The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt by Capwell Wyckoff
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, MFR and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
THE MERCER BOYS ON A TREASURE HUNT
By CAPWELL WYCKOFF
Author of "The Mercer Boys at Woodcrest," "The Mercer Boys' Cruise in theLassie," "The Mercer Boys' Mystery Case," "The Mercer Boys on the Beach Patrol," "The Mercer Boys in Summer Camp."
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THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO. Cleveland, Ohio New York City
Copyright, MCMXXIX _by_ THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
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_Printed in the United States of America_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I The Professor's Letter 3 II The Story of the Phantom Galleon 13 III A Royal Invitation 20 IV The Professor is Attacked 29 V The Prowler in the Night 41 VI The Scene in the Moonlight 52 VII Sackett's Raid 63 VIII The Search is Begun 72 IX The Ruined Castle 81 X The Rope in the Dungeon 92 XI The Underground Passage 101 XII The Tolling of the Bell 109 XIII A Forced March 119 XIV History Repeats 129 XV The Mountain Sage 139 XVI The Landing Party 150 XVII The Escape 159 XVIII Treasure and Treachery 170 XIX An Old Friend Joins the Party 182 XX The Tar Barrel 191 XXI The Cairn 201 XXII The Den 211 XXIII The Dragon's Last Stroke 219 XXIV Ned Takes a New Overseer 237
THE MERCER BOYS ON A TREASURE HUNT
CHAPTER I THE PROFESSOR'S LETTER
"I'd like to have a crack at that ball," said Don Mercer, with a grin.
His brother Jim returned the grin as he said: "Let's go out on the fieldand ask the kids to toss us one. They won't mind giving us one swing atit." The two Mercer brothers were standing at the edge of a large vacantlot near the center of their home town one morning late in June. Theyhad been home from Woodcrest Military Institute for a week now on theirsummer vacation, and this particular day, having nothing more excitingto do, they had wandered around the town, coming at length to a familiarfield where they had often played baseball. A number of youngsters wereon the ground now, tossing and batting a discolored baseball, and thesight of them had caused the sandy haired, slightly freckled Don toexpress his wish.
The two boys walked across the field toward the boys and Don said:"Wonder how much further I can hit it now than I could when I playedhere as a kid?"
"Hard to tell," returned Jim. "But we certainly got quite a bit ofpractise this spring at Woodcrest."
The small boys looked at them as they drew nearer, but as the Mercerboys were well known the boys felt no alarm or resentment at theapproach of the larger lads. Don walked over to the boy who held the batand held out his hand.
"How about giving me one crack at the ball, Charlie?" he asked.
The boy smiled and extended the bat, a bit of embarrassment in his look."Sure, Don. Take a couple of them," he invited.
"I guess one will be enough," remarked Don, as he turned to face a boywho held the ball. "Put a good one over, Tommy, will you?"
The boy addressed as Tommy grinned boyishly and turned to the youngsterswho stood far afield, waiting for flies to be batted to them. "Get wayout, you fellows," he cried. "This fellow can hit 'em!"
The two fielders backed away and Tommy threw a fast ball to Don. Thelatter easily batted it out and one of the youngsters caught ittriumphantly. Don handed the bat to Jim, who in turn cracked the ballout along the ground.
"Just one more, fellows," begged Don, taking the bat from his brother'shand. When the ball had been turned over to young Tommy he wound his armup slowly and then pitched it with considerable force in Don'sdirection.
"Hit that!" he cried.
It was traveling on a straight line and Don swung the bat aroundsharply. There was a singing crack as the wood met the ball, and themuddy spheroid sailed in a mounting curve up into the air. It passedhigh above the fielder's head and made its way straight for the sidewindow of a small house that stood on the edge of the field.
"Oh, boy!" shouted Jim. "Right through the window!"
His statement was correct. With a disconcerting crash the ball smashedthe window to pieces.
Don dropped the bat and shoved his hands into his pocket. "Well, I'll bejiggered!" he exclaimed. "How is that for bad luck? Right throughProfessor Scott's window!"
"I hope the professor wasn't at home, and in that room," said Jim."Guess we had better go over and see about it."
"Right you are," nodded Don. "Thanks for the hits, kids. Come on, Jim."
Leaving the boys to gather and talk things over in awed tones the twoMercer brothers made their way across the field in the direction ofProfessor Scott's house. The gentleman mentioned had been their historyteacher while they were in grammar school, and they knew him quite well,so they had no great fears as to the outcome. No one had appeared at thewindow or at the doors, and Jim supposed that the professor was not athome.
"I guess not," Don returned, "or he would surely have appeared by now.But we'll go over and see, and if he isn't we'll leave a note and tellhim who did it, and offer to pay for it."
While the Mercer boys are making their way across the field somethingmay be said as to who they were. Both boys, fine, manly chaps, were thesons of a wealthy lumber man of Bridgewater, Maine. They had lived thelife of healthy young men whose interests were centered in worthwhilethings. Of late they had had some adventurous events in their lives,some of which were related in the first volume of this series, TheMercer Boys' Cruise in the Lassie, when they ran down a marine banditgang, and later when solving a baffling mystery at the military school,details of which were related in the second volume entitled The MercerBoys at Woodcrest. Together with their comrade, Terry Mackson, they hadfaced many perils and adventures, and now they were home to spend, asthey thought, a comparatively dull vacation. Just how deeply mistakenthey were in their thought will be found later.
