THE DREAM SHIP 



23 



later at the Galapagos Islands, and re- 

 mained there ever since. This was the 

 second time he had spoken English in 

 fifty years ; so we must excuse his halting 

 diction. But the tales he could tell, the 

 tales ! He was here when the pirates of 

 the South American coast murdered for 

 money, even as they have a knack of 

 doing to this day, and hid the loot at 

 their headquarters in the Galapagos 

 Islands, silver and gold — boatloads of it. 



He had built a cutter with his own 

 hands and sailed in search of this same 

 loot, only to encounter the then owner, 

 still guarding his ill-gotten gains, though 

 reduced to nakedness and hair. At a dis- 

 tance "Dad" had seen him first and, mis- 

 taking him for a mountain goat, had shot 

 him through the heart. 



It was the first man he had killed, and 

 he could not stay on the island after that, 

 especially at night. 



Afterward I asked the owner of Cris- 

 tobal if one might believe half the old 

 man said, and he nodded gravely. 



"There is much, also, that he does not 

 say," he added with a smile. 



TREASURE STILL LIES HIDDEN IN THE 

 GALAPAGOS ISLANDS 



There is undoubtedly treasure still 

 lying hidden in the Galapagos Islands. 

 Two caches have been unearthed, silver 

 ingots and pieces of eight respectively. 

 The finder of one built himself a hand- 

 some hotel in Ecuador, the other drank 

 himself to death in short order. But 

 there is definite proof that there is more. 



As a field for the treasure-hunter, it is 

 doubtful if any place in the world offers 

 better chances of success today than the 

 Galapagos Islands ; but — and there is al- 

 ways a "but" — the uncertainty of wind 

 and current among the islands make it 

 impossible for a sailing ship to under- 

 take the search, a motor auxiliary is too 

 unreliable, and even a small steamer is 

 too large for the creeks and reef chan- 

 nels it would be necessary to negotiate. 



With a full-powered launch and div- 

 ing apparatus, and a parent ship in at- 

 tendance, and unlimited time, money, and 

 patience — but these be dreams beyond the 

 reach of a penniless world-wanderer — 

 dreams, nevertheless, that will assuredly 

 one day be realized. 



No one thinks of the Galapagos Islands. 

 Situated a bare six hundred miles from 

 the American coast-line, in the direct 

 trade route between the South Pacific 

 Islands and the United States of Amer- 

 ica, this group is seldom visited more 

 than twice a year, and then for the most 

 part by Ecuadorean schooners. 



The veriest atoll in the South Pacific 

 receives more attention, and with not a 

 tithe of the cause. The cause? Well, 

 come with us to the hacienda of the 

 owner of Cristobal and you shall see. 



PRECISELY ON THE EQUATOR 



For this purpose it is necessary to 

 transfer one's activities from the heaving 

 deck of the Dream Ship to the equally 

 heaving back of a mountain pony and 

 lope for an hour up a winding, boulder- 

 strewn track through a wilderness of low 

 scrub and volcanic rock. 



"Still an ash-heap," you think; "noth- 

 ing but an ash-heap." Then you sur- 

 mount a ridge, the last of half a dozen, 

 and rein in to breathe your pony and in- 

 cidentally to marvel. 



You remind yourself that you are pre- 

 cisely on the Equator ; yet it is positively 

 chilly up here. A green, gently undulat- 

 ing country, dotted with grazing cattle 

 and horses, patches of sugar-cane, coffee 

 bushes, and lime trees, stretches away to 

 a cloud-capped range of mountains. 



The soil is a rich, red loam, almost 

 stoneless, and scarcely touched by the 

 plow. There are 3.500 head of cattle at 

 present on Cristobal Island, and it could 

 support 50,000 with ease. There is no 

 disease and no adverse climatic condition 

 with which to contend, and at three years' 

 old a steer brings $ioo (gold), live 

 weight, at Guayaquil — when a steamer 

 can be induced to call and take it there. 



There are a few hundred acres under 

 cultivation when there might be thou- 

 sands, and two hundred bone-lazy peons 

 do the work of fifty ordinary farm hands. 



Looking down on this fertile valley, it 

 is hard to realize that one is standing on 

 the lip of a long-extinct crater, that in 

 reality Cristobal is a series of these, dour 

 and uninviting to a degree, viewed from 

 outside, but veritable gardens within. 

 And there are four other islands in the 

 Galapagos group — some smaller, some 



