The Story of Rubber

So far research indicates that Verrill wrote at least 16 stories for Everyland from 1915 to 1919. Several more of these stories will be appearing here shortly./drf

The Story of Rubber

By A. Hyatt Verrill

From Everland magazine, February 1917. Digitized by Doug Frizzle, February 2012.

DID you ever stop to think how useful rubber is? Without it, this busy old world would be badly off indeed, and if all the rubber was suddenly taken from us, countless industries, arts, manufactures, and businesses would cease and modern life would be impossible.

Without rubber, telephones, telegraphs, electric lights, and the wonderful wireless would fail; automobiles would be all but useless; aeroplanes would be discarded; trolley-cars would cease to run; submarines would be well-nigh impossible, and countless mills and factories would find their machinery at a standstill. Moreover, thousands of people would be thrown out of work, great factories would be closed, millions of machines would cease their busy roar and hum, and many sick and injured people would die, for all these things and all these industries require rubber or a substitute which has not yet been discovered.

Truly we live in an age of rubber and yet our great-grandfathers, or even our grandfathers, for that matter, hardly knew the meaning of the word, and the important and useful substance was used only for gum shoes and erasers.

Rubber is merely the juice of a tree and in its natural state bears no resemblance to the tough, elastic rubber or the shining, black or red, hard rubber which we know.

There are many kinds of trees and plants from which rubber is obtained, but some furnish better rubber than others and the best of all is Para rubber, which comes from a tree found growing wild in Brazil.

Formerly all the rubber was obtained from the wild trees, but nowadays, the rubber trees are planted and cultivated on estates or plantations, and the Brazilian trees have been introduced to warm countries in many parts of the world.

Still, much of the rubber comes from the wild trees in the forests, and thousands of men—black men and Indians mostly—go forth into the vast tropical forests each year to find rubber trees and to gather the juice.

The juice or sap, called latex, of the rubber trees is between the outer and inner bark and when a cut is made in the bark the white, milky sap trickles slowly out and after a time becomes thick and sticky. As it is slow work gathering the milk by climbing the trees and tapping them, many of the men in the forests save time and trouble by felling the trees. This is a very wasteful method, for rubber trees grow very slowly, and in most countries where rubber is found there are strict laws against destroying the trees and laws regulating the way in which the bark must be cut.

When properly bled, the tree is not injured, for the cuts soon heal and the tree may be tapped year after year.

When a tree is to be bled, the rubber gatherer makes a number of V-shaped cuts in the bark and connects these by a groove or cut so that the juice from all the cuts will run down in this channel. Then at the lower end of this up-and-down cut a little trough is driven into the tree and a cup or other receptacle is placed beneath.

As the juice fills the cups it is poured into big gourds or bowls, where it is hardened or coagulated. In the forest this is done by using certain leaves whose juice partly hardens the latex, but on the estates it is accomplished more rapidly and thoroughly by means of acid.

When the rubber gatherer has accumulated a sufficient quantity of rubber he builds a smoky fire and, dipping a stick into the latex, twirls it about until a quantity of the rubber has adhered to the rod.

This he holds in the smoke of the fire to cure it, and by repeatedly dipping his stick in the rubber and smoking it he gradually forms a huge mass or ball of cured rubber on the end of the pole. These big balls are then shipped to the seacoast to be sent to all parts of the world.

On the estates, however, the rubber is made in sheets or thin cakes which are packed in bales for shipment. Thus you can always tell forest rubber from plantation rubber, and as the gatherers of wild rubber often try to cheat by enclosing stones, sticks, or other material within the balls, the estate rubber can be depended upon and, therefore, brings a higher price.

When the Europeans first visited South America, they found the Indians using rubber for balls with which to play games, and also as a waterproof varnish, but its real value did not occur to the white men for a long time, or until some one found it could be used for rubber shoes. But these gum shoes, as they were called, were very poor, sticky, heavy things, for they were made by dipping a clay mould in the latex and smoking it over a fire, after which the clay was broken up and removed.

Gradually other articles of rubber came into use, but these were all of the same gummy, soft rubber as the shoes, and it was not until a Mr. Goodyear made a wonderful discovery that the true value of rubber was realized. Mr. Goodyear found that by mixing sulphur with rubber and then heating it the substance became hard and firm without losing its elasticity or waterproof quality, and that by this "vulcanizing" process, as it is called, the rubber could be made to any degree of hardness provided that the right proportions of sulphur and the right amount of heat were used. When this became known, rubber could be used for thousands of purposes never dreamed of before, for it could be cast, moulded, or pressed into any form while soft and then vulcanized until it was hard and retained the desired shape.

There was nothing equal to it for surgical appliances; it withstood acids and chemicals which ruined other substances; it could be easily cleansed; it never decayed, and it could be turned, carved, or polished like wood or ivory. Dentists found it the best of all materials for making plates for artificial teeth; it was made into elastic bands, waterproof garments, shoes and boots, toilet articles, and rubber cloth, and when it was found that rubber was a non-conductor of electricity it became of the utmost value in many new ways.

So, year by year, the value and uses of rubber have increased until to-day we could not get on without it, for man with all his skill and science has never found a way to make artificial rubber or even a substitute for the juice of the wonderful South American tree.

Connecticut Men Who Sailed

Connecticut Men Who Sailed In Tiny Cockleshells of Boats Built Rich Sea Trade In Which Cash Hardly Ever Figured

A. Hyatt Verrill

The Hartford Courant; Jan 5, 1936; researched by Alan Schenker, digitized by Doug Frizzle, Nov 2011.

Luck Alone At the Helm On Voyages

Inland Farmers, Ignorant Of Navigation, Put to Sea For Any Port They Might Strike

All Transactions Based On Barter

Lumber, Cloth, Nails, Flour and Tobacco Traded for Rum, Sugar, Molasses and Indigo

Nowadays, when we are accustomed to using paper and silver currency, bank checks and drafts, when all commerce and trade is conducted on a monetary basis, we rarely stop to think of the difficulties our pioneer ancestors met in the days when actual currency was seldom seen. And few persons are aware of the means by which this difficulty was overcome or what a highly important part actual barter played in the history of New England and New England's commerce.

Wampum Scorned By Whites.

In their dealings with the Indians, the early settlers, of course found barter was necessary. The redmen had no use for shillings or pence but they had their own currency in the form of wampum or "peak." And here it may be of interest to explain that both these terms were derived from the Algonquin word "Warapumpeag" or "Yanpunpeeg," meaning "Strings of white beads." (Wamp or Yanp—white; Umpi or Unpe—a string of beads and Ag or Eg meaning more than one or many). Among most of the eastern tribes wampum was the standard of exchange, the blue being worth several times as much as the white, but with the arrival of the whitemen with entirely new goods, and desiring furs rather than shell beads, a new medium of exchange became essential. As a result a more or less uniform and recognized system of relative values was established with the standard, as we might say, based on some particular animal pelt.

