And so the first day passed, and I did calculate that--allowing for my
rest--I had left Coffin Island some twenty to fifteen leagues behind
me, and, so that I should not pass the Bajo and thereby run on to
_Moushoire Carré_, or Turk's Islands, I shortened sail. Yet this I
need not have done neither, for in some way I had not got my
calculations aright. At dawn there was no land in sight as I thought
to see, so that the galliot had not sailed as I guessed, or I had
missed my course. The wind, however, and the sun forbade me to think
this, so I made all sail again and went on.
At midday I did discover I was on the right tack; Cape Françoy and
Samana rose on my beam end, therefore I knew that by altering my
course a point to the north I must strike the spot where the reef was.
And this I did, judging by the sun that it was four of the afternoon
when first I saw the little shoal waters over it.
I know not even now if I was glad or sorry to perceive--as I did very
soon--that the _Furie_ was no longer there. Yet I think it was the
latter, for I had hoped to hear the cheery shout of Phips, to see my
brother officers come round me, to hear the welcomes of the men, and
to be able to tell my tale. But 'twas not to be. All around the reef
was as lonely as if no plate ship had ever sunk there, no attempts
ever been made to get up its contents, no horrid tragedy happened such
as that when Phips slew the Black and executed of his companion. Birds
flew about all over it, seeking perhaps for scraps of food where not a
month ago they had found a plenty, the little waves foamed over the
sunken reef where the now emptied treasure ship lay--but that was all.
No! I forget. 'Twas not all. As I drew near I saw sticking up from the
water--as I had not been able to see before because of the flittings
of the many gulls--that which looked like a jagged piece of mast, or
yard of a ship, with something crosswise atop of it, and my curiosity
being great I got the galliot near to it. I knew I could do this,
since she had gone over the reef often enough when acting as a tender,
and when 'twas done I saw that it was indeed a mast standing up
endwise in the water, the lower part doubtless fixed into some crevice
or hole by the diver ere the _Furie_ left. And the cross-piece nailed
on to the top of the mast was in the form of a big arrow rudely
carved, placed so that it pointed towards where Europe was, and with
on it the words, "To Nicholas Crafer. Make your way home." That was
all, yet it told enough. The _Furie_ had gone home with the treasure;
if I was still alive I was to go too.
* * * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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