“But—surely you can’t have a gold mine in the middle of a swamp!”
“There you’re wrong. Martinengo not only has a gold mine, and a most profitable one, at that—he also runs suction dredges.”
“How come?” Bill was intensely interested.
“The rock floor of the Everglades and these cypress swamps is usually found at a depth not exceeding six feet; but in some places it is twice that far down,” replied the young Seminole chief. “There is gold in the rock below the swamp near here. Martinengo has workings in that rock.”
“Coffer dam?”
“Yes, a coffer dam has been built to keep the water out. The rock near the top is fairly soft and that is probably why the muck on the bottom of the swamp hereabouts contains gold. The colors or particles of the metal run very fine, but they are profitable to mine. At least Martinengo finds it so. For that work suction dredges are used. Oh, you’ll get better acquainted with the whole business soon.”
Bill said nothing for a minute or two. Presently he observed: “What I don’t understand yet, is why Martinengo kidnaps people and keeps them prisoners in this horrible place.”
“Because,” Osceola answered slowly, “the mines are made doubly profitable by using slave labor.”
“What!” exploded Bill, leaning forward.
“Slave labor, my friend. And you and I are two of the slaves. It is cheaper for that gangster Martinengo and his brothers to kidnap negroes, Indians and poor whites than to hire miners. The work is terrific and the climate frightfully unhealthy. These devils would have to pay a very high wage to legitimate workmen. As it is, we don’t live long, here. What with long working hours in a climate that approximates a Turkish bath, the cruelty meted out by the overseers, starvation rations, the general filth and the hopelessness of our position—well, two or three months of it is about as long as the average man can stand. Swamp fever, snake bite and other diseases usually cut the time shorter.”