The Rushton Boys at Treasure Cove Part 4

"My father was in business in Boston about fifteen years ago," Ross began. "I was just a baby then, and, of course, I don't know anything about those days except what I've been told since by my mother.

"Father was a good business man and he had built up a fairly large trade. We had a home in a suburb near Boston and all the money we needed. The business had been expanding, and father had put into it not only all his own ready money, but a lot that he had borrowed from his friends. Then hard times came. Of course he had to retrench in every way he could. He took in his sails and worked hard to weather the storm.

He'd have succeeded, too, but just as things were looking brighter, a big bank failure knocked him out completely."

There was a murmur of sympathy from the boys.

"As if that wasn't enough, he came down with brain fever," went on Ross.

"I suppose it was brought on by worry and overwork. Anyway, when he got on his feet again, everything had gone to smash and he didn't have a cent left. Worse than that, he was in debt for a good many thousand dollars.

"Father was honest though," and there was a touch of pride in the boy's voice. "Everybody that knew him at all knew that. If his health had been good, he could have started in all over again, and even some of the men to whom he owed money would have lent him more to get him on his feet.

But the doctor told him it would be simply suicide for him to go on under the circ.u.mstances, and that he'd have to go away somewhere and take a long rest.

"All of his property had gone to his creditors, but mother owned a small place up in Canada on the Gulf of St. Lawrence. She had inherited it from her father, and as it was free and clear, the whole family packed up and went out there.

"It was a complete change from the life we had lived before and my father's health began to mend right away. There was a good deal of valuable lumber on the place and as there was a good demand for this, he sold it at a profit. Then, too, he traded a good deal with the trappers who came out of the forests every spring with their skins and furs.

"Money began to pile up and father was feeling fine. It wasn't so much because _he_ was getting the money, though of course that was a great thing, but he was fairly crazy to pay off every cent of the money he owed when he went into bankruptcy. He was a very proud man and couldn't bear to be in any one's debt. I've often heard him say to mother that the day he stood clear with the world again would be the happiest day of his life.

"He had kept a careful record of every cent he owed in a little memorandum book. Here it is now."

Ross reached into his pocket and drew out a small morocco-covered book that gleamed red in the light of the fire.

CHAPTER V

THE CHEST OF GOLD

Ross Montgomery turned over the pages rapidly, and the boys could see a number of accounts in a precise, methodical script.

"The first two or three years were the hardest," the strange boy went on, "but after that the money came in fast. Father made a number of investments in lumber and in fis.h.i.+ng interests, and everything he touched seemed to bring him luck. By the time I was six years old, he had got enough together to pay all his debts and make him independent for life.

"There was one funny thing about it, though. He had burned his fingers so badly in that big bank failure that he never would trust a bank again. Every dollar he got above what he needed to use in business, he stored away in an oak chest that he kept in a secret place at home. He had no use for paper money either. He'd take it, of course, when he couldn't get anything else, but the first chance he got he'd change it for gold. Of course it was just a whim of his, but somehow it made him feel safer. Maybe it was a little mental twist left from his siege of brain fever. At any rate that's the way he felt, and he kept piling up the gold in that old chest. All sorts of money, too, English, Canadian, French and American coins. I was small then and didn't know much of the value of money, but I can remember once how the pieces shone when father gathered up a handful and let the coins fall in a shower back into the chest----"

"Gee!" interrupted Teddy, "just think of it. A rain of gold!"

"I'd like to be caught out in such a shower," laughed Fred.

"And I wouldn't want any umbrella to ward it off either," added Bill.

"Cork up, you money grabbers, and let Ross go on with his story," Lester laughingly advised.

"It brought bad luck to father, though," said Ross soberly. "If it hadn't been for that gold he might be alive to-day."

It was the first intimation the boys had had that the lad's father was dead, and they kept a respectful silence during the moment that followed while Ross seemed struggling with painful memories.

"A little over nine years ago," the boy went on at last, "father concluded that he had enough on hand to settle with all his creditors, capital and interest, and still have enough left to make him independent for life. He planned to leave mother and me--I haven't any brothers or sisters--at home, while he came down to Boston and settled the claims.

Then he was going to pick out a home here and send for us to come to him. Although he had made the money in Canada, he had always felt homesick for his own country.

