# Spanish Gold/Chapter 12
### CHAPTER XII

NEXT morning Meldon awoke earlier than usual. He turned out of his bunk at half-past five, and, as yachtsmen often do, began the day by tapping the barometer. It had fallen during the night and was still falling. He went on deck and looked round him. There was no sign visible as yet of a change in the weather. Everything pointed to the certainty of at least one more hot day. He returned to the cabin and shook Major Kent.
"It's not time for you to get up yet," he said. "But I thought I might as well warn you that you'll have to be dressed and ready to start by half-past six."
"I'm not going on a fool's errand at any such hour in the morning," growled the Major.
"I thought you'd very likely say that when you woke. That's the reason I shook you up a bit before it was absolutely necessary. Some people are at their best when they first wake. All really great men are. I am, myself. Other people wake slowly and are uncommonly short in their temper for an hour or so after they get up. That's the sort you are. If you had a wife I'd pity her at breakfast-time."
Meldon went on deck again and surveyed first the Aureole, then Higginbotham's hut. At the end of a quarter of an hour he returned to the Major.
"It's all right," he said. "Higginbotham is stirring and I see Jamesy O'Flaherty fiddling about at the curragh. They'll be off in a few minutes. You'd better be getting up if you want half an hour to dress yourself. We'll breakfast on shore."
"I won't."
Meldon made no answer to this flat refusal. He went on deck again and stared through the glasses at the beach beside the pier. He saw Higginbotham embark in the curragh, watched Jamesy O'Flaherty take the oars, shove off and begin to row steadily. He returned to Major Kent.
"He's gone," he reported. "I hardly dared to hope he would, but he has. In a few minutes he'll be out of the bay. Then I'll swim across to the Aureole at once."
"What for?"
"To deal with the punt, of course. There's a nice little westerly breeze, and when I cast loose the painter she'll drift quietly out to sea."
"J. J., I've stood a lot of your foolery, but I'm not going to allow you to commit theft before my eyes and I'm not going ashore without my breakfast."
"I'll take your two points separately," said Meldon. "There doesn't seem to be any connection between them. First, there's no theft in taking my own punt and sending her out to sea. Second, you must come on shore at once or else the other fellows will wake. They can't get off the Aureole when they do, of course. But I'd rather not have them howling after us. It wouldn't look well if we refused to go back for them. People might say afterwards that we'd taken their punt from them. Whereas if we're well out of the way before they wake we can't be blamed for their being stuck all day on the Aureole."
"It's ten to one they see you setting the punt adrift, and then there'll be a nice row."
"They won't. What would have them up at this hour of the day? They know jolly well that the tide won't be low enough to get into that hole at the bottom of the cliff till about ten o'clock. They won't expect us to stir till after eight, anyhow. But I can't stop here arguing with you. You get a few bits of bread and some butter and sardines and things together, and I'll be off."
Meldon dropped over the side of the Spindrift and struck out for the Aureole. He watched her keenly as he swam, and saw no signs of life on board her. The morning breeze ruffled the surface of the water slightly. The tiny ripples beat against his chin and cheek. The sun shone red through a faint haze. Meldon swam joyously. He was filled with the spirit of adventure and with delightful anticipations of success. The Aureole lay with her bow pointing to the shore. The punt was astern of her. Now and then she pulled at her painter just sufficiently strongly to lift it from the water and haul it taut. Then, while the drops still fell from it, the rope grew slack again and the punt ran up a little towards the yacht. The gurgling wash of the ripples against her side was pleasant to hear. Meldon gripped her by the stern, steadied himself, and lay almost flat on the water with his legs near the surface to avoid the suction of the punt. Then with a sharp jerk of his arms he raised himself till hi chest touched the gunwale. He climbed cautiously on board, loosed the painter from the ring in the bow and lay still for a minute or two, watching the distance between him and the Aureole widen slowly. The breeze was light, and the punt did not drift very fast. Still, she moved towards the mouth of the bay. Sir Giles and Langton were apparently sound asleep. Meldon slid quietly into the water again and started on his return journey to the Spindrift. Now and then he turned over on his back and swam for a few yards with his eyes fixed on the Aureole. There was no sign of awakening on board of her.