Marten Skin As Standard.

My own great-great-grandfather, who maintained a trading post in Maine adopted the marten as his standard, and the system he followed was typical of all the outlying communities at that time. A marten pelt had a value of either half a pound of tobacco, four ounces of gunpowder, two yards of calico or two pounds of flour. Mink skins had one-half the trade value of marten but varied somewhat from year to year, and all other pelts were estimated on the trade value of marten skins. In cases where there was a small balance over, the "change" was made in articles of small exchange value, such as beads, lead, hoop iron, pins, and so forth.

Similar methods were followed in all business deals. Grain and corn brought to the mill were ground in exchange for a certain portion of the meal or flour, and logs were sawed in return for one board or plank in every five cut in the mill.

Good Profits to Be Had.

Once each year the furs, skins and forest products which had been obtained were taken to some coast town where they were disposed of for debit notes, supplies and various goods for trade. It may appear at first thought, as though there could be little or no gain by trading powder and shot or cutlery for furs, and then bartering the pelts for more ammunition and hardware. But as a matter of fact, there were immense profits to be made. Thus a marten skin, for which the trader had given four ounces of gunpowder, might be sold in Portland or Boston for several pounds of powder, which in turn would buy 10 or 12 marten skins.

In most portions of New England, however, the beaver skin was the ordinary accepted "standard." and instead of keeping accounts, recording sales and other transactions in terms of pounds, shillings and pence, they were kept in terms of beaver skins. It is recorded that Samoset sold an area of land to the British for "50 beavers." Not that the chief received payment for the real estate in beavers' pelts, which would have been about the last things he needed, but in powder and shot, hatchets and blankets, cloth, beads and trinkets to the value of 50 beaver skins. Very often, in the old documents still preserved, there is mention of cattle, household goods, grain and produce, even the cost of building ships, having been paid for in "beavers."

Currency Practically Disappears.

But very frequently no genuine beaver skins were passed from hand to hand, the actual deal being made in equivalents of beaver pelts. Indeed, so universal and well recognized did this "beaver" standard become that for greater convenience coins or tokens were struck bearing a rude figure of a beaver and which were known as "beavers." These took the place of true currency and had the value of a prime beaver skin. This led to the widely adopted use of tokens, usually of lead, brass or copper, which for a number of years served throughout New England in place of real money. They were issued by established merchants and shipping firms in the coastwise towns and were stamped with the values of the existing British coins in circulation. Real currency being extremely scarce, it was retained by the merchants and shipping firms for the purpose of liquidating taxes, port charges, customs dues and other debts which called for payment in specie, the artisans, laborers and public at large being paid in tokens which were accepted at their face value, although their worth depended entirely upon the integrity and financial status of those who issued them, the tokens being in effect, merely promissary notes, as one might say.

Even up to 50 years ago many of these old New England tokens were in use to some extent, and I can remember when, as a boy in Maine, I bought many a stick of candy, and many a marble, kite or other toy with brass tokens given to me by my grandmother along with big copper pennies and half-pennies. Often, too, these tokens greatly simplified the problems of international exchange, and many of the New England ship owners issued tokens which passed current in the British, Dutch and French West Indies as well as in New England.

Although beaver skins had become a widely recognized standard or basis of all trade values in northern New England, the settlers in the southern sections had established their own "standards" based on local products and commodities. Thus, in Connecticut, oxen, corn, salt pork and hides were the units; on which all barter was based, and were regarded as legal tender in payment of local debts and transactions, being commonly called "country money." Thus, in a contract made on June 13, 1717, between a Mr. Whiting of Hartford and Comfort Davis, it was provided that Davis, who "hath hired my whale bote to go awhalyng to Fishers Islande," was to "pay 20 shillings for the use of "bote and gere", and three pounds "if she bee loste and they get nothinge," payment to be made in "such goodes as I may use to my advantyge." It was also agreed that if Davis were successful and took a whale, that he should pay Mr. Whiting the sum of three pounds 10 shillings "in oyle from ye fish."

In another contract made in 1681, Hugh Mould of New London agreed to build a ship, the "Alexander and Martha" for a one-eighth share in the vessel and "merchantible goodes" to the value of 165 pounds.

But it was in ocean commerce that barter really came into its own. Trade was truly trade in those days, and New England's ship masters were the greatest of all traders. The first small vessels to be built were confined to the coastwise trade carrying cloth, household goods, powder and shot, hardware and similar articles from the larger towns to outlying settlements where the products of civilization were exchanged for furs, gums, wampum, sassafras roots and other native products. Often the little trading vessels sailed from place to place with no definite objective, and trading wherever they found it to the best advantage.

Used “Hiede of Lether."

But there was a regularly established trade between Connecticut and Virginia, with a "hiede of lether" as the established "standard" of barter. In the papers of Captain John Coite, owner of the pink "Providence," of Middletown, there is a schedule of trade values based on the hide as a standard. According to this, one and one-half pounds of hides equalled one pound of buckskin. One pound of hides equalled two pounds of old iron, and two pounds of hides equalled one pound of old pewter, and it was provided that the "leaste buckskin" should "weigh not less than four and one-half pounds. In this list of "country money" or "merchantable pay," the relative trade values of corn, wheat, pease, salt beef and pork were set down, as well as wampum, the blue wampum being worth a bushel of wheat per fathom while a fathom of the while shell beads would purchase only a bushel of corn. As the monetary values of grain and some other commodities were noted, the blue wampum was worth four shillings a fathom and the white one shilling and six pence in actual cash—provided there was cash in circulation.

Striking Out for West Indies

It was not long before the farmer-sailors of New England discovered that trading ox hides for buckskin, salt pork for codfish and pewter plates for wampum and furs with their neighboring colonists was not a very lucrative form of commerce. But farther asea were the West Indies replete with sugar, rum, molasses and other goods in great demand, and the New England skippers decided to try their hands at bartering in the islands. It seems incredible that men who tilled their inland farms beside the Connecticut and in the valleys of New England, and whose only vessels were the tiny open sloops of 10 or 12 tons burden should ever have dreamed of attempting ocean voyages to the Antilles. Yet for many years these little craft hailing from Hartford, Glastonbury, Middletown, Windsor, Thompsonville and even Springfield made trip after trip to the West Indies and even to South America. It was such men braving the Atlantic and the Caribbean Sea in their tiny cockleshells of home-built boats, who were the pioneers of New England's vast West Indian trade and laid the foundations of America's once famous merchant marine.

Destination Hardly Mattered.

