CHAPTER XX
THE CONTENTS OF SEVERAL INTERESTING DOCUMENTS
“WELL, of all things!” ejaculated Mr. Pepper, as the old sailor produced the papers from their queer repository, while Brandon burst out laughing.
“There’s some reasons for being grateful for even a wooden leg,” remarked Caleb grimly. “I hid those papers there when I was aboard the raft, and if I’d passed in my checks I reckon papers an’ all would have gone to the sharks, for Leroyd would never have thought to look there for ’em.”
Then he strapped the artificial limb in place again, and gravely handed the package to Brandon. The boy had lost all desire to laugh now, for he was in possession of the last written words of his father, and for a moment his hands trembled and his eyes filled with tears.
“Open it, my lad,” said the sailor. “I haven’t touched the wrapper since Cap’n Horace gave it to me.”
Brandon untied the string which bound the package, and removed the oiled paper. There were several folded documents within and one was marked:
“To my son, Brandon,
Horace Tarr.”
Don quickly opened the paper, recognizing the chirography of the dead captain at once, although much of the writing was blurred and illy formed, showing how great a tax the effort had been for the injured and dying man. It read as follows:
ON BOARD THE RAFT,
TUESDAY NOON.
MY BELOVED SON:
We have now been on this raft two days, and I feel that my end is drawing near, although my companions will doubtless escape. But I have received a terrible blow on the head, and my sufferings at times are frightful; therefore I know I am not long for this world.
Oh, that I might see you again, my son! That I might be spared to reach you, and to put into your hand the power to make you the wealthy man I should have been had I lived. But no; it could not be. Fortune has at last come to the Tarrs, but I shall not share it; your uncle Anson was not benefited by it, and death will overtake me soon, too. But you, my son, I pray may regain the fortune which I have hidden aboard the brig.
We committed a grave error in leaving the wreck; I know that now. The hull of the Silver Swan was uninjured, and she may outlast many gales. I shall put these papers into Caleb Wetherbee’s hands ere I am called, and he, I know, will help you to regain the fortune which first belonged to Anson. Be guided by him, and trust him fully.
The letter from your uncle will explain all about the diamonds, and how he came in possession of them. I dared not take the gems with me from the brig, for Leroyd knew about them, or suspected their presence, and he would have killed us all for them, I fear.
But they are hidden in the steel lined closet—the one I showed you in the cabin. Caleb knows where it is. Go to the reef at once and get the jewels, before some one else gets there. There are diamonds enough to make you fabulously rich, if Anson appraised them rightly.
I am so weak that I cannot write longer.
These will probably be my last words on earth to you, my son. Live uprightly; fear God; and hold sacred your mother’s memory. God bless you, my boy! Farewell!
Your loving father,
HORACE TARR.
Tears fairly blinded Don’s eyes as he finished reading the missive. He passed it to Mr. Pepper, who, in turn, passed it to Caleb.
“He was a good man,” declared Adoniram softly, while the old sailor blew his nose loudly, and wiped the suspicious moisture from his eyes.
“That he were!” responded the latter. “Cap’n Horace were all that he tells you to be, Don.”
“Please God, I’ll be worthy of his memory,” said Brandon quietly. “If we are fortunate enough to obtain any of this treasure he speaks of. I hope I shall use it wisely, and as he would wish.”
“Don’t you fear—we’ll get it, lad,” Caleb assured him earnestly. “I feel it in my bones we will.”
“What else was there in the package?” asked the merchant curiously.
“There were two other papers,” Brandon replied. “One is my father’s will.”
He picked that up from his lap and opened it.
“Why,” he exclaimed, “you are named as executor, Mr. Pepper.”
He passed the legal document to Adoniram who adjusted the eye glasses (of which a new pair had been purchased), and examined it with manifest surprise.
“This is a legal will, as sure as I am alive!” he exclaimed. “It was drawn up at Rio by an American lawyer—a Mr. Bromley. Properly signed and witnessed.”
“Well, you’ll look out for it, won’t you?” said Caleb, who was eager to hear the other paper—the letter from Anson Tarr to his brother—read.
“Of course. But let me tell you its contents,” replied the merchant. “It is short and to the point, Caleb. You are given the Silver Swan, in fee simple, and everything else goes to Brandon, here.”