He climbed into the Spindrift by the bight of rope he had left hanging over the side for his accommodation.
"Major," he said in a delighted whisper, "the coup has come off. Where's my shirt? Isn't it extraordinary the way things move about during the night. I could have sworn I left it on the end of my bunk. Ah! I have it. Now the sooner we're off the better. Slip the breakfast into the punt and get in yourself. Go on, man. If you want to argue, argue when we're on shore. We haven't a minute to lose. I wouldn't trust that beast Langton not to sneak up in his pyjamas to have a look at us. He did yesterday."
Major Kent, grumbling and protesting, was hustled into the punt. Meldon followed him and paddled briskly to the shore. There was no one, not even Mary Kate, on the pier when they reached it.
"Now," said Meldon, "get that punt ashore and fold her up. We're going to take her with us."
"Why should we drag the punt? We'll only be cutting her to pieces on the rocks."
"Why? Because in the first place, as you'd see if you troubled yourself to think for a single instant, if we leave her here some fool will go off to the Aureole in her when those fellows begin to shout for help. In the next place, because you can't swim, and we'll want her to carry you up the channel to the bottom of the cliff. I must say that these collapsible punts, beastly as they are to row in, have certain good points. We couldn't have carried the ordinary wooden boat all round the island. Just you fold her up while I go over to the curragh there on the shore."
Major Kent lifted the punt out of the water and folded her flat. Then he looked up and saw Meldon, with four oars on his shoulders, going up the hill towards Higginbotham's house.
"What are you doing?" he called.
"I found four oars," said Meldon, "and I'm going to put them in through one of the windows of Higginbotham's house. Nobody will think of looking for them there. I wish to goodness you wouldn't shout at me like that. You'll waken every man on the island before you've done, to say nothing of Sir Giles and Langton."
The Major pursued Meldon up the hill and seized him by the arm.
"J. J," he said earnestly, "I call this theft."
He had the true English respect for law in spite of the fact that both him and his father had spent their lives in Ireland. The very thought of an unhallowed interference with property shocked him inexpressibly.
"You may call it arson if you like," said Meldon, who had nothing but Irish blood in his veins, "or malicious injury, or agrarian outrage, or intimidation. I don't care if you call it cattle-driving or even boycotting. I'm going to stow the oars away all the same. I can't have the owners of the curragh rowing off to the Aureole and putting Sir Giles on shore as soon as our backs are turned."
Meldon breasted the hill and reached the iron hut. He tried each of the four windows in turn. They were all bolted. With the end of one of the oars he deliberately smashed a pane of glass.
"For Heaven's sake, don't," said the Major.
"I must; Higginbotham will probably grumble, but that can't be helped. He'd no right to go away and leave his house barred and bolted as if he was afraid of burglars."
"He very well might be afraid of burglars when you're about."
"Now look here," said Meldon as he shoved the oars through the broken pane, "I don't mind your being abusive, not the least bit. You've been calling me a liar and a burglar and other bad names since ever I brought you to this island. I haven't resented it a bit and I don't. But I tell you what I do dislike, and that's your abominable unreasonableness. I can't bear men who are carried away by mere words and don't stop to think about the meaning of what they say. What is burglary? Isn't it taking a man's own things out of his house when he's not looking? You agree to that definition, I suppose. Very well. What am I doing? I'm putting other people's things into a man's house when he's not looking. Now that's just the exact, bang opposite to what burgling is. Therefore, I'm not a burglar. In fact, I'm the very antithesis of a burglar. You may not know what an antithesis is, but——"
"I do know, so you need not trouble to explain."
"Very well, I'll pursue my line of reasoning. Burglary is wrong. You hinted that yourself a minute ago. But the antithesis of wrong is right. What I'm doing is the antithesis of burglary. Therefore——"
"There's no need to go on talking that rot," said the Major. "It doesn't impress me in the least."