Possessing the most rudimentary ideas of navigation, entirely ignorant of the use of the quadrant, incapable of taking an observation without charts, depending wholly upon inaccurate compasses and dead reckoning, and with only a man and a boy as their crew, they sailed away on their long voyages to the tropics. It is not at all surprising that these daring New Englanders rarely reached the destination for which they sailed. The wonder is that they ever survived. But they could scarcely miss the West Indian islands altogether, and one island served their purpose about as well as another. And having once reached the Antilles they could sail from island to island, bartering their cargoes and eventually sailing back to New England with their sloops deep laden with tropical products.

The logs or rather the journals of these adventurous, fearless traders make most interesting, and often humorous, reading. As a usual thing more time was consumed in sailing down the rivers to the Sound than on the voyage from Long Island Sound to the West Indies or South America. And judging by their quaintly written comments, the skippers considered "makeinge the open sea" a greater feat of seamanship than the ocean voyage to the Antilles. In the Journal of Captain Lord, of Glastonbury, it is recorded that his sloop, the "Speedwell," set sail on August 20. 1755, and by September 15, the vessel had reached no farther than Rocky Hill!

"We can neither tow, warp nor sail, and I fear me we never shall," wrote the skipper-owner, who was compelled to put back to Hartford to replenish his water and provisions. Yet he must have managed eventually to have won clear of the river, for in November he was in far-distant Surinam or Dutch Guiana, and was exchanging his cargo at "this dumb dirty place," as he called it, to "goode profittc", and a little later set sail for home with a load of logwood, lignum vitae, sugar, rum, mahogany and green-heart timber.

Days of ‘Horse Jockeys.’

The earliest of these farmer-sailors to voyage to the West Indies carried cargoes of miscellaneous merchandise consisting of lumber, barrel-shooks, cloth, nails, flour, bread, brass goods, tobacco, broom handles, peas, onions, corn, and so-forth which they traded for rum, sugar, indigo, gums, species and logwood. But they soon discovered there was a greater demand for cattle and horses than for manufactured goods and foodstuffs and presently they were carrying little cargo aside from livestock. In fact horses became such an important trade that the Connecticut River vessels were called "horse jockeys", and they frequently sailed for the Antilles with 40 or 50 of the animals as a cargo. Try and imagine what it must have been like to have voyaged from Connecticut to Barbados in a 15-ton open boat carrying 50 horses, with the necessary fodder and water, and manned by a farmer-captain, a slave and a boy.

It was even worse when swine or cattle were substituted for horses, and as might have been expected, the losses, especially in heavy weather, were very heavy. But so profitable was the business that even if all but one-third of the animals perished at sea, the long voyager, paid handsomely, for there was a profit at both ends of the cruise.

Yankee Ingenuity Triumphs.

History fails to record who was the first of these New England sea-going traders to discover that the Dutch colonists in Surinam were in need of cattle and bricks. But it must have been early in the game, for by 1720, a regular trade in these commodities was being carried on with Dutch Guiana.

And here Yankee ingenuity and shrewdness came to the fore. When a New England skipper arrived in the Dutch colony and found that for one reason or another he could not "fill up" with rum, sugar, molasses and logwood in exchange for his cargo, was he discouraged? Not a bit of it! From trader-sea captain he would transform himself to a mason-builder, contract to erect buildings with the bricks he had brought, and accept payment for his services in local products.

Just Like Glastonbury.

Most of the brick buildings to be seen in Paramaribo today were thus built by Connecticut traders, which explains why the residences and public buildings of a Dutch Colony in South America are so amazingly similar to those of a New England village. Many a visitor to Dutch Guiana has been sorely puzzled as to why fireless houses should be provided with brick chimneys, why homes sizzling under an equatorial sun should have heavy, green-painted shutters to the windows, why there should be cupolas perched atop the steeply-pitched shingled roofs, and why fan-lights and wooden pillars should frame the panelled front doors. Even the natives of Surinam can offer no explanation, but in a letter written to his wife, Captain Joshua Green of Glastonbury says: "I have this day completed the building of the stadhaus, and were I to be crossing the green in my cups, I would deem myself at home, so like to the town hall is it builded, with green shutters to its windows and cupola atop its roof, and in all matters much the same."

The Next Step.

From voyaging to South America and the Antilles it was little more than a step to extend the New England trade to Europe and Africa, and very soon the little sloops, pinks and ketches of obscure New England villages were carrying on a three cornered trade, sailing to Spain and the Barbary Coast with flour, lumber and corn which were exchanged for wines, millet, olive oil, cloth and slaves; thence to the West Indies where new cargoes were secured by barter, and finally returning to their home ports with goods worth many times the value of the original cargoes.

Trade at Its Best.

Perhaps the most remarkable example of the extent to which this New England maritime trade was really trade, is the record of the ship "Neptune" of New Haven. Under command of Captain Townsend, the "Neptune" set sail for China in 1797, carrying a general cargo and with gold coins to the value of $500 for use in case of an emergency. Putting in at the West Indies, the skipper traded a portion of his cargo for rum, sugar and the like. Then he squared away for Rio where he bartered more of his cargo for fustic, indigo, sanders and other products of Brazil. At the Falkland Islands and about Terra del Fuego, the crew devoted some time to sealing, and then, rounding Cape Horn, the "Neptune" headed for the South Sea Islands. Here a brisk trade was carried on and calico, cotton cloth, brass wire and old iron were exchanged for divi-divi, pearls and pearl shell, spices and dragons' blood. Finally reaching China, Captain Townsend bartered his seal skins and the remainder of his original cargo, receiving tea, silks, lacquer work, porcelain, sandalwood and ivory in return, and hoisted his topsails bound home.

On July 11, 1799, two years and six months after he had set sail from New Haven, he dropped anchor in the harbor with a cargo valued at $280,000 and with the original $500 in gold coin intact!

No wonder that the expression: "As sharp as a Yankee trader," became a byword throughout the world.

Long before the "Neptune" made this memorable voyage, script had come into general use throughout New England. But even after paper money and tokens were everywhere accepted as currency, the old system of barter and trade remained popular and formed the basis of practically all business and commerce.

Getting Along Without Money.

In a letter written to a friend a piano manufacturer of Saybrook stated that he had handled less than two pounds in currency in 10 years, and then described in detail how he had managed. Receiving an order for a piano from a customer in New York, he arranged with the owner of a sloop to transport the instrument and himself to Manhattan, payment for freight and passage to be made in cordage, sailcloth and gear. Arriving in New York, he was paid for the piano by debt-notes on various merchants from whom he received the cordage and other articles with which to discharge his debt to the vessel's owner; rosewood and ivory, tools and household goods, clothing, and a bolt of silk for a gown for his wife, as well as a tierce of tobacco and a cask of Holland gin. Returning to Saybrook, he exchanged the gin and some of the tobacco for a yoke of oxen and a milch cow, and having no use for the cattle he traded them in for bricks with which to erect an addition to his piano shop.

