Chapter III

THE TESTIMONY OF SIR JOHN DORINECOURTE, KNT.

The lawyer pushed back the drawers methodically, clanged to the safe door, and turned to me as I laboured toilsomely to decipher the faint scratchy handwriting. He held the two coins in his hand.

“I think,” he said slowly, “if you will permit me to read this document out to you, you will find it much easier to interpret if you desire to read it yourself a second time. I may say that I have conned it pretty thoroughly—it took time to master it, I confess—and faint and yellow as it is, I can decipher it at sight.”

I was only too glad to accept this benevolent offer, and we returned to the upper office again. Here I settled myself back in my chair, old Crum found and very deliberately donned his spectacles, unfolded and smoothed the sheets of dirty parchment, and then began to expound the writing as follows—

“I, John Dorinecourte, of the parish of Sellwood, in the county of
Somerset, here make oath and declare that the writing hereto, to which
I have set my hand and seal, is the very truth, so help me God.

“On the seventeenth day of August, in the year of our Lord one
thousand five hundred and seventy-eight, being in command of the ship
_Pride of Barnstaple_, and Captain Fowler of that port and Dom Pedro
da Suhares of Maceira being my fellow adventurers, we were in
mid-ocean, having passed the straits discovered by the Admiral
Magellan about two days, and were bearing north along the coasts of
the Indies. It happened then that one of the ship’s company at
mast-head hailed the deck, declaring a ship to approach; whereat we,
as was but reasonable, supposed the same to be some Spanish craft, and
beat to quarters, tricing up boarding nettings and getting powder on
deck. But as we approached nearer to the strange sail, we perceived it
to be a lateen and under no control of steering, for she yawed and
came about, and then of a sudden fell away upon the other tack, being
water-logged, and as it seemed deserted. So, calling to me the crew of
the pinnace, I set to board her, which, the day being calm, we
accomplished easily enough. Then were we horribly astonished to find
upon her decks no living man save one, and him at the point of death.
Six bodies there were, and one living soul, and the men were a fair
and noble company, but like to no other men whom I have seen. Now Da
Suhares, who hath been in Mexico—for being renegade he joined our
vessel at La Guayra after slaying the nephew of the governor in
duello—protested that in most respects these unfortunates resembled
the inhabitants of that ill-fated empire, now ravished and enslaved by
the devil-serving Spaniards. Which might be like enough, for the men
were covered with gold ornaments, and bedecked with the plumage of
bright tropic birds, such as is the custom of these tribes as I have
always understood. ’Twas evidently thirst that had brought them all to
their death, for no drop of sweet water could we find upon the craft,
and the tongue of the living man swelled forth from his lips, forcing
his jaws asunder, and his sweatless skin cracked as tense parchment.
We hasted therefore to bring our surgeon, and water with a little
wine. With difficulty he swallowed it and revived, though but
slightly. He gazed upon us as one affrighted, and shuddered, placing
his hand upon his breast as if holding there what he would fain
conceal. By which, I take it, he imagined us Spaniards, and expected
their deviltries, as well he might. But we spoke to him gently, and
tended him, taking sails to make him a couch to lie upon. Yet he
rallied but little, murmuring we knew not what, nor could Da Suhares
understand him, though he had knowledge of some few words of Mexican.

“Then the poor wretch raised his finger slowly and pointed towards us,
and afterward held up his open hand many times, which we took to mean
that he had been of a numerous company; making gesture also to our
ship which swung, heaved to, some quarter of a mile away, he swept his
hands abroad wildly towards the waste of waters, implying doubtless
that his was one of a great fleet of vessels.

“As in a flash came to me then the tale which was at that time a
by-word in the South Seas, of the great expedition of the natives
which had set sail from the coasts of Southern Mexico, the which was
witnessed by the Spanish forces advancing from the north, yet could in
no way be prevented of them. Mayax is the name of the land whence they
sailed, and the fiendish warfare of the Spaniards—ravishers of women
and slaughterers of babes as they be—had so prevailed by terror upon
these simple folk, that they had committed themselves to the deep to
escape their villainies, and had vanished, forty sail or more, no man
knew whither.