"I feared it wouldn't. Never mind, Major, even if you don't pocket a single doubloon—and I'll be greatly surprised if you're not weighed down with them before morning, but even if you don't pocket one, you're getting a liberal education. The things I've told you about geology, entomology, theology, ethics, and philosophy in general, since we came to this island would set up an ordinary professor handsomely."
Meldon slung the folded punt across his shoulders, took a last look at the Aureole and started to tramp up to the head of the path which led down the cliff to the western beach of the island. Major Kent, with the paddles, the rowlocks, and the basket which contained the breakfast, followed him. The inhabitants of Inishgowlan are not early risers. A few women peered out through the doors of the cabins. Nobody attempted to speak to them or follow them. Neither Thomas O'Flaherty Pat nor Mary Kate appeared at all. Meldon and the Major walked rapidly. At the top of the cliff they paused.
"We're pretty safe now," said Meldon, "and we'll take a few minutes' rest, but we won't breakfast till we're down among the rocks."
He swung the punt off his shoulders as he spoke, sat down and wiped his brow.
"If I'm not mistaken," said the Major, "there's some one on the deck of the Aureole now."
Meldon stood up and looked eagerly.
"There is," he said. "You're quite right. See now, they're both on deck. Well, they can stay there."
"What'll they do now?"
"Shout, I should think. I can't myself see what else there is for them to do. Sir Giles might swim, but it's not likely the other fellow can. That sort of man never does anything really useful. Anyway, if they do swim, they can't carry all their tackle with them for getting down the cliff. All the same, I think we'll move on a bit."
"I'm inclined to go back to them," said the Major. "I don't like——. After all, they've not done anything to us."
"It's not what they've done so much as what they want to do which makes me determine to keep them there. Recollect, Major, they're after the treasure."
"Well, haven't they as good a right to it as we have? I like to play fair."
"They have not as good a right as we have. I deny that entirely. Think of the use those fellows would make of the treasure if they got it. You told me yourself that Sir Giles was a bad hat—so bad that his own father left the family property away from him, as much of it as he could. Langton's no better. You heard what Higginbotham said about his drinking, and he must have a hideously corrupted mind after poking about for years among those manuscripts in the College Library. You don't know how bad most manuscripts are. That's the reason they remain manuscripts. No decent printer would set them up in type. I tell you, if those two fellows get a hold of the treasure, they'll spend it in ways that will make the Spanish captain shiver in his grave, and I don't expect he was exactly a squeamish man. It's nothing but a public duty to prevent their getting a hold of the money, even if we never touch a penny of it ourselves."
"I don't see what all that, even if it's true, has to do with their right to take the treasure if they can, always supposing there is any treasure to take."
"I wish you wouldn't qualify everything you say with a whole string of 'if's,' It robs your conversation of piquancy. But come on now. We must get out of this. They might see us with their glasses. When we've had our breakfast, I'll explain to you why Sir Giles has no right to the treasure."
They made their way down the steep path and reached the rocks at the foot of the cliff. Meldon laid the punt down carefully. The basket was unpacked and a sufficient supply of bread, butter, sardines, potted meat, and jam was spread out on a flat stone. For a while Meldon ate without speaking. An early swim, a long walk, and an hour or two of anxious excitement, whet a man's appetite for breakfast. Major Kent began to hope that he would escape an explanation of his own moral right to the treasure. He was disappointed. Meldon, his appetite sated, lit a pipe and leaned back comfortably against a rock.
"We may as well take it easy for a bit," he said. "The tide won't be out far enough to let us get into that hole for another two hours, and it won't take us more than one to get there."
He smoked contentedly for a few minutes and then began to speak again—
"You read the Times, Major, so I suppose you take some interest in politics."
"I know that the Nationalists are blackguards, if that's what you mean."
"I'm not talking now of these petty little local squabbles. When I say politics, I refer to the great stream of European thought, to the wide movements discernible among all civilised peoples."
He waved his hand towards the ocean to indicate the immensity of his subject.
"I don't know anything about that," said the Major.
"I thought you wouldn't, but you ought to. Are you aware that our modern civilisation is on the very verge of a bust-up? No? Well, it is. The Governments of the various countries are, generally speaking, unaware of the catastrophe which threatens them; or, if they guess anything, are foolish enough to think that they can stifle an explosion by sitting on the safety-valve. You catch my meaning, I suppose?"
