"Damned if it ain't the old hooker!"

"She got what was coming to her all right, mates."

"Maybe that ain't hell, bullies! And she's lousy with treasure!"

"Come here, Sam! That's the last of the _Namur_."

CHAPTER XXXII

THE LAST OF THE NAMUR

Even from where we were, looking across that stretch of water, yet
obscured by floating patches of mist, the vessel was plainly a total
wreck, rapidly pounding to death on a sharp ledge of rock. Both masts
were down, and, lifted as the bow was, it was easy to perceive the
deck was in splinters, where falling spars and topmasts had crashed
their way through. She must have struck the ledge at good speed, and
with all sail set, for the canvas was overside, with much of the
top-hamper, a horrible mess, tossed about in the breakers, broken ends
of spars viciously pounding against the ship's side. The bows had
caught, seemingly jammed in between rocks, the stern sunk deep, with
cabin port holes barely above reach of the waves. It seemed probable
that any minute the whole helpless mass might slide backward into the
water, and be swept away. Not a living thing appeared on board, and,
as the fog slowly drifted away, my eyes could discern no sign of any
boat, no evidence of the crew, along the wide sweep of water. Little,
by little, as the vista widened, and we still remained, watching the
miserable wreck as though fascinated, we were able to distinguish the
dark line of coast to the westward, and to determine that the
unfortunate _Namur_ had struck at the extremity of a headland, whose
rocky front had pushed its way far out to sea. A voice not far
distant aroused me.

"What was it you said Jack 'bout treasure on the old hooker? Hell, if
it's there, why not get it afore it's too late?"

"It's thar, all right, Ole," and I knew the speaker to be Haines.
"Ain't it, Mr. Carlyle?"

"Yes, lads, there must be money on board, unless those fellows took it
with them in the boats. I know of fifty thousand pounds stolen in
Virginia, and no doubt there is more than that."

"Perhaps they took the swag along with 'em, sir."

"That wouldn't be the way I'd figure it," broke in Watkins. "That
nigger says the boat what attacked us was the last one ter git away,
an' thar wa'n't no chest in her." If Manuel didn't stay aboard long
'nough ter git his fingers outer thet gold, none ov the others did.
They wus so damned anxious to save their lives, they never thought ov
nuthin' else, sir."