“The memory of this tale came back to me, as I say, vividly—and indeed
it had been the common talk of every port along the coasts of the
Southern Indies this two months past—and I pointed inquiringly to the
poor fellow as he languished and lay dying at my feet, and then swept
my finger northward as if determining that to be the direction whence
he came. Whereat he nodded, and then swung his hand southward again,
as if to say that now he sailed from the opposite direction. Then
reluctantly, as it were, he drew from his breast the scroll which I
have here set aside for your care and consideration, and I beheld for
the first time those symbols and the presentation of that wondrous
beast which are to me now as the alphabet for familiarity. As he gave
me the relic, he feebly took from his wrist the golden bracelet which
hung haggard thereon, and from his neck a string of gold pieces. The
armlet he gave to me, and the necklet to Da Suhares, as if in thanks
for our consideration which came thus too late. Then with the last
throb of strength left in his withered frame he raised himself from
the loins, and turning, faced the sun which sank cloud-free and ruddy
into the open main. Bowing himself towards its fading glories, he
spread abroad his hands with a single word and fell back and died,
unconquered remnant of a conquered race. And for a space we stared
silently at the dumb dead, wondering, half afraid, but full of pity
for his sad case, and of admiration for his uncomplaining end.

“Then did Da Suhares, Master Fowler, and I take counsel together upon
the matter to imagine what this might mean. For I called to their
memory the tale of the escaping Mayans, and Da Suhares vouched for the
truth of the same. For his own brother had been of the company of
conquistadores that had advanced south from Mexico, had seen the men
of the escaping fleet fare out into the deep, and had with others made
strenuous effort to overtake and capture them before they launched
forth to sea. For report went that they carried with them the ancient
treasures of that hapless race for centuries back. Adding that within
a month an expedition of adventurers had set forth to track them along
the southern coasts, but had returned empty and rewardless. And common
talk held that he who should find that company would also find wealth
beyond desire or conception. Here he doubted not that we had one of
them. For when we came to examine their barque there was great store
of gold upon her, not as treasure indeed for the most part, but put to
plain uses; for though the ornaments upon each corpse were of gold,
yet were the very baling vessels made of wood shod with golden bands
and held with strips of golden metal. Upon each man’s breast also was
a medal, or some such decoration, bearing upon it the similitude of
the same wondrous beast that appears upon the mystic scroll which you
have herewith. So we reasoned upon the matter, and in much thought the
solution thereof came to us.

“The expedition had sailed, and had come to some secure sanctuary as
they had desired. Now they sent back this small company to advise
their fellows left in bondage of the same, that they too might leave
their own land, over-run by the Spaniards, and come also to safety and
a sure dwelling-place. And the more we thought on this, the more the
truth of it came home to our minds.

“Now this I write in the glorious year of our Lord, one thousand five
hundred and eighty-eight, when the Lord hath, by the destruction of
the Spanish oppressor, so signally shown His favour to His children
who hope in Him. The news of which final deliverance hath come to us
long months after by chance of our meeting Captain Bostock of Bristol,
who saileth in the Guinea and West India Trade. Ten years have I and
my comrades, Da Suhares and Captain Fowler, sought wearily for this
people, and naught hath come to us in reward. Yet have we gotten to
ourselves sufficient of this world’s goods, in that we have taken more
than one of his Catholic Majesty’s treasure galleons, and three years
agone five of his pearling fleet which we fell upon when they were
storm-sundered from their fellows. Rich are we therefore in
possessions, but not yet in knowledge, and the madness of the quest
hath bitten into the souls of all of us. Not an island, not a bay, not
a single river’s mouth, have we missed for nigh two thousand weary
miles, but unavailingly. And now I draw into years, but I cannot rest
from it.

