The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt 2

The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt 2

When the boys entered the professor’s study he motioned them to chairs

and asked them a few questions about their school life and studies. All

the time he held the letter in his hand, and when he had finished

talking about their school he took the lead in the conversation.

 

“I guess you boys wonder what is so interesting in this letter that I

hardly noticed a ball when it broke through my window,” he began. “Well,

I remember how interested you boys were in history while in my classes,

and I’m glad you came along when you did. This letter is from my son

Ned, who lives in Lower California, and it contains one of the most

fascinating stories I ever came across!”

 

Knowing as they did the professor’s deep interest in historic and

scientific studies and discoveries the boys found themselves interested

at once. The teacher went on, after a glance at the letter, “Ned owns a

small farm or homestead in Lower California near the mines at San

Antonio and Triunfo, where he tests the ores and carries on general

scientific studies. He tells me that the ores are refractory and not

easy to test, but he enjoys the work and is devoting his whole life to

it. I don’t think he is quite as much interested in historic things as I

am, but knowing how eager I am for relics and information of the past,

he has sent me this remarkable piece of news.

 

“Some time ago, a steam trawler, while fishing in 130 fathoms of water,

hauled up a piece of wreckage in its net. Upon examination it appeared

to be the bulwark of an ancient Spanish galleon, with parts of the

rigging attached. On the sides, plainly distinguishable, were designs in

hand-sewn leather. Some of those big, lumbering ships were decorated

quite extensively, you know, and this one was distinguished by its

hand-sewn leather covering. It was evident that somewhere in the

neighborhood a Spanish galleon had gone to the bottom, and it is always

a safe conclusion that where there is galleon there is also a treasure.

Those ships carried gold, silver and jewels from Old Mexico and Peru to

Spain, and this particular ship may have been going home after a trip up

the coast of California. That was the type of ship that the brave

English seamen of Queen Elizabeth’s time whipped so soundly at the time

of the Spanish Armada, and there were hundreds of them in service along

the shores of the Americas and the Islands.

 

“The spot was marked in the hope that treasure would be discovered, on

the presumption that it was a treasure ship, and shortly afterward

active operations were started by a California diving company. But

although they searched the shore under water in minute detail they found

nothing. The mystery is not that they didn’t find any treasure, but that

they didn’t find any more of the ship. You might think that perhaps that

particular piece had been washed there from some point further out, and

it is possible, but the piece, when netted, had been buried in the mud,

and it looks as though it had been there for centuries, though ships

haven’t a habit of sinking in sections, one part at one place and

another part in a different place. However, they didn’t find a thing,

and at last the whole undertaking was given up.”

 

“That is too bad,” said Jim, who was deeply absorbed in the story. “So

it was a false hope from the first.”

 

“How long ago was that?” asked Don.

 

“That was a little over a year ago,” answered the professor. “And that

leads me to the second part of my story. Ned had given up all interest

in it even before the diving and salvage company had, and he thought no

more about it. The piece of wreckage is a treasure in itself and was

sent up to San Francisco, where it was subsequently placed in a museum.

Realizing that I would be interested in it all he first wrote to me at

the time it happened, and I read it and wrote for news, but as the thing

died down I forgot it, too. I have planned to run out to San Francisco

sometime and see the part myself, and I intend doing so soon.

 

“Ned told me at the time that there had been some slight changes in the

coast line during the last few centuries. A number of creeks that

formerly ran into the ocean have closed up and disappeared, some of them

filled with shifting sand and soil. I don’t know if you were ever aware

of the fact or not, but although Lower California has a dry climate and

is mostly barren, there are spots where it is tropical and jungle plants

and trees grow there in luxurious profusion. Although they have almost

no rain, they do have violent storms, and at such times are treated to

regular cloudbursts. At those periods the elements raise the old dickens

and it was during these spells that some creeks and small rivers closed

up.

 

“Maybe you wonder why I’m particular to tell you all this. I do so

because I believe it has a direct bearing on the most amazing part of

Ned’s letter. I believe it explains the disappearance of the Phantom

Galleon!”

 

“The Phantom Galleon!” cried Don, while Jim stirred in eager interest.

