Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 177: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

~ JOSH STEBBINS, TREASURE HUNTER. her so thet after shiftin’ her loose ballast aft, the leak in her bow was outa water an’ * easy calked. “While the crew was workin’ at it the commodore an’ me took a boat an’ sculled over to Rat Island; thet was about a half mile to leeward of our anchorage. “The commodore put a queer-lookin’ pole in the yawl, ez we pushed off, all paint- ed up with rings an’ figgers such ez I never. seen before. “<What ye got there, commodore?’ I asked him. ““< Tt’s a divining rod, Josh,’ he sez, ‘ an’ cost me five hundred iron men.’ ““¢ What’s it good fer? What ken it di- vine? It ain’t a talkin’ machine, is it?’ “<< Tt tells where there is water or other liquids, or the precious metals, such as gold and silver. It don’t talk, it merely points the place to dig.’ ““< Sand an’ salt water is about all we’re going ter find over thar, commodore, or I miss my guess,’ I told him. “‘ He sez, mighty solemn, ‘ I have a hunch that my ancestors that sailed the Spanish Main in search of glory and riches buried. some of the property they had no use for at the time on some of these beautiful isles of the tropical seas. In fact, I am sure of it, only I don’t know on what islands they are hidden. Some verses written by Cap- tain Kidd, my ancestor, who met his death at the violent end of a rope some years be- fore his untimely end, evidently refer to hidden wealth. Listen to. these words: ““* Fifteen men of ’em good and true; Every man Jack could ’a” sailed with Old Pew. There was chest on chest of Spanish gold, And a ton of plate in the middle hoid; And the cabin’s riot of loot untold, And there they lie that took the plum With sightless eyes, with lips struck dumb, But we'll share all by rule of thumb, Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.’ “© Sounds like the prospectus of a mining ‘company in Old Mexico,’ I sez.. ‘ All gold and silver an’ dead men; but that last verse sounds best to me—I’m kinda tired o’ drink- in’ your rye and bourbon since the sody water give out, an’ a bottle e’ rum would taste mighty good fer a change—let’s go.” An’ we went, jest ez soon ez we hit the 639 beach;; me with a pick an’ shovel, the com- modore: packin’ his divinin’ rod between both his hands so it could swing down, up, or sideways, the way the man thet sold it to him hed told him to handle it. “We pushed our way through the brush, walkin’ abreast, when, ez I was lookin’ at a flock o’ green parrots up in the coconut trees overhead, an’ wishin’ we’d run on to.a bunch o’ monkeys to throw us down some nuts, fer I was awful dry, an’ green coco- nuts make a fine drink like lemonade, all ter once the.rod twisted in the commodore’s hands so sudden, one end of it hit me in the jaw an’ the t’other p’inted down, pullin’ down his hands till it stuck in the ground. ““* Ureeky,’ sez the commodore. ‘ Josh, here’s where we find what we’re looking for. Here the treasures of the Indies are buried. Get to work with your pick and shovel,’ “1d dug down about two foot when the pick drove right through a skull. ‘ Heil’s bells,’ I hollered when I seen what it was. ‘Commodore, yer diyinin’ rod has fouled us with a boneyard!” ““* Keep on digging,’ he told me. ‘ That was the gardeen o’ the treasure; they al- ways buried two or three of their prisoners with the cache to take care of it.’ “ A little deeper I struck wood, an’ dug up a twenty-gallon keg full o’ somethin’ thet I was sure wasn’t water. ““<Hev you got a corkscrew?’ I axed him. ‘““* No, but there’s a gimlet in my jack- knife,’ he sez, pullin’ it out an’ startin’ a hole in the staves. A little jet o’ liquor squirted outa the hole he made. Ez soon ez I got a whiff of it, right away I put my mouth to the hole an’ took a long swig. “< Be careful, Josh, it may he poison,’ sez the commodore. ““¢ Poison be damned,’ I told him. ‘ This is old Jamaica rum thet’s been buried an’ agin’ in the wood since long before yer glori- ous ancestors met their end at the end of a rope. ‘Them ancestors o’ yours was good judges o’ hooch, I’ll say that much for ’em, though f’ve heerd thet their manners an’ morals was low grade. Take a swig an’ see fer yerself.’ “ He took a good drink, then he smiled an’ smacked his lips, then he sez, ‘ This ’d Gomichbooks ‘ ~— con