Spanish Gold. George A. Birmingham
it. As it is, we've got to do without it. The first thing is to put ourselves in the place of the Spanish captain. That's the way great detectives always begin. They put themselves in the other fellow's place and think what they'd have done if they'd been him. Now, supposing you'd been the Spanish captain and found that you couldn't carry off your treasure, what would you have done with it?"
"I suppose I'd have dug a hole and buried it."
"No, you wouldn't. Not unless you'd been a perfect fool. If you'd been the Spanish captain you'd have had more sense than you appear to have now."
"Then it wouldn't have been me."
"It would, because we started with the supposition that you were the Spanish captain, and he must have had some sense. You don't suppose the Spaniards, the greatest nation on earth at the time, would have started off a thing like that Armada without seeing that the captains of the ships were sensible men. Of course they wouldn't."
"But if the captain had sense and I haven't——"
"There's no use arguing round a subject in that way. Put it like this. Suppose I was the Spanish captain, what would I have done? I wouldn't have dug a hole, because I would have known that the people of the island would have watched me dig it. Even if I'd dug it at night they'd have seen the marks next morning, and the moment my back was turned they'd have dug the treasure up again. You must give the captain credit for being a reasonable man."
"Well, now you've barred burying the treasure, which I still think was the obvious thing "
"Too obvious. That's my point."
"What would you do? There aren't any caves on the island that ever I heard of."
"I shouldn't have put it into a cave in any case. A cave is exactly the place the amateur treasure-seeker always looks for first. No. If I were the Spanish captain I should have picked out an unobtrusive-looking hole or cleft in the rocks, just above high-water mark, and dumped my stuff down there. What we have to do is to find that hole or cleft."
"That will be a longish job," said the Major. "I should guess the island to be about two miles around. It will take some time to poke into every hole in two miles of rough rocks."
"We shan't do that. We shall proceed on a carefully reasoned, scientific plan, which I shall think out and explain to you when we get there."
Meldon lit his pipe, which he had hitherto neglected, poured himself out a cup of coffee, and sat down. He remained silent, and it was evident that he was thinking out the scientific plan. The Major took up his Times and began to read a leading article on the appallingly lawless condition of Ireland. At the end of a quarter of an hour Meldon spoke.
"Have you a map of the island?"
"No. I have a chart and the sailing directions, but they are on board the Spindrift."
Again Meldon remained silent for a time. Then he asked
"Are there many people on the island?"
"Ten families, I believe," said the Major. "All cousins of each other."
"I ask," said Meldon, "because if there are people there we may find it necessary to adopt some disguise."
"If you imagine for a moment that I'm going to wander round that island, or any other, dressed up in a false beard and blue spectacles——"
"I don't imagine anything of the kind. When I said that we must adopt some disguise, I meant that we must be able to give a reasonable account of our proceedings to the natives. If we let them know we're after their treasure there may be trouble. They will naturally want to go shares in our find."
"I'd take half a crown," said the Major, "for all I find."
Meldon knocked the ashes out of his pipe and rose.
"I must be off," he said. "I've got to see Doyle and that fellow Langton to-night about hiring my boat to them. I was thinking of asking £30 for the month."
"The boat's not worth it to buy," said the Major. "You only gave £25 for her."
"Well, I said I'd ask £30. I'm quite prepared to take £25. That will simply be getting my money back, with no profit on the business at all."
"You'll have the boat at the end of the month."
"Will I? Unless the friend he talks about is a different sort of man from what Langton looks there'll be precious little of the Aureole left at the end of the month."
"All right," said the Major. "Get what you can. If the man is fool enough to hire your Aureole for £25 he's certainly fool enough to smash her up. But I advise you to see the colour of his money before you hand over the boat."
Meldon winked.
"In any case," said the Major, "he'd be a fool to go to sea in her. She's rotten."
"I don't expect he wants to go to sea," said Meldon. "He'll just potter about among the islands in the bay. Anyway, he's got to take my boat if he wants one at all. You won't hire yours, and there's no other. Doyle said this afternoon that there were plenty, but that was only to encourage Langton to stay on at the hotel. There's nothing else that could be called a yacht within fifty miles of Ballymoy. But I must be off. Let me see, is there anything else we have to settle?"
"You might fix a day for starting," said the Major.
"Monday next. I'll see the rector to-morrow and arrange about it. I could start on Sunday night if you like. It's my turn to preach in the evening and I'd cut it a bit short, so as to be out here with you by half-past seven."
"No, thanks. Monday morning will be time enough for me, But we'll get off early. You'd better come out and sleep here or on the boat I'm glad you're coming, J. J. We'll have a jolly cruise. We'll spend a couple of days on the small island and then run across to the big one."
"We'll do nothing of the sort. I can't give more than a week altogether, and it will take us all that time to get the treasure."
"You don't mean to say that you really expect to get that treasure?"
"I do, of course. I tell you, Major, I've all my life had a taste for treasure-seeking. Next to piracy or being wrecked on a desert island, there's nothing in the world I'm so keen on as hidden treasure. I'm pretty sure that I have a special talent for finding it. Do you suppose I'm going to miss my chance now I've got it? Not likely."
"J. J.," said the Major solemnly, "you're a bigger fool than any one would take you for by your looks."
"All right. Just you wait till we're coming home again, and see who is the fool then."
CHAPTER III
MELDON mounted his bicycle and rode towards Ballymoy even more rapidly than he had ridden out in the afternoon. It was a moonless night and the road in some places was difficult to see. About three miles from the town Meldon ran into a donkey, which, after a fashion common among donkeys in Connacht, was lying asleep in the middle of the road. The creature was greatly startled but not much hurt. It floundered over the bank into the nearest field as quickly as its hobbled forelegs allowed it. Meldon was pitched over his handle-bars and cut the palms of both his hands. He picked himself up and found that the front forks of his bicycle were badly bent. It was impossible to ride and almost impossible to wheel the machine. With the perfect confidence in everybody's honesty which residence in the West of Ireland begets in a man, he laid the machine in the ditch and walked on. His card was in the tool-bag, and he felt sure that some carter would bring the thing into the town in the morning. He whistled cheerfully as he tramped along. The Rev. J. J. Meldon had an excellent temper. It took more than a trifling accident and a few cuts to upset it. He didn't even use unkind language about the donkey.
It was late when he arrived in Ballymoy. The windows of most