‘That is so.’
Stirk gave Kydd an almost imperceptible nod.
‘Very well. Shall we now see the apparatus?’
‘Certainly. This way, if you please.’
The diving engine was in a substantial outhouse, with piles of junk, rope and fittings. It was enormous and encrusted with the dust of ages.
Kydd moved across to take a closer look. Propped up against the wall, like a long straight-tapered barrel, with strange elephant trunk appendages, forged iron bands and two opaque glass eyes, it was mainly of wooden construction, like a ship’s cask, but inspection revealed the timber had shrunk and twisted, with gaping fissures everywhere. The trunks appeared to be arm extensions and were made of leather, but they were withered and hard. If this device had ever seen sunken treasure, it would never do so again. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Meares, but this contrivance is too far decayed for us to risk using it. It will not meet our purpose.’
The man smiled indulgently. ‘Of course it is, considering its age. Yet you will have no doubt noticed its construction is intended to be maintained by those unskilled in the diving arts. Even your ordinary cooper might be relied upon to restore it – after all, he labours to make a cask hold water in without seepage, who better placed to achieve the converse?’
‘And you will be saying a glover or some such artisan can be trusted with this leather?’
Meares contented himself with another smile.
‘Then is this apparatus complete? That is, are all the requisites for its operation in place, sir?’
‘You may satisfy yourself, Mr Paine.’ Meares went to a chest, opened it and gestured that Kydd inspect the contents.
There was a mass of equipment: pincers, claw dogs, sieves, bellows – and a small canvas packet.
‘Take it – look inside.’
Kydd flicked through a collection of dog-eared papers; lists, diagrams, numbered instructions, accounts slips.
‘There you will find guidance and directions for Wrackman’s crew.’
The chest also yielded muster lists of equipment and a check-list of operations.
‘I see. Then it would appear we have a possible means to go forward. Now you-’
‘Mr Paine. You’ve now satisfied yourself of the apparatus. I would think it fair, sir, for you to satisfy me with your prospects.’
‘Laddie,’ Kydd ordered.
McFadden fumbled in his pocket for the coin.
‘An Armada gold doubloon,’ Kydd said. ‘An earnest of what will follow.’
Meares took it with reverence, holding it up to the light as if to catch its full refulgence. ‘And this-’
‘Yes. We’ve located the wreck and are ready to recover same. Do we have an arrangement, sir?’
The man’s eyes were agleam. ‘Ah, there’s much to discuss. Perhaps you and I …?’
McFadden began to protest but Stirk intervened, deftly retrieved the gold coin, then said, ‘Go wi’ him, Mr Paine. Settle it.’
They sat together in a small office, the elderly clerk instructed to take himself elsewhere.
Kydd opened: ‘My principals will be happy to allow me to represent their interests but I have no function or shares in this venture beyond that of advising.’
‘I quite understand. Then shall we to business?’
It didn’t take long. The diving engine would be provided by Meares, the boats and wreck location by the other shareholders. Undoubtedly there would be costs, these to be borne equally in proportion to claims on the treasure.
‘Shall we review our outgoings?’ Kydd suggested. He was not going to leave his friends to continue alone.
The list grew. First there was outlay for refurbishing the engine. A cooper for five days – at double rates to buy his silence. A glover for three on the same conditions. A blacksmith to contribute skills as needed at a goodly fee. An allowance for materials, the extent of which to be determined.
It was further agreed that proceedings be kept in the strictest confidence and operations would be in the presence of all parties.
It was usual to seek Grant of Wreck to gain sole licence to raise valuables from a particular site. This was to keep rival speculators at a distance but would have the effect of alerting the authorities to their activity, not entirely desirable. Meares fell in with Kydd’s suggestion that it was quite within reason that such formalities be kept until there was tangible return from the wreck, at which point the whole matter could be reviewed. After all, why trouble the Receiver if nothing was there?
They joined the others.
‘So, gentlemen, I give you Mr Jacob Meares, desirous to be a shareholder in the Dunlochry Treasure Company.’
Agreement was reached within a very short time.
Following receipt by Mr Meares of the subscribed capital of the others he would add his own, undertaking then to bring the diving engine to a state of full readiness.
On his announcement, the device, with the said gentleman, would be taken aboard Maid of Lorne and the location would then be revealed.
With every expression of hope for a fortunate outcome, hands were shaken and the little band returned to Dunlochry.
Chapter 16
Stirk waited until they were alone in the kitchen. ‘Connie, m’ dear.’
‘Aye? If it’s more o’ them bannocks ye’re wanting-’
‘No, lass. It’s a-ways deeper’n that. I want t’ talk wi’ ye.’
She picked up on his tense mood and sat beside him at the table. ‘Tell me, Toby, what’s on your mind, then?’
‘It’s like this …’
He told her. The gold doubloon, the visit to the wreck, their distinguished guest’s opinion of its lying about the seabed with the fishes. ‘And t’ think under me as I swam was a pile o’ gold ready f ’r the picking – it was enough t’ choke me, I swear!’
Her eyes widened and she clasped her hands in sudden realisation. ‘Toby – d’ye know what I think it is? You’ve gone an’ found the Tobermory galleon, that’s what! They’s been searchin’ for it these hundreds o’ years, the Duke o’ Argyll an’ all – it’s filled wi’ gold an’ silver beyond all counting. Toby, if you …’ She tailed off at the enormity of it all. ‘What’ll you do now, love?’
He laid it out for her: a miraculous diving engine that had been used to raise treasure before. A partner wanting a half-share but making it all possible. Their big chance! ‘So, sis, if we c’n raise a purse that’ll see ’em satisfied they has their expenses, why, we c’n start diggin’ it out an’ no waitin’.’
‘How much does they want?’
It seemed so very reasonable when Kydd had neatly listed the outgoings, but spelled out in pounds, shillings and pennies it was a formidable sum.
‘That’s more’n McGillie earns in a year – two,’ she said faintly.
‘I knows it,’ Stirk said soberly. ‘I’ve some prize-money comin’ but I’ll never see ’un for a dog’s age yet. Laddie’s got nothin’ without he sells his boat.’
‘Your nice Mr Paine. Will he …?’
Stirk shook his head. ‘He can’t be seen gettin’ involved, more’n it’s worth f ’r him.’
She sighed, then said, with female practicality, ‘I’ll speak t’ McGillie when he comes home. He’ll know the right of it.’
As the summer dusk settled, the figure of the gamekeeper appeared at the door. ‘I’m home, lass,’ he boomed.
She hurried up and fussed at his coat. ‘Toby’s got something he has t’ discuss wi’ you,’ she said firmly.
‘Oh, aye? I’ll tie up yon dogs an’ be with him directly.’
Stirk exchanged significant glances with his sister, nodding to where Widow McGillie sat in her rocking chair, sewing, her beady eyes missing nothing.
‘Would ye excuse us, Ma? The men have some talkin’ to do.’
It was tough going. The hard-bitten man of the land was having no truck with tales of buried treasure and declared surprise at one of Stirk’s years being taken in by such old sailors’ yarns.
Only after it was explained that a respectable Tobermory merchant was putting his own money into it and, should the McGillies not be found wanting, he would be enabled to take a significant share did he see his way clear to discussing it further.
The door burst open. ‘Be damned to ye for a puckle-headed loon, lad!’ his old mother threw at him in shrill fury. ‘Ye has a chance t’ fill y’r boots wi’ Spanish gold from the Tobermory galleon. Are ye a-feart to open y’r purse for that?’