Bearding the Bearded Indian in his Den

A similar article to this appeared in Scientific American magazine. Since the images with this article are so poor in quality, I have selected two of the SA images to illustrate this one.

Bearding the Bearded Indian in his Den

Few White Explorers Ever Return From the Jungle Haunt of the Strangest of South American Wild Tribes

By A. Hyatt Verrill

New York Times; Apr 22, 1928, pg. 80. Researched by Alan Schenker, digitized by Doug Frizzle, September 2011.

The author recently returned from an expedition for the Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, and the American Museum of Natural History.

BEARDED Indians! The term savors of the strange, the bizarre, the unknown. The bearded Indians of Bolivia, whose existence I reported after my last expedition into Peru and Bolivia are strange indeed, yet they are not freaks, like the "white Indians" who aroused so much interest a few years ago. They are a distinct tribe, and every adult male member wears a full bushy beard. Most Indians of North or South America have beards, although as a rule these are shaved off or pulled out, and when allowed to grow unhindered, are sparse, thin, stiff and wiry. The hirsute growths of the bearded Indians are thick, soft and somewhat wavy, and often reach half way down the chest, giving them a most un-Indian appearance. In fact, these men bear a stronger resemblance to natives of the South Sea Islands of New Guinea than to aborigines of South America. This striking similarity is not confined to their bearded faces. It seems probable that in the bearded Indians we may find the answer to the question of the origin of man in America, or at least in South America, and that may prove the truth of the theory that the South Americas Indians are of Polynesian or Melanesian stock, or, perhaps better, of Oceanian stock.

To reach the country of the bearded Indians is no simple undertaking. Their home is in the vast tropical jungle area of the Brazil-Bolivia border, an area that stretches almost unbroken and unknown from the Gran Chaco of Paraguay and Southeastern Bolivia to Southern Colombia, perhaps the largest unexplored inhabited area in the world.

Here, hidden in the forests, hundreds of miles from civilization, in a district well-nigh impossible to reach from the Atlantic Coast and far beyond the mighty Andes to the west, dwell innumerable Indian tribes. Some of these, living near the borders of the "montana," or tropical interior, are peaceful and visit the outlying villages and outposts of Peru and Bolivia. Tribes fairly well known are the so-called Chunchos of Peru, mainly belonging to the Campas and the Amuenaha, and the Panos of Bolivia, as well as the Jivarros of Ecuador. But by far the greater number of the Indians dwelling in this forest area are unknown to ethnologists and have never been visited by any white man who returned to tell of his experiences.

Even to the missionaries the existence of these tribes and their very names are little more than mythical. Some are reputed to be cannibals, some are known to be head-hunters, but their relationships, their habits, their dialects, their physical characteristics no one knows. Their land holds few temptations to induce civilized man to visit it, and the perils of rapids, cataracts, fever and insects, not to mention the dangers from the Indians themselves, are enough to discourage all but the boldest. No doubt the tales of the Indians' savagery are exaggerated, but if only a tenth is true, one would think twice before attempting to enter the country. And all accounts, tales and rumors agree that the most savage, the most implacable, the most hostile tribes are the Sirionos, the Bearded Indians of Bolivia.

Although the existence of these people has been rumored for at least 150 years, yet until recently no outsider had ever returned from their territory, and every expedition, whether armed or peaceful, that had attempted to pass through the country of the bearded Indians had been driven back or wiped out. I was told by a Redemptorist priest that despite constant efforts for a century it had been impossible to plant a mission in or near the district. Even Indians of other tribes were barred from the Siriono region and the near-by Indians, savage fighters as they were, had a wholesome dread or their bearded and perhaps cannibalistic neighbors.

Within recent years the bearded savages have become a bit tamer and less aggressive, and have entered into a virtual armed truce with the surrounding peoples. A few traders and natives have visited the outlying members of the tribe, and it is no longer an exactly suicidal thing to do. I lay no claim to having "discovered" the tribe, nor^: are they a "new" tribe; but as far as I am aware, I am the first to secure scientific and ethnological data and specimens from the tribe and to bring them to the attention of science.

These bearded aborigines are of particular interest to students who believe that the so-called Indians of Western South America are the descendants of emigrants from the Pacific islands, from Polynesia, Melanesia, Malaysia or possibly from some archipelago ages ago submerged. Such an archipelago once existed in the vicinity of mysterious Easter Island, as Professor Thompson has proved. The original migrants to South America's Pacific coast might have been refugees from that archipelago. Such an assumption is by no means necessary, however. Any large South Sea canoe or catamaran could safely cross the Pacific. In the long ago, when such a migration must have occurred, if at all, there may have been islands forming a series of stepping stones, so to say, between the archipelago and the mainland.

In physical appearance, in religion, in dialects, in certain customs many of the South American tribes are strikingly like the natives of the South Pacific islands, and are in no way Mongolian. It is true that among some of them one sees individuals of the Mongol, or the Asiatic, type; but these might easily indicate ancient admixtures with races from Central or even North America. The fact that the insular type disappears and the Mongol type increases as we go northward would tend to bear out this hypothesis.

Moreover, we know from archaeological remains in ancient graves and mounds that there was a considerable trade in prehistoric times between Peru and Central America and Mexico, as well as between the west coast of North America and the Pacific Islands. Mexican shells are frequently found in pre-Incan and Incan graves; Peruvian ceramics and implements are found in Central America and Mexico. In the prehistoric graves on the Californian coast expeditions from the Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, discovered adze heads and other objects indisputably from the Hawaiian and other mid-Pacific islands. My own discoveries in Central Panama, which revealed the former presence of an extremely ancient civilization on the Isthmus, brought to light certain objects which can only be explained by the assumption that the members of the race were in direct and frequent communication with Southern Asia.

It was to seek further proofs of the Oceanian origin of the Indians of Western South America that I made my recent expedition to the interior of Peru and Bolivia, probably the richest field for archaeological research in America. Here, scattered over an area of nearly half a million square miles, are innumerable remains of civilizations that flourished and disappeared thousands of years ago. Despite the fact that scientists have delved among these ruins and graves and that volumes have been written regarding their discoveries and conclusions, still this treasure ground of archaeology has scarcely had its surface scratched.

Great temples, immense fortresses, vast cities, magnificent palaces and millions of graves have never been studied nor even seen by civilized man, and many more lie hidden in the jungle and in the inaccessible heart of the Andes. Concealed beneath the disintegrated adobe and crumbling masonry of buildings, and burled in the graves with the mummies, lies a wealth of archaeological material beyond calculation, and somewhere amid these ruins or in the graves is the key that, when discovered, will end the mystery of the origin of the races that first inhabited the land and built up marvelous civilizations ages before the white man set foot on American soil.