They entered the front yard of Professor Scott's house and walked aroundto the side, where the broken window faced toward the empty lot. Thereappeared to be no one at home, but when they came opposite to the windowDon raised himself slightly on his toes and looked in. Then he droppeddown again and looked at Jim in astonishment.
"The professor is at home," he said, in a low tone. "He's sitting there,reading a letter!"
"Reading a letter?" asked Jim, amazed.
"Yes," answe
Jim raised himself and looked in the window. A tall man with bushy whitehair and a thick iron gray beard was seated at the desk in what appearedto be a study, busily engaged in reading a letter. Near him, almost athis feet, lay the boys' ball, and fragments of broken glass littered thefloor. The professor was apparently deeply absorbed in his letter.
"Well, what do you know about that!" exclaimed Jim, softly. "Doesn'teven seem to know that the window is broken! We always knew that he wassomewhat absent-minded, but I thought he was more responsible thanthat!"
Before Don could reply there was a stir in the room and the next minutethe professor came to the window and looked down at them. He still heldwhat appeared to be a lengthy letter in his hand, and he recognizedthem.
"Why, Don and Jim Mercer!" he cried, showing strong white teeth in anengaging smile. "I'm glad to see you home again. Did you come to seeme?"
"I came to apologize for breaking your window, and to offer to pay forit, Professor Scott," answered Don. "I was batting out the ball for someboys, and I hit it harder than I expected to. I hope it didn't startleyou very much?"
"I jumped a little bit," admitted the professor. "I did notice it!"
"Notice it!" exploded Jim. "I should think that you might have! Itcertainly made enough noise."
"It did make some. I felt that it was some of the boys playing ball andI was going to throw the ball back to them in a minute." He picked theball up and handed it to Don. "Throw it back, and then come inside,won't you?"
Don threw the ball back to the small boys, who were watching from thefield. "Are you sure we won't be breaking in on you, professor?" heasked.
"Not as much as you did a few minutes ago!" smiled the teacher. "Comearound through the back way."
When the boys entered the professor's study he motioned them to chairsand asked them a few questions about their school life and studies. Allthe time he held the letter in his hand, and when he had finishedtalking about their school he took the lead in the conversation.
"I guess you boys wonder what is so interesting in this letter that Ihardly 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 sonNed, who lives in Lower California, and it contains one of the mostfascinating stories I ever came across!"
Knowing as they did the professor's deep interest in historic andscientific studies and discoveries the boys found themselves interestedat once. The teacher went on, after a glance at the letter, "Ned owns asmall farm or homestead in Lower California near the mines at SanAntonio and Triunfo, where he tests the ores and carries on generalscientific studies. He tells me that the ores are refractory and noteasy to test, but he enjoys the work and is devoting his whole life toit. I don't think he is quite as much interested in historic things as Iam, 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 appearedto be the bulwark of an ancient Spanish galleon, with parts of therigging attached. On the sides, plainly distinguishable, were designs inhand-sewn leather. Some of those big, lumbering ships were decoratedquite extensively, you know, and this one was distinguished by itshand-sewn leather covering. It was evident that somewhere in theneighborhood a Spanish galleon had gone to the bottom, and it is alwaysa safe conclusion that where there is galleon there is also a treasure.Those ships carried gold, silver and jewels from Old Mexico and Peru toSpain, and this particular ship may have been going home after a trip upthe coast of California. That was the type of ship that the braveEnglish seamen of Queen Elizabeth's time whipped so soundly at the timeof the Spanish Armada, and there were hundreds of them in service alongthe shores of the Americas and the Islands.
"The spot was marked in the hope that treasure would be discovered, onthe presumption that it was a treasure ship, and shortly afterwardactive operations were started by a California diving company. Butalthough they searched the shore under water in minute detail they foundnothing. The mystery is not that they didn't find any treasure, but thatthey didn't find any more of the ship. You might think that perhaps thatparticular piece had been washed there from some point further out, andit 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 shipshaven't a habit of sinking in sections, one part at one place andanother 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. "Soit 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 thatleads me to the second part of my story. Ned had given up all interestin it even before the diving and salvage company had, and he thought nomore about it. The piece of wreckage is a treasure in itself and wassent 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 atthe time it happened, and I read it and wrote for news, but as the thingdied down I forgot it, too. I have planned to run out to San Franciscosometime 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 thecoast line during the last few centuries. A number of creeks thatformerly ran into the ocean have closed up and disappeared, some of themfilled with shifting sand and soil. I don't know if you were ever awareof the fact or not, but although Lower California has a dry climate andis mostly barren, there are spots where it is tropical and jungle plantsand trees grow there in luxurious profusion. Although they have almostno rain, they do have violent storms, and at such times are treated toregular cloudbursts. At those periods the elements raise the old dickensand it was during these spells that some creeks and small rivers closedup.
"Maybe you wonder why I'm particular to tell you all this. I do sobecause I believe it has a direct bearing on the most amazing part ofNed's letter. I believe it explains the disappearance of the PhantomGalleon!"
"The Phantom Galleon!" cried Don, while Jim stirred in eager interest."What is that, Professor Scott?"