“Thus have I put down the matter plainly for my children to wot of,
and if I come not back to them, a charge do I lay upon them. Ten years
have I sought, and wrought, and toiled, sparing none of mine and least
of all myself, and it may well be that from this last adventure I come
not back. Ten years, therefore, do I lay upon you that come after me,
ten years each of you unto the tenth generation, and the blessing of
the Almighty be with you in your search. Do the matter diligently, but
in secret, lest it come to the ears of the Spanish folk, and they
triumph at the last. If ye find this people (and of a verity I know in
my soul that they still walk God’s earth) be to them a safeguard from
their enemies, using the might of England to bulwark them from their
foes, and get to your race and family great honour. So do, and my
blessing be upon you. Forego this quest, any one of you, and my curse
rest with you unceasingly. To which charge I put my hand and seal this
nineteenth day of December in the Annus Mirabilis, one thousand five
hundred and eighty-eight.

“JOHN DORINECOURTE, KNT.”

Crum placed the musty sheets of lettering on the table before him, solemnly took off his spectacles and wiped them, and then stared across quietly at me without a word, as if he would let this astonishing balderdash sink deeply into my all too shallow soul. There was a silence in the office, unbroken save by the buzzing of the blue-bottles at the windows and the distant roar of the Strand, filtered by intervening acres of brickwork. For my part I found no words to express my emotions. For really it came upon me as a shock to think what crack-brained enthusiasts our fathers were. Here was a sound, apparently intelligent, old British seaman, who had knocked about the world more than a little, worrying himself to set curses on the heads of his unborn descendants if they should fail to be just such fools as himself. He meets a half-dozen of forlorn savages in mid-ocean, by purely circumstantial evidence connects them with another band of niggers of whom he has only got word by hearsay, and proceeds to spend ten years of his life in tracking the latter to a lair which probably never existed. And not satisfied, as I say, with this astounding waste of time and energy, but he expects ten other fools to do the same. I stared, therefore, at the good Crum with these unvoiced musings extremely vivid in my brain, the while I thanked God softly below my breath for civilization and common sense.

It was the lawyer who broke the silence before it got strained.

“I may say, my lord,” he remarked, “that we have compared this writing with the signature of your ancestor’s marriage record in Sellwood church. It is identical, and there seems to be no doubt that it is authentic. I would remind you that it is beyond question that he spent many years in what was called ‘The Indies’ at that date—the Southern Seas of America, in point of fact—where he left the reputation of a valiant sailor—I’m afraid I must say buccaneer. But you must remember that times were different,” he added hastily, feeling that as a supporter of the law he must not seem to favour equivocal methods.

“That I believe is entirely true,” I conceded. “Tradition has it that he was one of the most energetic old pirates of his day. But may I ask how you propose to explain his document getting to Lisbon into the shop of the local rubbish dealer, or whatever he may have been? Why did it not come home to those for whom it was intended? My unfortunate forefathers for twelve generations have had these curses hanging over them, and have lived in comfortable ignorance.”

“I don’t think there is much difficulty in finding explanation,” he replied deliberately. “You know that Sir John _did_ perish out there, and to this day no news has been heard of his ultimate fate. My own suspicions are that Da Suhares—by the way, the people from whom your uncle purchased these documents bore the name of Soares—very possibly brought him treacherously to his death to possess the wealth that they had reaped in company. It is a very possible solution of the mystery, and we are not likely at this time of day to find a better one. But I must say, my lord, that to my mind the authenticity of the document is absolutely determined, and I have had experience of similar matters, I may say, for over half-a-century.”

“It’s plausible enough,” said I, shifting my ground, “but not good enough in my discretion to send a man fussing over to Yucatan for further explanations. Supposing the thing is absolutely correct, both in itself and in its deductions, what good is to be made of it at this time of day? Surely my uncle did not expect to find this unknown race after they have been lost three centuries or more? At any rate I shouldn’t have thought it of him. He showed no signs of brain softening ten years ago—or twelve, was it?—when I last interviewed him.”

He leant his elbows on the table, and drew the tips of his fingers together in a judicial attitude before he made answer in his intolerably cautious accent. Then he delivered himself of his opinions weightily.

