Part 3

I sketched and painted, selling several of my drawings to tourists who happened to see me at work, and, I suppose, admired my productions. Painting and wandering were my day amusements, but at night I had another source of relaxation and forgetfulness, and that was my flute. Upon this instrument I played fairly well, and it was my constant practice, whenever I was in a favourable place, after my evening meal, to bring forth my instrument and set the peasants dancing. They loved to hear the merry English airs, and became quite excited over the various dance tunes I played them. Minuets, jigs, strathspeys, reels, and hornpipes, all found favour with them, and their attempts to keep step with the more lively measures were sure to bring forth a deal of good-natured banter, mirth, and merriment. I always placed a tin cup at my feet, into which the dancers could drop a small coin if they felt so disposed, and this little collection I invariably gave to relieve any case of distress or poverty in the village. The poor peasants looked upon me as a very strange fellow, for they could not understand why it was I played for money and then gave it all away again, sometimes adding to the fund from my own somewhat slender purse.

Thus I wandered, week after week, as fancy led me, being sure of a good reception in each village I stopped at, for my fame as an artist-musician preceded me, and wherever I stayed for the night a crowd would invariably assemble outside my window, ready for me to step out flute in hand when I had finished my evening meal.

One day I found a peculiarly effective “bit” to transfer to my canvas. It was a lonely, mountainous district I was in, and I had tumbled across some finely-coloured rocks, picturesquely-disposed trees, a ruined chapel, and a turbulent, dashing, little waterfall.

I unstrapped my light-folding easel and set to work. It was a beautiful day, and I toiled on for several hours, singing and whistling quietly to keep myself in countenance and spirits, for I did not see a soul in this lonely spot.

At last I began to grow tired of my painting, and, as the shadows were beginning to lengthen, I packed up, and was about to foot it to the nearest village some four miles distant, when, mingled with the peculiar noises made by the sound of falling water, I fancied I could hear the moaning either of a human being or some animal, apparently in great distress or pain.

Listening, I caught the sound of what I took to be a faint groan!

I placed my kit upon the ground and looked around. At first I could see nothing; but after a moment’s search I discovered an old man sitting among the rocks, moaning and groaning at some serious injury he had apparently received.

Forgetting where I was, I addressed the old man in English.

“Hallo, old fellow, what’s amiss with you?”

He suddenly brought me to myself by replying in good English (although spoken with a foreign accent), and informing me that whilst sitting under a rocky cliff, contemplating the beautiful solitude, a large portion of stone had become detached, and rolling upon his foot, had severely crushed and cut it.

He was a man apparently seventy years of age, with an aquiline nose, piercing dark eyes, whose depth and brilliancy were enhanced by the whiteness of his over-hanging eyebrows, and a fine flowing white beard. All this I took in with an artist’s eye, and made a mental note not to lose an opportunity, by and by, of painting such a wonderfully fine head, if the old man would allow me.

I tore up my pocket-handkerchief, bound up the poor crushed foot, after bathing it with cool water from the river, and set my old friend, who was profuse in his thanks, upon his feet. I ought perhaps say foot, for he could not place his injured foot to the ground, and consequently was unable to walk. I was in a dilemma; the nearest village being a smart hour’s walk away, down in the valley.

“Cheer up, father,” said I; “allow me to try and carry you a little; possibly we may meet some one as we descend the road.”

“Nay, nay, my son,” the old man replied, “leave me. Perhaps after a rest I may be able to put my foot to the ground and proceed on my way.”

“No, that will never do, old gentleman; do you not know that wolves haunt these rocky heights, and would probably devour you in the night if you were left here by yourself and unarmed?”

“Ah, a sweet death, my son, but, alas! wolves cannot harm me.”

I looked at him in amazement as he uttered these words, but concluded the pain had made him somewhat delirious and wild in his talk. Then I took him in my strong young arms and carried him down the rugged path, halting every now and again to recover breath and rest my aching limbs; for, although my burden was but a bag of bones, still, on a rough mountain path, his weight began to tell before I had gone a mile, and I feared I should become exhausted long before we reached the village whither we were bound.

Again and again I lifted the old man and carried him onward, but each time I noticed the distance was less than the previous effort had covered, and after struggling on for a couple of miles, I was forced to give in for a long spell of rest. We were now down upon the plain, and the sun was fast approaching the horizon, when my eye suddenly lighted upon an ox feeding in a little green hollow a couple of hundred yards off. Knowing that in Southern Europe oxen, to a great extent, take the place of horses, I approached it; feeling sure that if it were an ox broken to work, I could give my old friend a comfortable ride to the village upon its ample back.