“What is that, Professor Scott?”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER II

THE STORY OF THE PHANTOM GALLEON

 

 

“Well,” answered the professor, slowly. “Up until a very short time Ned,

and others, thought that it was only a legend. He hadn’t been in the

country very long before he heard it, and he put it down as one of those

semi-historic tales that consist of half truth and half fancy. The tale

had been handed down for centuries and always by word of mouth, and this

is the story:

 

“On a certain evening, hundreds of years ago, a huge, lumbering Spanish

galleon, loaded with treasure, fled along the coast of Lower California,

pursued by three English barks. In the long run there was not a chance

that the gold ship would get away, for the light English barks were much

faster, and it was only a question of time before they hauled down on

her and boarded. The way they were situated was this: one ship was in

the rear of the Spaniard, one was coming up in front of it, and a third

was moving in from the open sea. It was a regular trap, you see, and

merely a matter of time.

 

“But fortunately—or unfortunately, I don’t know which—for the galleon,

one of those rare tropical storms came up at that moment when capture

seemed assured for the gold ship. There was a furious rush of the wind,

the sky grew black and lowering, and finally, in one great maelstrom of

confusion the three ships and the galleon were blotted out of sight. The

storm only lasted for some half hour, which is unusually long for some

of them, and when it lifted the galleon was nowhere to be seen. The

English barks had had all they could handle and had been so busy holding

their own against the elements that they hadn’t time to keep up the

pursuit, and their conclusion was that the Spaniard had gone to the

bottom of the sea. As it was built much higher and was much harder to

handle than the lighter ships, the conclusion was justified, and the

pursuers drew off and left the shore.

 

“As I told you, that had happened in the evening, just as dusk was

coming down over the shore and the sea, and the high decked galleon,

with its spread of strained canvas and yellow streamers, its lofty

rigging and its ornamental work, looked like some strange phantom as it

fled down the coast. I don’t know who saw it or how many saw it, but to

this day the story, half legend as it is, has persisted concerning the

phantom galleon. Some fantastic tales still linger about it appearing on

dusky nights and sailing swiftly along the shore, but they are idle

stories to which no one with intelligence pays any attention. Ned never

gave the whole thing much credit until a remarkable circumstance brought

it forcefully to his mind.

 

“Near his little ranch there is a large old estate which belongs to a

once noble family of mixed Spanish and Mexican blood, and although they

keep pretty much to themselves, out of a lofty sense of pride, they have

been rather friendly to Ned, in their stately and exacting way. There

was an old man who was head of the place, his daughter, and one or two

servants. Lately the old gentleman died, and Ned kindly helped out with

the funeral and the management of the ranch affairs until a permanent

overseer was brought over from Mexico, and in her gratitude the young

senorita allowed him to roam pretty much around the house. I suspect

from his letter that he has of late become rather more than friendly

with the young lady, but that doesn’t make much difference either way.

It seems that she had been left with quite a library, reading being an

important business in such a lonely place, and some of the volumes were

pretty precious, being hand written works of early settlers and priests,

who thus left interesting historic records. One of these books attracted

Ned’s attention strongly.

 

“It had been written by a priest in the year 1571, and it described the

Spanish treasure hunts, some of which were plain plundering expeditions,

and this particular book related them in detail. Ned wasn’t unusually

interested until he came across the part relating to a chase that the

galleon had had from three English ships. According to the author they

had loaded with something like 100,000 pesos and a fortune in gold and

silver bars, to say nothing of jewels, and had sailed for Upper

California. But near the shores of Lower California the galleon had been

sighted by an English bark, which had instantly given chase. The

galleon, which had a good start, fled, but its chances of escape

suddenly became less as another English ship appeared before it, and

another bore down on it from the open sea. It was growing dark, wrote

the priest, and there was some hope that it would slip away in the

darkness, but something more to the point stepped in when a tropical

storm wrapped the nearby world in temporary darkness. The _Don

Fernando_, that was the name of the galleon, slipped into a nearby creek

or small river and ran hard and fast aground, the lofty masts and spars

crashing down, a total ruin. The creek seems to have been far enough

back for the wreck to have escaped the notice of the English, for they

were not molested, and the crew, after assuring themselves that the

treasure was safe, tried to make their way inland for help.

 

“But somehow or other—the writer does not say how—they all perished, and

he alone escaped to Mexico, there to write down the story of the flight

of the galleon. He affirms positively in his journal that the treasure

was not touched, and he planned to raise enough men to go and get it.

Whether he did or not no one knows, but if he didn’t that treasure is

still somewhere in a creek, in the wreck of that galleon, perhaps buried

below the level of the sand which has shifted. Ned thinks that it is

nearby and that is why he has written to me.