In the heart of the Andes and on the tablelands of Peru and Bolivia, at an altitude of two to three miles above sea level, one is in a bleak, cold climate, where, even in Summer, snow squalls and hailstorms are frequent, where perpetual snow and great glaciers cover the mountains in an unbroken, dazzling white rampart, where heavy rains fall, and where the present-day Indians find stone huts a necessity. To travel in this country, once one leaves the beaten track, is far from comfortable. Transportation is by mule back and llama train or on foot. The so-called towns are mere villages of squalid Indian huts. Even In the localities where the fairly level desert makes it possible to travel by Ford, one must depend on the hospitality of the Indians for food and shelter.

One must not inquire too closely as to the origin of the food one eats, else one goes hungry. Frozen potatoes are the principal food of the Indians, in the more sheltered and fertile spots pounded or roasted maize is used, and where there is a body of water one may sometimes obtain fish or even wild duck and snipe. But the Indian's menu seldom includes meat of any sort. If an animal is injured or becomes otherwise useless, its flesh may be stripped from its bones and dried in the air. Usually it smells to high heaven and is so tough, hard and rancid as badly cured rawhide; and since fuel is precious and water boils at a low temperature in the high altitudes, food of any sort is usually less than half cooked.

THESE Indians, among whom one must eat and sleep when on an expedition in the district, are of two races—the Quichuas in Peru and the Almarás in Bolivia. There are many tribes and sub-tribes of each. The Quichuas are mild mannered, hard working and friendly, whereas the Almarás are boastful, quarrelsome, suspicious and far from hospitable. Both tribes till every available Inch of soil, cultivating the mountains by means of terraced plots of ground to their very summits. Both use the leaf of the cocoa, which, chewed with a bit of lime, enables them to endure fatigue and hunger for days without other sustenance; both are fond of dancing and fiery liquor, and both are filthy.

Whence they originally came no one can say. That they are of incalculably ancient origin is certain. The Almarás tongue is conceded to be the Sanskrit of the New World. In fact, the Almarás take their name from the dialect. Among them are many of a decided Mongolian type, whereas the Quichuas are often indistinguishable in appearance from natives of the Pacific Islands.

Back of the Quichua territory are the Campas, the Amuenshas and others of totally different stock and language, while back of the Almarás territory are the Yungas and Collas, the latter of Aimará stock, the former of an entirely different race, speaking a distinct tongue and, in many respects, far more Malaysian than Mongolian in appearance. Further south, about the Beni River, are the wild and usually hostile Panos, while still further inland, isolated in almost impenetrable jungles, are the strange bearded Indians, who might well be natives of New Guinea or the Oceanic Islands transported bodily to the heart of South America.

Much taller than the other Indians of South America, powerfully built, with slender limbs, dark skins, thick hair and bushy beards, the men are most formidable looking. Their weapons are immense bows seven or eight feet in length, and arrows of incredible size, often seven feet long, an inch in diameter and feathered with vanes eighteen inches or more in length and several inches wide. These are weapons such as one might expect the fabled giants to use. Why these savages, who are not large men as judged by our standards, should prefer such enormous and unwieldy weapons is a mystery.

The bearded Indians are expert archers with their huge bows and arrows. The lower end of the bow is braced between the great toe and the second toe of the left foot, the arrow and the string are held in the right hand and braced against the right hip, and the bow is pushed forward with the left hand to the full extent of the arm, instead of being drawn by pulling on the string with the right hand. Rude wooden clubs are also used, as well as wooden spears tipped with fire-hardened, poisoned points.

They are a most primitive race, ignorant of weaving or spinning, and not even using the bark-cloth which is commonly seen among the other South American tribes.

Neither the men nor the women wear clothing of any sort. Their only ornaments are rudely made necklaces of human and animal teeth, shells and seeds and headdresses consisting of split feathers attached to a twisted fiber which is fastened to one ear, passed over the head and looped about the other ear.

Their homes are the simplest of conical huts of leaves and grass on a rude frame of branches; they kindle fire by rubbing two sticks together, and they eat much of their meat raw; in fact, the rarer the better and by preference barely dead. As far as I could learn, the bearded Indians have no definite religion, but believe that every object, animate or inanimate, is the abode of a spirit, good or evil, and that upon killing any creature supposed to contain a good spirit they must beg its forgiveness and provide the spirit with a new home. This new home may be a bit of their own hair, a feather or piece of hide from the creature itself, or even a mark made in the earth.

Apparently they have no marriage ceremonies, nor have they any conception of time. They cannot count above five by units, but can count to fifty or more by "hands." They do not tattoo, and, as far as I can say, they do not paint their faces or bodies.

Their dialect is wholly different from any other South American dialect with which I am familiar. It is guttural but not inharmonious, and is remarkable for its monotone. Many of the words are almost identical with words with the same or similar meanings used by Oceanian tribes. A comparison of the cranial measurements of these people with similar measurements of races from the Pacific islands will unquestionably go a long way toward proving or disproving their relationship, but without these the most casual observer will note, in the features and other physical characteristics of the race, an astonishing resemblance to the inhabitants of the South Sea Archipelagoes.

To me there is no question of the bearded Indians being of Oceanian stock, but much more time must be spent with the tribe and more extensive ethnological collections and a more detailed study of their beliefs, dialect and customs must be made before conclusions can be reached. This work must be done in the dry season, for during the rainy season it is hardly possible to reach the district and even less possible for a white man to live therein. In many years devoted to ethnological studies of the Indians of South and Central America I have visited and lived among some tribes supposedly hostile, others who are reputed never to permit a civilized man to enter their territory, and still others who had never met a civilized man. But in no case have I been molested, threatened or treated otherwise than with friendliness and hospitality. I can only judge these savages by my own experience, and I do not believe that any Indian has ever killed or molested a white man unless the white man was the aggressor or unless the Indians had suffered at the hands of white men.

To visit hostile or questionable tribe when one is carrying arms is to invite trouble. It is like parading Broadway with a cocked revolver in one's hand. I never carry arms when visiting an unknown tribe or a tribe not positively known to be friendly, and neither do I permit my Indians to carry arms under such conditions. To appear unarmed convinces the savages that one's mission is peaceful, and since one man or a dozen men, no matter how well armed, would not stand a ghost of a show among several hundred Indians if trouble should start, one is just as safe without weapons as with them.

