually accumulated until it was now almost knee-deep in the bottom of the trench, we were by no means silent, for a lot of talk went on in reference to the buccaneers’ buried treasure that Jan Steenbock had spoken of. So, in spite of the second-mate’s warning as to the ‘curse’ which he declared was associated with the hidden hoard, and would attach itself to any one discovering or touching the same, I heard more than one of the men give expression to a resolve to hunt for Captain Jackson’s cave as soon as he should have an opportunity, when his spell of work was over, or, at all events, on the completion of the dock and the floating of the ship—a halcyon period most devoutly prayed for by all of us as we slaved at our unaccustomed task.
Amongst those who had thus made up their minds to go after the treasure was myself; and I got full of the subject, though keeping my own council the while, and not informing any one of my intention.
Presently, at ‘eight bells,’ the skipper told me I might leave off work in the trench, and go with Hiram on board the ship to prepare tea for the hands. Morris Jones was ordered to accompany us, at the same time, to get the captain’s dinner ready; for, although we were ashore on a desert island, our ordinary routine as to meals and other matters was adhered to as regularly as if we had been at sea—the only exception being that no particular watch was kept, and that we all turned in together of a night and out likewise in the morning without distinction, all at the same time. Throughout the day we worked at digging out the trench, or ‘dock’ as Jan Steenbock persisted in calling it, under the ship, in gangs, in similar fashion to the mode that had been employed when unloading her, so as to get the task accomplished as quickly as possible; and, to facilitate this, the hands were divided into two batches, each having a spell of navvy’s work and a rest off between whiles, turn and turn about.
“Thet wer a mighty rum yarn the Dutchman spun jest now, I guess,” observed Hiram, as soon as we had got on board and reached the galley, Morris Jones leaving us awhile to ourselves, and going aft to fetch the skipper’s grub out of the pantry, where it was stowed. “I’m jiggered if I ever heerd tell o’ sich a yarn afore!”
“Don’t you think it true?” I said. “Mr Steenbock isn’t given to cramming, from all I have seen of him.”