Events happened very rapidly with Francis Morgan[1], inheritor of many millions, that late spring morning.
“Parker[2],” he said to the valet. “Parker, I’m going fishing.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I ordered some rods. Please bring them. I need two weeks in the woods. Do you remember Sir Henry[3]? the old Sir Henry, the buccaneer?”
“Yes, sir; I’ve read of him, sir.”
Parker paused in the doorway.
“Just an old pirate, you know.”
“Oh, no, sir,” Parker protested. “He was Governor of Jamaica[4]. He was a respectable man.”
“Hm, we Morgans never found his treasure.”
A telephone buzzed.
“One moment, sir,” said Parker. “It’s Mr. Bascom[5], sir.”
Francis went to the phone.
“Hello, yes, this is I, Morgan. What is it?… To sell? Never! Of course. Sure… yes. Good-bye.”
While Francis returned delightedly to his arm-chair, Thomas Regan[6] was in his office. Suddenly a clerk told him about a foreign visitor. Regan listened, glanced at the card, and said:
“Tell this Senor Alvarez Torres[7] that I can’t see him.”
Five minutes later the clerk was back, this time with a message. Regan read it:
“Dear Mr. Regan,
“Honoured Sir:
“I have the honour to inform you that I know the location of the treasure that Sir Henry Morgan buried.
Alvarez Torres.”
Regan shook his head.
“Let him in![8] At once.”
Senor Alvarez Torres’ English was perfect.
“By great effort, and years of research, I have finally found the clue to the gold of Sir Henry Morgan,” he began. “Of course it’s on the Mosquito Coast[9]. The nearest town is Bocas del Toro[10]. I was born there, and I know the neighbourhood. A small schooner is cheap, very cheap; but the reward is the treasure!”
Senor Torres paused.
“You need the money,” the stock operator said brutally, and Senor Torres bowed.
Regan wrote a check, in the name of Alvarez Torres, and when that gentleman glanced at it he read the figures of a thousand dollars.
“Now listen to me,” said Regan. “I don’t believe your story. But I have a young friend, and he is too tired to live in a big town, you understand?”
Senor Alvarez Torres bowed.
“Now, for his health, as well as his wealth, the best thing for him is a trip after treasure, adventure, exercise, and… you understand, I am sure.”
Again Alvarez Torres bowed.
“You need the money,” Regan continued. “Try to interest him. That money if for your effort. If he departs after old Morgan’s gold, you will get two thousand more. If he remains away three months, two thousand more; six months – five thousand. Oh, believe me, I knew his father. We were comrades, partners, almost brothers. I can sacrifice any sum to his son. What do you say? Begin! Well?”
Senor Alvarez Torres folded and unfolded the check.
“I… I accept,” he stammered. “I… I… What to say?… I am yours. Mr. Regan, it is true. I need the money. You are so generous, and I’ll do my best…”
Senor Torres went away. In some minutes Francis Morgan came in.
“I need your advice,” he said. “You were a friend of my father. You and he were partners, I understand. He always told me to trust your judgment. And, well, here I am. What’s up with Tampico Petroleum[11]?”
“Tampico Petroleum?” Regan asked.
“Exactly,” Francis answered. “I worry. Somebody is trying to get control, right?”
Regan shook his head.
“What do you say?” he asked.
“Of course it’s good,” was Francis’ response. “If it drops, I’ll buy.”
“Don’t you worry about that, my boy. Just go fishing and forget it.” Regan paused, picked up Alvarez Torres’ card. “Look, who’s just been here – Senor Alvarez Torres.”
Regan retained the card a moment.
“Look, your father always was always proud of that old family pirate.”
“I know about his treasure. And what?”
Francis looked up questioningly.
“Senor Torres,” Regan explained, “gave me the map. Here is the treasure. It is buried. Of course, I don’t believe him. But… You know, Sir Henry died practically a poor man, and they never found his treasure. Oh, I’m too old for that!”
“I’d like to meet this Alvarez Torres,” the young man responded. “Do you know where I can find him?”
The next morning the meeting took place in Regan’s office. They were examining modern maps and ancient charts, and old documents. Finally, Francis announced his next fishing: on the Bull Island[12], where – as Torres averred – the treasure lay.
“I’ll catch the train for New Orleans,” Francis said. “And then I’ll go to Colon[13]!”
“But don’t charter a schooner[14] at Colon,” Torres advised. “It’s better in Belen[15].”
“I always wanted to see the country!” Francis said. “And you, Senor Torres?”
“I’ll join you later, Mr. Morgan.” Alvarez Torres said. “I have some little business here.”
“And, before you go,” Regan noticed, “it’s reasonable to arrange with Senor Torres some division of the treasure… if you ever find it.”
“What’s that?” Francis asked.
“Equal division, fifty-fifty,” Regan answered.
“Fine!” Francis cried. “Good-bye, Regan. Good-bye, Senor Torres, until we meet somewhere around Bocas del Toro, or in on the Bull!”