In ports of South America certain dialects are so widely used for trade among tribes that they have become a sort of lingua franca of the bush, and one who speaks these dialects has a means of communication among many tribes. But in most cases I am obliged to depend on interpreters. At the outposts of civilisation Indians may usually be found who speak Spanish or English and one or more Indian dialects. Among the tribes with whom these fellows can communicate, others can be obtained who speak still other dialects. I have been obliged to use three or even four Indians as intermediaries in order to converse with some remote tribe.

Familiarity with the South American natives has not bred contempt, but has fostered a wholesome respect for them, although I cannot say that I ever fear them. Actually one is in far greater danger in the streets of New York than in an Indian village in the depths of the Amazonian jungles, and I am far more afraid of motor traffic than of the most savage Indians, bearded or not.

The Oak Island Treasure

Lost Treasure – True Tales of Hidden Hoards

A narration on various treasures in the Americas

By A. Hyatt Verrill

Published 1930. Digitized by Doug Frizzle Jan 2011

CHAPTER XIV

The Mysterious Treasure of Oak Island

PROSPECTORS have a saying that "gold is where you find it" and the same is equally true of treasure-trove. It turns up in the most unexpected localities and under the most unexpected conditions. Of course the treasures of fiction call for deserted beaches, caves on lonely isles or caches on wave-lashed keys, with waving palms, with dark, mysterious, evil-looking villains and all the other accessories of any self-respecting treasure-trove. But in real life, as one might say, treasures have a most perverse habit of being most unconventional, and comparatively few authentic lost treasures are where the fiction writers would have them. Of course, when we come to think of it, this is quite to be expected, for sand beaches, caves and small islets are about the very worst places in which to hide treasure if the hider ever expects to return and find his treasure intact. Winds, waves and storms play havoc with sand beaches and sand dunes. Caves are easily discovered and are still more readily searched, and the smaller the area of land whereon a treasure is hidden the more easily it may be searched and the greater are the chances of some one coming upon the cache. And those who hide or rather have hidden treasures have or had no intentions of making it easy for some one else to benefit by their hoards.

While it is quite natural that the greater number of known treasures should be hidden in tropical and semitropical portions of America, the haunts of the men and people who possessed the most treasures and had the most reason for hiding them, yet many a treasure, real and imaginary, has been located far from the haunts of freebooters and conquerors, far out of the track of plate ships and galleons and, as I stated above, in the most unlikely and most un-romantic spots.

Oftentimes there is a very good reason for treasures being hidden or lost in some such locality—on the New England coast, on bleak shores in the Antarctic or elsewhere. Very often their history is well known and there is nothing mysterious nor puzzling about their presence. But now and then the reverse is the case and most fascinating conjectures may be formed as to the origin and reason for treasure hoards located where, as far as known, there never was any treasure nor any one to hide it.

This is the case with the famous Oak Island treasure, perhaps the most bafflingly mysterious treasure in the entire world, a treasure which, although known to exist, has never been recovered despite hundreds of thousands of dollars and many years having been spent in efforts to secure it; regarding which there is no plausible theory to account for its presence and which, to cap all, is undoubtedly the most remarkably concealed treasure ever known. Finally this mysterious, strange, inexplicable treasure—that might well be guarded by a Djin did we believe in such spirits—is not situated in some palm-fringed tropic land nor amid picturesque and romantic surroundings and associations, but in matter-of-fact Nova Scotia!

The history of the Oak Island treasure, as far as it is known, goes back to 1795 when three young men named Vaughan, MacGinnis and Smith—far from romantic names—started out for a day's holiday on Oak Island. In those days much of the island was uninhabited, wooded and wild, an ideal spot for three young fellows to hunt, explore and have a jolly good time by themselves. Landing in a sheltered cove in deep and calm Mahone Bay, the three started into the oak forests searching for game and adventure.

Presently, as they wandered about, they came to a spot that showed evidences of having been cleared at some time in the past. The big trees had been replaced by second growth, the earth was overgrown with weeds, shrubs and briars, and the three youths decided that it must have been the site of an Indian village. Then they noticed that near the center of the clearing there was a single gigantic oak tree standing like a sentinel above the smaller saplings, and upon approaching this patriarchal tree they discovered that its bark showed scars of ax marks that, to their imaginative eyes, appeared like numerals or marks with some meaning. Also, they found that one of the lower branches of the tree had been sawed off a few feet from the trunk and upon this was a deeply furrowed scar as if a rope or chain had been attached to it.

By now the boys were not only deeply interested in their chance discovery, but were feeling a bit uneasy and nervous. That stout, outjutting branch with the chafed marks upon its bark hinted of a gallows-tree, and in their imaginative brains they could picture a ghastly corpse swing back and forth from the sawed-off limb. It was a rather creepy, disquieting thought, there in the silent deserted forest, and the three stepped hastily back and glanced apprehensively about. And then they made another discovery. Almost directly under the lopped-off branch was a circular depression in the earth perhaps ten feet in diameter. They withdrew a bit farther, for might not that hollow mark the grave of the man who had been hanged? But Vaughan, perhaps less imaginative or more matter-of-fact than his companions, read in the gallows-like limb and the hollow in the earth a very different story. “Treasure!” he exclaimed. "Buried treasure! That's what 'tis. Maybe Captain Kidd buried his treasure here." (Vaughan, like others, associated all treasure with poor, persecuted Kidd who had never been near Nova Scotia in his life.) "See," he continued, "they used a block and tackle on the limb to hoist their treasure-chests into the hole. That's what 'tis; buried treasure."

Instantly the gallows theory was cast to the winds and the three became wildly excited. They had stumbled upon a cache of treasure they were sure, and forgetting their contemplated holiday they hurried to their boat with the idea of returning to their homes, securing picks and shovels and returning to unearth the treasure they felt sure was theirs for the digging. During their explorations, the tide had fallen, and as the three approached their boat they made another discovery. Exposed by the unusually low tide were an immense rusty iron ringbolt in a seaweed-coated rock, a ringbolt of old-fashioned design and large enough to serve as a mooring to a good-sized ship. Here was further proof of pirates' treasures, and as they searched about the three made two even more thrilling finds. One was a copper coin dated 1713, the other an old-fashioned boatswain's silver whistle. There was no longer any doubt in their minds. A vessel had been in Mahone Bay over eighty years before, a treasure had been buried under the solitary oak, and all they had to do was to come back and dig it up.

Equipped with picks and shovels, the three youths returned to their secret, spot the following day and fell lustily to work. Within a few minutes they found they were excavating in an old, clearly outlined circular shaft with walls of solid undisturbed earth in which the marks of picks and shovels could clearly be seen. Excited, now certain that they were close to riches, the three dug madly, and Smith shouted triumphantly when, ten feet below the surface, his shovel struck resonant oak boards. But when, with feverish excitement, they had uncovered the heavy planks and by their united efforts they had dragged the timbers from the earth, their faces fell. Instead of the pile of gold and silver they had expected to see disclosed, there was nothing but the same loose earth.