"Then the question came up," continued Ross, "of how he was to get the money down here. Of course, the safer way would have been to take it to some Canadian bank and get a draft on Boston. But I've told you of the bitter feeling he had toward all banks, and he'd counted so long on turning over that identical gold to his creditors that he couldn't give it up.

"We were a long distance from any large city, and the only way to travel by sea was to take some sailing vessel that stopped once in a while at a town near by. There was a good deal of smuggling going on just then between Canada and this country, and as there was a big profit in it, almost all the coastwise sailing vessels took a hand in it now and then.

Sometimes it would be opium that had been landed on the Pacific coast and brought over to Quebec. Then, too, there were French laces and silks and wines.

"Of course it was illegal, but lots of people couldn't see much harm in it. You know how it is with people that come over from Europe to New York. A vast number of them try to get things in without paying duty and they think it's rather smart to get the best of Uncle Sam. Many who are honorable in every other way seem to lose that feeling when it comes to smuggling.

"Of course it's wrong, as everything is wrong that breaks the law, whether we think the law is just or not. But I'm just saying this to explain why father was willing to trust himself and his gold on board a smuggler."

The boys bent forward eagerly.

"For that's what he did," continued Ross. "There was a schooner, named the _Ranger_, that often stopped at the river town near where we lived. The captain was a man, Ramsay by name, whom father knew and trusted. His boat did a good deal of legitimate trading, but sandwiched in with that was quite a lot of smuggling off and on. Still, aside from that, Captain Ramsay had the reputation of being a strictly honest man, and he and father had been on friendly terms for years.

"When the time came, father went on board with all his baggage, including the chest of gold. Of course he did not take any one in the secret of what the chest contained. He figured on getting to Boston in a week or ten days.

"But the second day out, a tackle block fell from the foremast and laid Captain Ramsay dead on the deck. He was buried at sea and the first mate took command of the schooner. And it was right here that the trouble began.

"This first mate was a Portuguese, a good sailor, but aside from that I guess he was as big a villain as ever went unhung. There were five others in the crew, and they didn't seem to be much better than the mate. Captain Ramsay had been a rough captain and had been able to hold the men down, but as soon as he had gone things began to happen."

There was a pause for a moment while the boys held their breath waiting for the story to go on.

"And," resumed Ross, impressively, "I'd give my right hand to know just what those things were."

His hearers sat for a moment stunned and bewildered by this sudden ending.

"What!" gasped Teddy. "Do you mean that you don't know what happened?"

"No," was the reply. "I don't _know_. From what I've been able to learn I can make a pretty good guess. All I _know_ is that my father was picked up a week later in an open boat, wounded and starving and delirious."

A gasp of wonder and pity ran around the little circle.

"From a letter found in his pocket they learned who he was, and after he had partially recovered they sent him home to us," Ross went on. "But from then to the day of his death, which took place a year later, he was insane."

"The scoundrels!" muttered Fred, clenching his fists in indignation.

"We tried to get at the facts by piecing together what he said when he was quieter than usual," Ross continued. "Again and again, he would speak of 'the lighthouse' and 'Bartanet Shoals.' Then he would imagine himself in a fight with the mate. Many times he spoke of 'burying the box.'

"All these of course were slight things to go on, but by putting them all together and looking at them from every side, we figured out something like this:

"The mate probably had his suspicions aroused by the weight of the box that held the gold. Father must have come upon him when he was trying to open it, and there was a fight in which the rest of the crew joined.

They were probably somewhere near Bartanet Shoals when this happened, and they put in at some quiet place along here to think over what they'd better do. They finally decided to bury the box and leave it there until the matter should have blown over and been forgotten. The men probably intended to put father out of the way, and, after the search for him had been given up, to come back and get the box. Father either tried to escape in the open boat, or the crew, not quite willing to kill him in cold blood, set him adrift, knowing that in his wounded condition it would probably amount to the same thing."

"Didn't the _Ranger_ ever turn up?" asked Fred.

"Not at any of the home towns," answered Ross. "But some months later it was found tied up to a wharf near Halifax. It was from the log they found on board that they learned of Captain Ramsay's death. The crew were traced, and it was found that they had s.h.i.+pped on a brig that was bound for the Pacific. She went down in a storm off Cape Horn, and every soul on board was lost."

"Then everybody who was actually concerned in the matter is probably dead," mused Lester.