"You appear to mean," said the Major, "that all Kings, Princes, Presidents, Prime Ministers, and Parliaments are fools."
"Precisely. They all are."
"It's a pity you don't tell them so."
"I will. I've always intended to tell the first one I met. Look at Russia. Choke-full of anarchists and nihilists. Look at Portugal. They're murdering kings and rioting in churches. Look at Finland, admitting women to their Parliament; not that I object to women in the way you do, Major. I think they're all right in their proper place. I only quote Finland as an instance of the general tendency I'm speaking of. Look at New York, with its Socialist riots. Look at Austria-Hungary, or Italy, or any other country you choose to name. Look at the Labour Members in the English House of Commons. Now what does all that mean?"
"I don't know in the least, and I don't care. Things were always pretty much the same. There's nothing new in the condition of the world that I can see."
"You may not see it, but there is. We're on the brink of a revolution—the biggest thing of the kind that there has ever been. And the cause of it is the concentration of wealth in the hands of a few people who are using it for purely selfish purposes. Any student of sociology will tell you the same thing. It's a well-known fact. Now what is our duty under the circumstances? What is the duty of every well-disposed person who values the stability of civilisation? Obviously it is to prevent the selfish, depraved, and fundamentally immoral people from acquiring wealth; to see that only the well-intentioned and public-spirited get rich. That is the general principle. Now apply it to the particular case we are discussing. On this island there is untold wealth in solid gold."
"I suppose," said the Major, "that I shall come to believe that in the end. I hear it so often that I shan't be able to help myself."
"There are just two parties who stand a chance of possessing themselves of it. There's no one else in the running for this particular scoop."
"What about Higginbotham and Thomas O'Flaherty?"
"You might just as well say, What about Mary Kate and Michael Pat? They're not in it. Higginbotham is a Government official, to mention only one point, and is so much occupied in ameliorating the condition of the people that he simply wouldn't have time to spend the money, even if he got it. No. There's us and there's Sir Giles and Langton. That's all. Now, ex hypothesi—you know what I mean by ex hypothesi, don't you?"
"I do, but don't let that stop you if you have any fancy for explaining it. I shan't mind listening."
"Your suggestion, Major, as one of the members of our District Council said the other day, when some one accused them all of being drunk, is quite uncalled for. It's only for your sake, to quiet your conscience about the treasure, that I'm going into the matter at all. My own mind is quite clear. I haven't any doubts about Sir Giles."
"If that's all, you needn't go into it any more."
"All right. I won't. Have another sardine? There are two left in the tin. Now that I've finished my pipe I feel that I could do with one of them. In fact I could manage them both if you don't want the other."
"I don't."
"Sure? Oh, well, rather than let them go to waste, I'll eat them."
He took them one after the other by their tails, and, throwing his head back, dropped them into his mouth. With his penknife he scraped out of the pot Some fragments of jam which lingered near the bottom. There was no more bread. Having finished this scanty second breakfast he stood up and stretched himself. Then he announced that it was time to start. Major Kent rose unwillingly and took up the paddles. Meldon swung the punt on to his back again.
"No sign of old T. O. P. this morning," he said. "We've successfully given him the slip. I expect he's cowering in his gloomy cabin, meditating on fresh ways of defeating Higginbotham. Sir Giles and Langton have probably stopped shouting for help by this time. They're too hoarse, I expect, to shout any more. They are now reduced to gnashing their teeth silently and muttering frightful oaths. Higginbotham is searching for bacilli on Inishmore. Poor Higginbotham! I'm afraid it'll be a dull and trying day for him. But we'll make it up to him afterwards. Mary Kate is, I hope, doing her duty by her little cousin Michael Pat and making things a bit easier for young Mrs. O'Flaherty. When we get back to Ballymoy, Major, we'll send a good stiff bottle off to the old woman. Remind me of that, will you, in case it slips my memory. On the whole, things look rosy for you and me—a great deal rosier than I ever recollect them looking before. Come along now, we've no more time to waste."