Still, as Vaughan pointed out, the presence of the old oak timbers proved something must be buried there and again they fell to at their labors. Five, eight, ten feet further they dug and again their picks struck wood. Once more with pounding hearts they pried the boards loose and once again found only the barren earth below.

Still they were not discouraged for, they reasoned, the treasure must be vast to have been buried so deeply and to have been so carefully protected. But when, at a depth of thirty feet, the three weary and sweating young men came upon a third oak bulkhead with nothing but earth beneath it they gave up in despair. Not that they had lost faith in the treasure, but for the simple reason that they had excavated to their unaided limit. To go deeper would require more men, blocks and tackles, winches and buckets.

They hated to tell others of their discovery, but they were by now convinced that the treasure was great enough to make a dozen men rich, and it would be far better to have a share of the treasure than none of it. But when they returned to the village and told their tale they found that the inhabitants showed no desire to join them in their treasure hunt. In fact, they did everything possible to discourage the three, and told them hair-raising tales of ghostly apparitions, mysterious, unearthly flickering lights and fearsome cries that for many years had been seen and heard in the vicinity of the sentinel oak. Not a man would consent to aid the three in their search, and at last, unable to secure reinforcements, they abandoned their idea of recovering the mysterious treasure.

For nearly ten years no one visited the spot; the three youths had almost forgotten their treasure search, when Dr. Lynds from Truro arrived at Oak Island. Somehow rumors of the trio's discovery had filtered through to Truro and Dr. Lynds, being a rather romantic soul and fond of adventure, had hurried off to the island to have a talk with Smith, Vaughan and MacGinnis. Eagerly they told him of their find and work ten years before and in company with Dr. Lynds they visited the scene of their abandoned labors.

The physician was almost as excited and interested as the three had been. He was thoroughly convinced that an immense treasure was hidden under the oak tree, and hurrying back to Truro he at once organized a company for the recovery of the treasure. Many prominent men bought shares, among them Colonel Robert Archibald, Captain David Archibald and Sheriff Harris. With the funds thus obtained a complete excavatory equipment was purchased, a gang of laborers hired, a camp established at the island, and dirt began to fly in earnest.

As the husky men dug deeper and deeper the same oak boards or other partitions were encountered at regular intervals of ten feet. One layer was of coconut-fiber matting covered with charcoal, another was of putty spread over sailcloth, and at ninety feet below the surface the laborers came to a flat slab of quarried stone three feet in length by sixteen inches in width bearing an inscription chiseled into one surface.

Unfortunately, when this had been removed and the elusive treasure was not disclosed, the slab was cast aside. Had it been preserved with care it might, undoubtedly would, have solved the baffling mystery of the treasure. To be sure, a few local people attempted to decipher the carving, but with no great success, and although one Halifax solon declared that it read "Ten feet below, two million pounds lie buried," he couldn't explain how he thus interpreted it, and his statement was regarded as largely guesswork or imagination. At all events the stone was cast aside, and one of the three original discoverers, the man Smith, took possession of it and used it as a hearthstone for the fireplace of his new house. Later it was taken to Halifax, where it still remains, and was used by a book-binder for beating leather until the inscription was entirely obliterated.

But to return to the laborers digging into the bowels of the island. At ninety-five feet they came upon still another wooden platform and then, overnight, the shaft, hitherto dry, was flooded with water to within twenty-five feet of the top. Every effort to bail out the shaft proved fruitless, and at last, convinced that such a task was hopeless, the shaft that had cost so much time and labor was abandoned and another was commenced nearby, the idea being that the water in their first pit could be drained into the second by connecting them with a tunnel, a scheme that proved that the treasure-seekers were far from competent engineers for, quite obviously, the result would have been to flood both shafts equally. This of course was precisely what happened and, moreover, the water flowed with such a rush into the new shaft that the men barely escaped with their lives. Once more the treasure hunt was abandoned. All the company's funds had been exhausted and the treasure still remained as mysterious and as safe as in the beginning.

Forty years passed by. Smith and MacGinnis had grown old and had passed away, but Dr. Lynds and Vaughan still lived, and to wondering grandchildren they related the narrative of their vain search for the mysterious treasure in their youth. The tale had become almost a legend when another company was formed, and once more the vicinity of the "Money Pit," as it was called, was alive with activity. By pumps and more modern methods than had been possible forty years earlier, the original shaft was cleared of water to a depth of eighty-six feet and all were elated when, with a rush, the water came back and put an effectual end to the work.

Then an entirely new scheme was devised. This was to bore for the treasure, to prospect for it exactly as if it had been a vein of coal or other mineral. Accordingly a strong platform was erected over the old shaft and a huge augur-drill was rigged and started on its exploratory descent. At ninety-eight feet the platform found by Dr. Lynds' diggers was again struck. Rapidly the drill penetrated the five inches of spruce timbers of which it was built, and then dropped suddenly for a foot. Then up came borings of oak, and for four inches the drill bit slowly through this. Then it slowed down and for twenty-two inches worked its way through loose metal none of which was brought up with the exception of three small gold links of a chain. Then again it penetrated eight inches of oak, then went through twenty-two inches of loose metal as before; then four inches of oak, six inches of spruce and at last into bed clay for seven feet.

Though no treasure had been obtained, every one was elated. Unquestionably the loose metal was the treasure—two great chests of it, each twenty-two inches in depth; for it was reasoned that the four inches of oak above and below the loose metal and the eight inches that separated the two lots were the tops and bottoms of oaken chests.

Moving the drill slightly to one side, a second boring was made. Once again the spruce platform was struck at ninety-eight feet. Passing through this the augur dropped about eighteen inches, and, moving with an irregular, jerky motion indicating that it was bearing against the side of some hard object, it brought up oak splinters from a cask, together with fragments of coconut-matting. For six feet this continued when the final or lowest platform was struck. Evidently, the people reasoned, there was a cask of treasure beside the chests, but as far as getting it was concerned, the treasure-seekers were no nearer success than before. Ninety odd feet of water separated them from the mysterious hoard at the bottom of the shaft.

Still, the fact that there were now tangible evidences of treasure in the pit was sufficiently encouraging to induce the company to continue work the next summer, when a third shaft was sunk to the west of the original pit. But this also was filled with water, which was salt and rose and fell with the tide. This was a discovery that elated rather than discouraged the treasure-seekers. If, they reasoned, the seepage was natural, then the men who had originally buried the treasure would have been unable to do the work. Hence it was obvious that the pirates, or whoever they were, must have arranged some entrance or tunnel from the sea for the purpose of flooding the treasure and safeguarding it. And, so the searchers reasoned, the original owners must have arranged some means for drawing off or stopping the water, for otherwise they never could have recovered the treasure themselves.

