When a Witch is Young: A Historical Novel by Philip Verrill Mighels - HTML preview

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CHAPTER XVIII.
 
THE GLINT OF TREASURE.

THE brig “Captain Spencer,” came duly to her goal at the green Bahamas. What with wounds received from the pirates, who had called so unceremoniously, and from sea-sickness, which they always had, the beef-eaters were glad of the sight of land. Phipps and Rust were filled with rejoicings by reason of the dreams they had of thrusting a naked arm apiece into the sea and fetching up handfuls of gold with which to return to two sweet women in Boston.

All hands were presently doomed to disappointment. Phipps learned that his treasure-ship was indeed a fact, but that she was small, both in tonnage and her burden of Spanish coins, that she lay in many fathoms of water and that, indeed, she was scarcely worth serious attention.

Phipps was, however, a popular man at these bits of jeweled land in the emerald sea. He had traded there on several occasions, making friends always. Thus it came that a hobbling old salt, whom he had befriended in a scrimmage, consoled him with the information of a large treasure-ship, sunk somewhere in the neighborhood of Hispaniola. He resolved at once to pursue this matter to the end, for which purpose the “Captain Spencer” would be wholly inadequate, as the Spanish Main was as filled with pirates as the sky may be of buzzards over dying caravans.

With the approval of the entire party, the brig was now headed for England, Adam and Phipps feeling confident of their ability to secure a larger ship for their enterprise.

On familiar soil when the “Spencer” at length came to anchor, off the tower of London, in the Thames, Adam had little difficulty in finding a market for the brig. With the proceeds of the sale in his pockets, William Phipps, under Adam’s tuition, blossomed out as a gentleman of no little personal attractiveness. Adam, as one born to the purple, donned a handsome attire and swaggered with all the elegance of a prince.

He was soon in the midst of his former acquaintances, with one of whom he fought a duel at the end of the first week, requiring his vanquished foe, who was only sufficiently wounded to be satisfied, to kneel in humility and to wipe the victor’s blade clean of his own red juice, on the hem of his coat.

Rust until now had never had occasion to regret the disfavor in which Charles Stuart held him, since a certain distinguished lady had declared the “Sachem” to be vastly more entertaining than his Majesty with ready narratives. However, he was undismayed, for with James, fated so soon to be king, he was amazingly friendly.

William Phipps, for his part, needed but one introduction and no recommendation. Above all things temporal, James reveled in naval adventure. Blunt, gallant Captain Phipps appealed to him instantly. The tale of the treasure-ship set him aflame with eagerness to go with this adventurous company to the western Indies, where he could readily picture himself, Phipps and Adam fighting their way to the rotting strongholds of the Spanish galleon, sunk there half a century before.

With an alacrity which was of a highly complimentary character to Phipps and Rust, the Prince procured a fine vessel, the “Rose-Algier,” with a crew of ninety-five men and an armament of eighteen guns, and gave her into the trust of his friends for their enterprise. It was agreed that inasmuch as he thus found the ship and the expenses of the venture, he should have ninety per cent. of whatsoever treasure should be recovered, Phipps declaring for himself and Adam how contented they would be with the remaining one-tenth.

Late in the year, which was 1684, the “Rose-Algier” bore away for Hispaniola, Phipps, Adam, and the faithful beef-eaters, whom seasickness nor peril could drive from Adam’s side, soon beginning to wonder what manner of crew it was with which they had shipped. A few weeks later, King Charles the Second died. James ascended the throne. Thus the treasure-seekers were backed by the English monarch and his government.

A sunken ship has frequently proved to be a small thing, and the ocean a large one, to the seeker, eager for its cargo. The “Rose-Algier” dipped into all manner of harbors and her master asked all manner of people all manner of questions, to no avail. The months slipped by, in this tedious occupation, the crew grew weary of a voyage so profitless and so entirely unpromising.

The grumblings of mutiny have a way of keeping below decks, where they simmer volcanically. Nevertheless the beef-eaters heard something of the discontent in the fo’castle, where the ruffians of the crew were for seizing the vessel, running up the black flag and turning pirate forthwith. The Rose was a swift, great bird upon the waves, she was armed to the teeth, she was well provisioned. What more could be desired for buccaneering? And piracy paid its disciples handsomely. Spain and France, particularly, had a hundred argosies in constant flight between the West Indies and home. Gold was the commonest burden of all. Your pirate was a dare-devil, whose life was reputed to be one long round of adventure, drinking and looting. All pirates either died happy or hung, and anything was better than this pothering about in a good ship, seeking for treasure that was sunk admittedly, while millions of treasure was afloat and nearly all to be had for the asking. With precious few exceptions the crew agreed that this was true enough for every practical purpose.