Maseden examined it critically.
“By Jove!” he cried; “this is Aztec work, and hammered out of solid gold!”
“There’s five more of the same sort,” said Sturgess, in a voice cracked with excitement. “And this strikes me as something worth while.”
He produced a crudely modeled figure of a puma, the body in silver and the head, feet, and tail in gold. The eyes and claws were of polished quartz, and were bright as when the ornament left the hands of the Mexican lapidary who fashioned it. The metals, of course, were tarnished, the silver being black with age, but both men realized that they were gazing at a splendid specimen of a long-forgotten art.
“How much of this sort of stuff is there?” said Maseden, his imagination running riot as to the possible history of this unrecorded argosy.
“Twelve pieces altogether,” chuckled Sturgess. “Six gold pitchers, four animals and two carved dishes, each of gold. I’ve rummaged around carefully, and that’s the lot. For’ard of this section is a hold, and, from what I can make out, it was loaded with furs and cloth, but the cargo is all mussed up with salt and lime.”
“Show me one of the dishes.”
Sturgess brought forth an oval-shaped dish, made, like the vessels, of solid gold. On its broad rim were chased twelve weird-looking creatures which reminded Maseden of the signs of the Zodiac; in the sunken center appeared a very elaborate design consisting of four trees, a bird perched on the topmost branches of each. Long afterwards he learned that this cartoon represented, in Aztec picture-writing, the four famous chiefs who founded the Aztec dynasty.
At any rate, he knew at the time that the hoard which Sturgess had discovered was of great archæological interest, apart from the intrinsic value of the precious metals, itself no small sum.
“We ought to devote the necessary time to a thorough survey of the wreck,” he said thoughtfully. “Meanwhile what have you at the back of your head about Nina and Madge? What did you mean by saying it would make matters easier?”