The animal stood and stared at me with its great soft eyes, and I stared back in return, but having no knowledge of the handling of cattle, I was at a loss to know what to do next. It was an intelligent-looking creature, so I coaxingly spoke to it in English, trusting that if its education had not been neglected it might understand that I meant it no harm. I took it by one of its horns, and, to my joy, the gentle beast was good enough to follow me; and as it did so I looked at its neck and could see where the yoke had galled it, by which I knew it was used for agricultural purposes.

We soon got to understand each other, and when I lifted the old man on its back, and supported him there, the ox moved off quietly to the village, which we reached just as the light had passed through that stage which poets and learned men call crepuscular.

We found a comfortable inn, and there I attended the old man for two or three days; but I must own my attention was not altogether due to philanthropic motives, as I spent much of each day in painting the grand old head of my patient. As I painted, so the old man talked; and I soon discovered he had a wonderful memory, especially for historic subjects: he appeared to have the history of Europe and Western Asia at his fingers’ ends. He would have made a splendid historian, for he could remember not only the chief events of the subject he happened to speak upon, but a great many of the minor details which go to make up an important episode in history.

His conversation thrilled me, and during some of his vivid recitals I ceased painting, and sat down to listen as one spellbound. He commenced with the struggles of the early Christians, graphically described the decline of the Roman power, and the rise of the Northern and Western nations.

Then he became eloquent upon the Conquest of England, knowing that I was a native of that land, and so minutely described the field of Hastings, that one might have imagined he had been an eyewitness. He spoke of the persons of William and Harold, the weapons and armour used, and could answer my queries so exactly, that I began to fear there was something decidedly uncanny about my model. From the Conquest he took me, in thought and word, right through the Crusades, and with sparkling eyes described the principal actors on the bloody fields of Holy Land, and when describing the prowess and fierceness in battle of our Richard Cœur de Lion, he became so excited in his recital, that, despite his injured foot, he rose from his couch in the centre of the room, and taking up a mahl-stick, struck and thrust in all directions, to explain to me how he of the lion’s heart bore himself.

I was speechless with amazement; my crippled patient was dancing about the room with the vigour of a youth of twenty, quite regardless of the mangled foot, which apparently gave him but little concern, and less pain.

“My friend,” I exclaimed loudly, “your foot!--think of your injuries! Your description is wonderful, magnificent, but do not forget your crippled state!”

“Ha!” he returned, “seven times seven have passed over me, and my foot is perfect again. See!”

Saying which he tore off the bandages, and exhibited to my startled eyes a foot without even a scar.

I now began to feel a strange fear creeping over me, and I asked him what he meant by “seven times seven passing over him?” To which question, as near as I can recollect, his reply was this.

“My friend, I will tell you what my meaning is, on one condition--that for three months from now you will not divulge a word of what I am about to speak to you. If you do, may the burden of your insincerity be on your own head! You have proved yourself a friend to a stranger, and the fact of your not knowing whom you have assisted, makes your act one of greater charity, and your kindness, like that of the Good Samaritan in my young days, shall be rewarded ere we part.”

What, I thought, does he mean by the Good Samaritan of his youth? I knew of but one: he of whom we read in the New Testament parable; and I was about to ask him the meaning of this second enigma, when he motioned me not to interrupt, and proceeded with his remarkable monologue.

“By ‘seven times seven’ I mean, that although an accident may befall me, as it may any other man, yet, after seven times seven hours have passed away, I shall be sound again.

“I am keenly sensible to pain and to all human feelings, but _I cannot know death_!

“No, between death and myself a gulf has been fixed by my Master, and though corporeal pain may for seven times seven hours rack and torture me, I am at the end of that period whole again, even though I were wounded ten times fatally.

“I am the deathless one!”

At the aspect and demeanour of my weird companion I could have shrieked with fear; his eyes were incandescent in their blazing lustre, and the locks of his beard and hair writhed to my astonished eyes like the living locks of a Gorgon.

“The stories I told you of past centuries were no mere tales gathered from books, but were from my own personal observations.

“I stood in Rome when it was in flames; I saw with these very eyes the martyrdom of the early Christians; I walked through the length and breadth of Europe while Rome, with all its power and glories, was passing away. At Hastings I stood beside brave Harold, when a short arrow, taking him in the eye, pierced brain and skull, and he fell dead beside me. I have seen the Saracens fall like mast in the autumn before the trained arms of the bold Crusaders; and when Napoleon’s army fled from Moscow I too followed them.

“I have felt the fierce rays of the Eastern sun and the biting winds and frost of dreary Lapland.

