It was an islet, and nothing but an islet, which no State would have claimed as a possession, for it would not have been worth while. Speaking generally, it was a plateau measuring some six hundred yards round an irregular oval, about three hundred yards in length, and from a hundred and twenty to a hundred and sixty wide. It was not an agglomeration of rocks, heaped up in disorder one on the other in seeming defiance of the laws of equilibrium, but was evidently caused by a quiet and slow uprising of the earth’s crust. The edges were not cut up into creeks or indentations. It did not resemble one of those shells in which capricious Nature revels in a thousand fancies, but rather had the regularity of the upper valve of an oyster or the carapace of a turtle. This carapace rose towards the centre in such a way that its highest point was a hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea.
Were there any trees on its surface? Not one. Any traces of vegetation? None. Any vestiges of exploration? Nowhere. The islet then had never been inhabited—there was no doubt about that—and it could not be. Considering that its bearings had never been noted, and its utter barrenness, his Excellency could not have wished for a better as a secret deposit for the treasure he was about to confide to the interior of the earth.
“It would seem as though Nature had made it expressly,” said Captain Zo.
Slowly the brigantine approached it, gradually reducing sail as she did so. When she was within a cable’s length of the shore, the order was given to let go the anchor. The anchor dropped from the cathead, and dragging the chain after it through the hawse-hole, struck ground at twenty-eight fathoms.
The slope of the shore was thus very sudden, on this side at all events. A ship could come close up without risk of grounding, although it would be safer for her to remain at a distance.
As the brigantine swung to her anchor, the boatswain furled the last sail, and Captain Zo mounted the poop.
“Shall I man the large boat, your Excellency?”
“No, the yawl. I would rather we two went alone.”
A minute afterwards the captain, with two light oars in his hands, was seated in the bow of the yawl, the Pasha being in the stern. In a few moments the boat had reached the shore, where landing was easy. The grapnel was firmly fixed in a crack of the rock, and his Excellency took possession of the islet.
No flag was run up; no gun was fired.
It was not a State taking possession of it, but an individual, who landed with the intention of leaving it in a few hours.
Kamylk and Captain Zo remarked, to begin with, that the flanks of the island had no sandy base to rest on, but rose direct from the sea at an inclination of from fifty to sixty degrees. Hence, doubtless, its formation was due to an elevation of the bed of the sea.
They commenced their explorations by going round the islet, walking over a sort of crystallized quartz, bare of all footprints. Nowhere did the shore appear to be worn by the action of the waves. On the dry and crystallized surface the only liquid was water, left in crevices and depressions here and there by the last rains. There was not a trace of vegetation, not even a lichen or a marine moss, or any of those hardy plants sturdy enough to thrive among the rocks, where the wind may have scattered their germs. There were no mollusks, either living or dead, an anomaly truly inexplicable. Here and there were a few traces of birds, which could be accounted for by the presence of a few gulls, the sole representatives of animal life in its vicinity.
When the circuit of the islet was completed, Kamylk and the captain walked towards the rounded elevation in the centre. Nowhere was there a trace of a recent visitor otherwise; everywhere there was the same crystalline freedom from spot or stain.
When his Excellency and the captain reached the centre of the carapace they were about a hundred and fifty feet above the sea. Sitting down, they carefully looked round the horizon.
Over the vast surface of waves reflecting the solar rays, there was no sign of land. The islet thus belonged to no group of cyclades, no archipelago, however small. Captain Zo, telescope in hand, searched in vain for a sail in sight. The sea was deserted, and the brigantine ran no risk of being seen during the few hours she would remain at her moorings.
“You are certain of our position on this 9th of September?” asked the Pasha.
“I am certain, your Excellency, and to leave no doubt I will take the position again.”
“That is important. But how do you account for this islet not appearing on the chart?”
“Because in my opinion it is of very recent formation. In any case it ought to be all the better for you that it is not on the chart, and that we are sure of finding it when you wish to return—”
“Yes; when these troublous times are over. What does it matter if these millions remain buried among these rocks for long, long years. Will they not be safer here than in my house at Aleppo? It is not here that the Viceroy or his son Ibrahim, or that rascally Mourad, would come to steal them! Leave this fortune to Mourad? I would rather leave it at the bottom of the sea!”
“That would be a pity,” said Captain Zo; “the sea never gives back what you entrust to its depths. It is lucky that we found this islet. It at least will guard your riches, and faithfully restore them.”
“Come,” said Kamylk Pasha, rising, “we must be quick at what we are about; and it would be better if our ship were not seen.”
“I am ready.”
“No one on board knows where we are?”
“No one, your Excellency.”
“Not even in what sea of the Old or New World! We have been sailing the ocean for fifteen months, and in fifteen months a ship can travel great distances between the continents without her whereabouts being known.”
The Pasha and the captain returned to the yawl.
As they embarked the captain said—“When we have finished our work here, is it the intention of your Excellency to steer straight for Syria?”
“That is not my intention. Before I return to Aleppo, I will wait until the soldiers of Ibrahim have evacuated the province, and the country recovered its tranquillity under Mahmoud.”
“You do not think that it will ever form part of the possessions of the Viceroy?”
“No! by the Prophet, no!” exclaimed Kamylk, firing up at the suggestion. “For a period, of which I hope to see the end, Syria may possibly be annexed to the domains of Mehemet Ali, for the ways of Allah are inscrutable. But that it should not return eventually to the rule of the Sultan, Allah would never permit!”
“Where is your Excellency going to reside when you leave these seas?”
“Nowhere. When my riches are safe among the rocks of this island, there they will remain. We will continue to cruise about the world as we have done during the many years we have been together.”
“As you please.”
And a few minutes afterwards the Pasha and his companion had returned on board.
About nine o’clock the captain took a first observation of the sun with a view of obtaining his longitude, that is to say the time of the place, an observation which would be completed at noon when the sun passed the meridian, and when he would obtain his latitude. He brought out his sextant and took the altitude, and, as he had promised the Pasha, he fixed the position as accurately as possible.
Meanwhile he had given orders for the boat to be prepared. His men had to take with them the three casks from the lazarette, as well as the tools, picks and shovels, and the cement necessary for the burial of the treasure.
Before ten o’clock everything was ready. Six sailors under the boatswain’s orders occupied the boat. They had no suspicions of what the casks contained, nor why they were going to bury them. It was none of their business, and they did