He read the paragraph which secured all the property of which Captain Tarr had been possessed, excepting the brig, to Brandon, including “certain uncut diamonds, roughly estimated at two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Two hundred thousand!” repeated Brandon, in bewilderment.
“Quite a pile, my boy,” said Caleb. “That is, if we get ’em.”
“And you and I, Caleb,” concluded Mr. Pepper, “are joint guardians of Don.”
“All right, all right,” cried the impatient sailor. “But let’s hear the other letter, my lad. Read it out.”
Thus urged, Brandon unfolded the third paper, and read its contents aloud:
“KIMBERLEY, SOUTH AFRICA,
“November the 27th, 1891.
“BROTHER HORACE:
“Probably you have long since believed me dead, and I have given you good reason for that belief, for, if I am not mistaken, it was eight years ago, after my miserable failure at the Australian gold diggings, that I last wrote to you.
“I intended then that you should never hear from me again. I was a failure—a complete failure, I believed—and I determined to tempt fortune no further. With this intention I went to an island in the Pacific, and buried myself there, with only natives and one other white man for company, for six years.
“Then the old roving spirit awoke in me again, and I longed to try my luck once more where other men were gaining wealth. The news of the rich finds here in the diamond fields reached even our lonely isle, and finally I could not resist the temptation longer, and came here, leaving my companion to dwell alone among the natives. I have been here now the better part of a year and, at last, have been successful!
“Two months ago I struck a pocket in the hills, and out of a trench less than two rods in length, I have dug what I believe to be at least forty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds of exceptional purity. But the diggings have now petered out.
“I kept the find a secret, and got all there was myself, excepting a small number which my black digger ran away with, and now I am afraid I shall not live to enjoy my riches.
“Perhaps it is as well. You know that riches have ever taken wings with us, and I should probably lose all in some other venture. I hope that you, Horace, will do better with them than I, for to you, brother, and to your boy, if he has lived, I bequeath the gems.
“I have been very ill now several days and the physician tells me that I am in a very bad way. Exposure to all sorts of weather in every kind of climate, is telling on me. Therefore I do write this to you, my brother, and take precaution to have the letter and the package of uncut stones sent to you.
“Nobody here knows of my find. It is safest to trust nobody in such a place as this. I propose to give the letter and the gems, all in a sealed packet, to a friend, who is the most trustworthy man I know, and have him give them to you. He will believe the package to contain nothing but papers, and therefore you will stand a good chance of getting the diamonds safely.
“Good by for this world, Horace. May the luck of the Tarrs be changed with this find of mine.
“Your brother,
“ANSON TARR.”
“Well,” exclaimed Caleb, with a sigh, as Brandon folded the document, “we’ve got the rights of it at last. Two hundred thousand dollars wuth o’ di’monds—for that’s what forty thousand pounds mean, I take it, eh, ’Doniram?”
“About that,” said the merchant. “You will be a very rich man, Don.”
“Let’s not count our chickens too soon,” said the youth, trying to stifle his excitement. “It seems too bewilderingly good to be true.”
“That’s a good idea about not countin’ our chickens,” said Caleb. “But we’ll have a whack at ’em just as soon as possible, my lad.”
“And you’ll let me furnish the vessel,” the merchant added.
“Let’s see,” said the old sailor. “You was saying something about havin’ one all ready. ’Doniram, wasn’t you?”
“One that can be ready in a week’s time, any way; and the craft you want, too—a whaleback.”
“I dunno,” said Caleb slowly. “I don’t fancy them new fangled things. What under the sun did you ever get a whaleback steamer for?”
Mr. Pepper looked at his old friend curiously, and his little eyes twinkled.
“Well,” he said reflectively, “oddly enough, I purchased Number Three from the American Barge Company for the very purpose for which you wish to use it.”
“What?” shouted Caleb.
“Not to go in search of the Silver Swan?” cried Brandon, in wonder.
“No, not exactly that; but to go in quest of derelicts in general.”
“Another of your crazy ideas, ’Doniram!” Caleb declared finally.
“Perhaps; but I notice that most of my ‘crazy ideas’ turn out pretty successfully, old Timbertoes,” said the little merchant jovially. “If you’ll give me a chance, though, I’ll explain how I came to think of this ‘crazy idea.’”