“I have courted dangers and death in all forms, but here, after centuries, I stand before you a living mortal covered with the cloak of immortality.”

“Heaven help you, poor man!” I cried; “you must be distraught; mayhap much learning has weakened your brain. Rest, good father, I implore you. Rest on this couch, you will be better soon.”

“Rest, rest!!” he wildly exclaimed, “there is no rest for me, nay, not even in the peaceful grave. Often and often have I stood in Death’s path, and have felt the icy coldness of his breath, but, alas! he has ever passed me by unheeded.”

“Surely,” said I, “you do not tell me that you are he who is doomed to walk this rolling earth till the Master bids thy penance be no more?”

“Ay,” he replied, “I am he--he whom men, without knowing my true name, call ‘The Wandering Jew’!”

I could scarcely believe my senses. Was the man mad? or was I mad? or was it all a phantasy of my brain?

My guest held out his hand to me, which I mechanically clutched; then drawing me to the couch, we sat down together.

“Forgive me, my young friend, for the shock I have caused you. Your kindness has touched my heart, and for that kindness I will repay you, as in times past I have occasionally rewarded others of my true friends.

“Now,” he continued, lowering the tone of his voice to a kindly pitch, “I dare say you have read of a certain mighty personage, who, in the early days of Christianity, was returning with great spoils from a neighbouring country, when he was hard beset by the enemy, who, with allies, followed close upon his heels; and how to save the vast treasures he had taken, turned aside the course of a certain river, and at dead of night buried his spoils there, deflecting the river to its true course again ere daydawn.”

I bowed assent.

“Now,” he continued, “I know the country where this took place, and can not only point out the very river, but the identical spot in the river where that treasure still lies hidden. Have you the perseverance, vigour, and endurance to bring that vast hoard to the light of day again? If so it shall be yours!”

Hardly knowing what I was saying I replied in the affirmative, and after further conversation we retired for the night.

We stayed a day or two longer at the inn to procure mules and other necessaries, and then rode off upon our distant quest.

After weeks of wandering through mountains and valleys we came to a river which flowed through a beautifully diversified country; hilly, rocky, and well clothed with trees and luxurious foliage.

Riding along the river’s bank we came to a very lonely spot,--a long glen--through which the river peacefully flowed in meandering curves and foaming falls. The end of the valley broadened out into a level plain of considerable extent, and in the midst of this plain stood the crumbling remains of two ancient towers, of which little more than the foundations remained.

“Here,” said my guide, “we halt; there lies our treasure,” saying which he pointed to the deep, silent stream flowing between the two massive towers.

“Now,” he continued, “you must follow out the plan I have devised for regaining the wealth which lies hidden there, and carry out everything just as I desire you.

“At the small town of Y---- hard by lives the owner of this land. You will assume the character of a wealthy but eccentric (or partly mad) Englishman. You are enchanted with the beautiful views in the glen yonder, and wish to stay here for a long period, to paint pictures and to generally enjoy yourself. You would like a two-roomed cottage built near one of the towers, that you may live and sleep amid the scenery you so love to depict. You will pay liberally.

“That is all I ask you to do. We will proceed at once to the town and make these very necessary arrangements. I am your mentor, your tutor, should prying people desire to know why an old man accompanies you.

“At Alexandria I have a friend, to whom I must write for certain necessary implements to be sent to us, without which it will be in vain to attempt our quest. To procure these implements shall be _my_ task. They must be sent to the nearest port, and thence may easily be brought here on the backs of mules.

“D---- is the nearest port, and there my friend Isaac Susha is harbour-master; on my bidding he will send the goods here, free from all observation or suspicion. In the mean time our little house will be building, and you can amuse yourself with your painting, while I elaborate my plans and ply my angling rod, for there is much fish in this river. I shall make an ideal fisherman, for a flowing beard points to the contemplative man, and your true angler is certainly of a contemplative mind; such a man was your English Izaak Walton.”

In due course the little house was built, and the implements or goods, supposed to be furniture, etc., arrived in six heavy cases borne on the backs of mules. The muleteers were paid and dismissed, and in a short time people ceased to regard us as a kind of show, and we were left in peace and quietness, except for an occasional couple who would stroll along in the evening to look at the mad Englishman and his keeper! Now and again an old shepherd, whose flocks nibbled the juicy pasture of the plain, would come and pay his respects to us, and watch the picture growing on my canvas; but after nightfall we were never disturbed, for the people of the district were very superstitious; and as the towers had the reputation of being haunted, we were free from all interruption after dark.