Careful search was made along the shore, and close to the spot where the ringbolt was secured in the rock, a bed of brown fiber—probably coconut-matting—was uncovered, and under this a mass of small rocks unlike the surrounding gravel. This, it was decided, was the hidden mouth of the tunnel that led the water to the pit and this supposition was borne out when, upon removing the rocks, a series of drains of carefully cut and laid stone were uncovered. It was then decided to build a coffer-dam about the spot, but before this was completed there was an abnormally high tide and the dam collapsed. Still undismayed, the tenacious treasure-seekers commenced a third shaft, intending to cut into the drains and thus dam the inlet from the shore. But the guardian spirit of the mysterious hoard was not to be so easily conquered. One disaster after another beset the workmen; shafts caved in or were filled with water, and at last the final funds were expended in purchasing a powerful pump and engine. But the more water pumped out the more came in, and in the end all work was abandoned and the treasure was left undisturbed.

Another forty years passed by. Earth and debris had almost filled the shafts, and grass and weeds grow over the piles of excavated material. All those who had tried their hands at the former treasure hunts had died; but there were records on file, and in 1896 Oak Island again echoed to the sounds of pick, shovel, hammer and anvil, the clank of pumps and (lie hubbub of a mining camp. Once more the mysterious treasure had lured men to put money into a new venture, and as all were confident that modern methods and machinery could succeed where all others had failed, there was no lack of funds forthcoming, and shares in the new company were in great demand.

This time up-to-date methods were to be used; competent engineers were employed, all the latest mechanical devices were installed, and work was begun in earnest. Almost twenty shafts were sunk in a circle about the now historic Money Pit, and a network of tunnels were driven between them, the idea being to intercept the underground inlet from the sea and also to drain the original shaft. Thousands of feet of planking and timber were used, hundreds of pounds of dynamite were employed, for the new shafts and tunnels were constructed like those of a real mine. But modern devices, engineering skill, up-to-date machinery, all failed to disclose the secret of the strange hiding place devised and carried out by some unknown, mysterious humans of bygone days. The company's funds were exhausted, and the guardian spirits must have chortled with demoniacal glee as they watched the disappointed and bankrupt treasure-seekers depart.

But their work had not been entirely barren of results. At a depth of one hundred and twenty-six feet the drill had passed through oak and had brought up chips, only to strike solid metal upon which the drill made no impression. A smaller drill was started at one side, and at one hundred and fifty-three feet below the surface it passed through a seven-inch layer of cement or mortar covering an oak platform beneath which was soft, loose metal. None of this, supposedly gold coins, was brought up, but the drill did bring up a fragment of parchment bearing illegible words in writing, only a single syllable of which, a "VI" or "WI" could be deciphered. Moreover, these borings had located seven chests or casks containing loose metal. Yet in all this time, during the entire century of treasure-seeking and the expenditure of over one hundred thousand dollars, not a single dollar's worth of treasure (if we except the three links of a watch chain) had been recovered from this incredibly mysterious treasure.

From time to time, efforts were continued to recover the hoard, and for all I know there may be men working to-day at the Money Pit on Oak Island. Even if the spot is deserted the visitor can find plenty of evidences of the work that has been carried on in the past. Everywhere are the mounds of excavated dirt and gravel, the dark, water-filled pits, the caved-in tunnels and shafts, the abandoned rusty tools and machines, the weather-beaten timbers and boards and, more than one hundred and fifty feet below the surface of the scarred and pitted ground, lip the chests and casks of the mysterious, inexplicable treasure.

Who could have buried the hoard in that out-of-the-way northern spot? Who could have had the lime, the men, the patience and the skill to have devised such a strange, efficacious and remarkable hiding place! Who could have dug a shaft for a depth of more than one hundred and fifty feet, connected it by a subterranean tunnel with the sea and have gone to such prodigious labor as to protect the treasure by more than a dozen layers of planks, limbers, cement, iron and other materials?

No one can offer a suggestion, no one can form a theory or an hypothesis that is tenable. If pirates buried the treasure, who were they, what were they doing in Nova Scotia, and why should they have buried the treasure in such a way that it would have been a tremendous, an almost impossible task to recover it? Yet who but pirates could have possessed such treasure in such a place? Some wild theories have been suggested. The treasure of Oak Island has been linked with the famous Cocos Island treasure, the treasure of Lima, but it is a far cry from the Pacific to Nova Scotia and with many a better hiding-place en route why should those who made off with the Lima treasure have taken the trouble to sail to the shores of Canada and there secrete their loot by such elaborate means? Moreover, the Oak Island treasure had been known and sought for years before the Lima treasure was taken to sea.

Others have linked the Oak Island treasure with the almost legendary though historically authentic eleven millions which the Jesuits had when they were expelled from Peru. But the Jesuits did not take their treasure with them; they did not visit Nova Scotia, and the date of the coin found on the Oak Island beach—although perhaps having no connection with the treasure—would place the date as later than 1715.

I doubt if there is a pirate or buccaneer of note whose name has not been suggested as the owner of this baffling treasure hoard; and yet there is not the slightest reason for suspecting that any of them had any connection with it. Neither Morgan, Montbars, nor any of the famous old buccaneers ever cruised or sailed within a thousand miles of Nova Scotia. None of the later pirates, who at times frequented the north Atlantic and the New England coast, had either the money, the time, the men or the ability to place such a hoard in such a place. They were mere pikers of pirates, little more than ocean-going pickpockets—Fly, Gibbs, Wamsley, Morley and their ilk, and their careers were brief, hectic and not one of them ever secured enough loot to be worth hiding.

Moreover, it is obvious that whoever placed the treasure at the bottom of that deep pit on Oak Island, and deliberately flooded the shaft, had no intentions ever of recovering it. Whoever buried it there buried it for all time, to be utterly beyond reach, and so far their efforts have met with entire success.

No doubt, with modern caissons and machinery, with the expenditure of a good-sized sum, and with competent engineers in charge, the Oak Island treasure could be recovered in a short time. As an engineering feat it is a simple matter. For a caisson to go down one hundred and fifty feet is nothing; but would the treasure thus recovered pay for the expenses? Who can say? Perhaps there are millions in gold, silver and gems in those oaken chests and casks at the bottom of the shafts—surely no one would have gone to such trouble to have concealed anything short of millions! Even if the monetary reward fell short of expectations, it would be a fascinating undertaking, a romantic and thrilling adventure to solve the mystery of the Oak Island treasure, for, undoubtedly, somewhere in those deeply buried chests and casks are the keys to the mystery of this most mysterious of all treasures.