With head bent down I slowly made my way home. There was a gloomy party there that day. Of course no one blamed me for the misfortune but myself. That was, however, no consolation. I was so fully convinced that the truculent Senlis and his gang would seize on the treasure of the galleon, that I already counted it almost as good as lost. Still I did not entirely despair, and did not intend to give up all effort until the treasure was actually gone. But what could we do? Mr. Millward thought we could do absolutely nothing.
“Don’t grieve over spilt milk, my boy,” said he, kindly, in an effort to soothe my terrible disappointment. “There are far greater sorrows in this world than the mere loss of money.”
Alice, too, was full of sympathy, and put her hand on my shoulder without a word. But I could read well enough in her face what she would say.
No one could suggest any plan of action except that now it might perhaps be quite as well for us to embark and leave the island and the dangerous neighborhood of the captain and his crew. But I was not willing to do this until I knew with definiteness what were his intentions. We finally concluded that as soon as it was dark we would get the boats ready and go out to sea, where we could watch proceedings in safety.
About four o’clock in the afternoon the captain came sauntering down the beach. I knew quite well that he had seen the galleon, or at least the inference that the Chinaman had reported it to him was almost certain. But though he crossed the creek and came to the shed where we were all seated and talked with us a while, he said not a word concerning the subject that was uppermost in all our minds. Could it be possible the Chinaman had not told him? No; I could dismiss that idea from my mind; it was too improbable. He knew of the wreck, and moreover he knew that I knew of it. His present demeanor was simply the outcome of his naturally secretive disposition. But there was one thing he did not know, and I did not intend to let him know it. And that was the fact that we were aware he knew of the galleon. So I said nothing that would lead him to suspect that I had been watching his spy; nor did the others.
The man’s deceitful nature, which I well comprehended by this time, coupled with the offensive air of gallantry which he exhibited toward Alice Millward, together with the fact that I felt sure he intended to overhaul the galleon and seize upon the fruits of our tremendous labor, made me feel as though I should like to have it out with him there and then. And the effort I was obliged to make to control my feelings did not add to my comfort while he stayed. I was very glad, as we all were, when he left.