I unscrewed the packing-cases, and found they contained sundry articles of furniture, such as folding-chairs, folding iron bedsteads, cutlery, culinary ware, etc.; but in one of the cases was a complete diving suit, helmet, overalls, tubing, lead weight, heavy boots, and everything that a diver requires, even to a submarine lantern. Another case contained an air pump, extra tubing, crowbars, and sundry gear.

My old friend chuckled with delight at my surprise, and his eyes sparkled as we commenced putting the apparatus together.

“Now,” said he, “the inhabitants of this country are, as you know from the legend of the haunted towers which you have heard, very suspicious, and probably we shall have some official or other, making it his business to call upon us occasionally, to see what is going on, and it will never do to let him see the pump and diving apparatus, or we should at once be haled before some dignitary, and charged with having dealings with the Evil One. Now I have a proposition to make, which is this--our bedroom lies next the river, and I suggest that beneath the floor we hollow out a small chamber, about seven feet square, in which we can keep both the pump and diving suit from observation, so that at whatever time during the day any one chooses to call, nothing will be in view to betray us.”

“Agreed!” I exclaimed; “a capital proposal; we will set to work this very night. We will excavate, and as we dig up the earth I will carry it in a basket to the river’s brink and throw it in.”

“Very well,” said the ancient Jew, “I will delve, and you shall be the beast of burden, as you suggest, for you are the stronger man.”

“But,” I queried, “as you delve beneath the surface you will find it very wet, you will catch your death from cold, and have your limbs set fast with rheumatism.”

The old Jew laughed and replied, “Death--pah! You forget, my friend, who I am. Come, let us commence.”

I looked at my wonderful old comrade and shuddered.

In a fortnight we had our secret room prepared, and everything was ready to commence our search.

The Jew had informed me that the two towers were built by the great General, some weeks after the treasure was hidden, at a time when he had reasserted his power, and was once more in possession of the country hereabouts. In the towers he placed watchmen and tax-gatherers, whose duty it was to levy toll from each vessel passing up or down the river; at least this was what he gave forth, but it was in reality to guard the treasure lying buried in the bed of the river, which at a convenient time he purposed recovering.

For some years he was harassed by the enemy, and at length died, whereupon the enemy retook the country, and the new ruler, not being aware of the treasure buried in the river, carried on the custom of demanding toll, as he considered it a capital institution.

Years went by, men and manners changed, and the towers were neglected and fell into decay; but around the hoary ruins many curious legends gathered, and among others one which came very near the truth, as it told of an ancient king, who, in flight, being hard pressed by his pursuers, was in such haste to cross the river that the boat was overset, the king and many others drowned, and a great deal of valuable _spoil lost in the river_.

The Jew smiled at this particular story, and remarked that although, like the legend, his was only hearsay, yet, as he received his account first-hand from a friend who was _an eyewitness_ of the diversion of the river and the subsequent burial of the treasure, there could be but little romance about his version, which he averred was solid, substantial fact.

“Now,” he observed in conclusion, “I am positive that the treasure was buried midway between those two towers, but whether after the flight of all these centuries we shall find it, or in what form we shall find it, I cannot say; but if you are willing we will make the search, and if successful the whole shall be yours; I require nothing! The mere search is ample reward for me, as it serves to break the monotony of my existence.”

We commenced diving operations in a very timid manner, or at least I did, for although I had witnessed divers at work, I had never before had any actual experience; still, as the Jew said, “There was no hurry.”

The first few nights were spent in fitting up the apparatus, in making experimental dives, and in concocting a signal code that we might understand each other, etc.

The sensation of submarine diving has so often been described that I will not attempt to state what my feelings were at the outset of the operations; suffice it to say that they were far from pleasant, but with practice I soon became expert, especially as the deepest part of the water was not more than twenty feet, so that I did not suffer much from compression.

I quickly discovered that the bed of the river was somewhat muddy, that is to say, there was a deposit of several inches of mud or soft earth, resting upon a substratum of gravel. In some parts large beds of weeds were to be seen sailing their long fronds upward to a height of several feet: these I quickly cut away, and with great labour at length succeeded in clearing away the upper layer of soft ooze nearly from bank to bank, and for a width of perhaps twenty yards near the centre.

We worked four “turns” per night of an hour each, with an interval of half-an-hour between each dive, so that we were occupied from 10 p.m. till 4 a.m., when we went to bed and slept till 10 o’clock, beside obtaining several little daylight snoozes when all was quiet. The Sunday was to us a true Sabbath, and no manner of work was done, not even cooking; we reserved that day for prayer, meditation, conversation, and much-needed rest.

We had now been working for six whole weeks, but though everything was in perfect working order, and the river-bed was being cleared, we had no more knowledge of the exact location of the spoil than when we arrived three months previously.