“I think you are forgetting the other scroll—the one in symbol which was purchased with the one now before you. Recollect that if this could be interpreted, the mystery in all probability was one no longer. Your uncle was a man of leisure, fond of travel, and with the collecting mania. I am bound to say that under these circumstances I can understand his attitude. He knew that in Central America was the one man who could translate—if anybody could—this extremely recondite document. He also knew that in any case at his journey’s end he would find a vast field of interest in the lately discovered monuments of Yucatan. I must say that considering these things I should have been surprised if he had _not_ gone. If you think of the astounding possibilities opened up to him in discovery if he _did_ find a meaning to this scroll, and remember the enthusiastic nature of his temperament on matters of this kind, no room for wonder is left—at any rate not to my mind.”

I was fairly dumfounded. To think that a little cut-and-dried old solicitor could absolutely find, not only excuses for this absurd conduct, but a positive encouragement, was more than I could have believed possible. I gaped upon him.

“My dear Mr. Crum,” said I pityingly, “we are not in the sixteenth century. I can conceive a rampant adventurer like Sir Walter Raleigh, let us say—a man with the heart of a lion and the brains of a four-year-old child—setting out on some such wild-goose chase, but that a British peer, of good health and wealth, nigh threescore years of age——”

He interrupted. His spectacles were tilted rakishly on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes positively glinted behind them. He absolutely barked an exclamation at me.

“Yes, my lord; he was all you say. And I am not ashamed to add, that in his case, and with his opportunity, I should have done the same!”

“You!” I shouted—yelled, in fact, so taken aback was I. “You would have gone to this unspeakable climate, to seek out a forsaken French adventurer, to get a clue to a fudged-up cryptogram three musty centuries old! Mr. Crum, Mr. Crum, I should have as soon believed it of the Lord Chancellor.”

He had regained his _aplomb_ by now, and arranged his papers methodically in front of him before he ventured another word. Then he looked up again, his calm and judicial air entirely regained.

“I have no wish to pose as a sentimentalist, or to have it thought that the mere glamour of a mystery would carry me outside the realms of common sense. But I must say, my lord, with all due deference, that it seems to me that your uncle was simply guided by weight of evidence in what he did. From the facts connected with its finding and those since elicited, I should say there can be no doubt that the document before you was written by Sir John Dorinecourte, and that the matters detailed in it were true. The good knight’s supposition about the identity of the persons he encountered seems to me extremely reasonable. Your uncle had nothing in his life to check his desires for adventure and discovery. It would have been marvellous to me if he had let such an opportunity escape him. I can see too,” he went on with a smile, “that our temperaments differ, my lord, and that though you are the soldier and I the lawyer, our blood flows with an irregularity that is not in sympathy with our professions.”

It is not pleasant to be called a coward by your own lawyer, I confess, and I will own that I flew into a rage. I rose and took my hat.

“Thanks, Mr. Crum,” I said coldly, “it is more than probable that I am in every particular the absolute inferior of my late uncle. However, I fear I am using your valuable time for reflections and deductions which are not professional” (put him back in his place there, thinks I). “Is there any other business you wish to see me about this morning?”

The old chap flushed as he rose in his turn.

“I—I’m sure I trust I have not been offensive or indiscreet, my lord,” he stammered. “I only wished to prove that in my poor opinion your uncle was justified in the course he took. There is naturally much I should like to talk over with your lordship in connection with the estate, but it can wait till the will is proved. But perhaps you will not consider it necessary to employ me further.”

I saw I had hurt the worthy old chap badly, and could do no less than make immediate amends.

“Is thy servant a dog,” said I, holding out my hand, “that he should do this thing? No, my dear Mr. Crum, though I may be of a slow-blooded, not to say poltroon-like spirit, and you are still in the midst of the middle ages, if you will excuse my saying so, as far as the practicalities of life go, I’m sure we shall get on together as well as two thorough opposites always do, and I can’t say more than that.” Then I wrung his hand heartily, and fled, but for the life of me I couldn’t say for certain that I was right and he was wrong.