The boat approached the country. The bay of the bay rested in front of the arrivals, and the torrential place at the bottom of the bay, where there was no white foam, showed the point where the mouth of the small river falling into the sea was; The denser growth of the forests and the darker greenery showed the river running through the distant hills.
The forest stretched right up to the beach. The hills and the contours of the clouds rose at a distance from the mountains as if they were suddenly frozen waves. The sea was at the base, only the waves moved quietly. The sun was burning hot.
The man sitting in the air dropped his rowing. “Here somewhere it should be,” he said. He pulled the oars into the boat and put his hand straight ahead.
The other man sitting in the chef looked closely at the ground. He had a yellow paper leaf on his knees.
“Come and see this, Evans,” he said.
Both men talked quietly and their lips were hard and dry.
The man named Evans came to the cheek, until he could see his comrades over the shoulder.
The paper resembled a clumsily drawn map. From a lot of pocket-carrying it had worn out of its slots, and the man held the faded pieces in pieces where they had left. It might have been poorly distinguished from the extremities of the bay in almost puckered pencil lines.
“Here,” said Evans, “is a place of rush, and there’s a mouth of the river.”
He carried his thumb along the map.
“This cumbersome line is a river – I would like to get it into my mouth – and this star points to a place.”
“You see that dotted line in that,” said the man holding the map. “It is a straight line running from the opening of the reef to the palm group. The star is where this line cuts the river. We need to take note of the place when we count down to the shore.”
“What miracles do these small lines below mean?” said Evans. “It seems to be like the floor plan of a building or something like that. But what those little drawings drawn by the pigs are like, I don’t understand. And what does that script mean?”
“It’s a Chinese language,” explained the man holding the map.
“Naturally,” said Evans. “He was Chinese.”
“They were all Chinese,” he said.
Both sat for a moment and stared at the land, on which the boat slowly crawled. Then Evans looked at the oars.
“Now it’s your turn to ride, Hooker,” he said.
The partner quietly rolled the paper, put it in his pocket, gently stepped past Evans and started rowing. His movements were tired like a man whose powers are almost at the end of his life.
Evans sat half-eyed and watched the coral reef’s white whitish scar, which was slowly approaching. The sky was like a fire, because the sun was half-hour high.
Even though they were so close to the treasure, he did not feel the joy he had been waiting for. Infinite excitement in the struggle before they had taken over the drawing of the station, and a long night’s journey from the mainland to the open boat, and the snack had taken her away. In order to get a more cheerful mood, he tried to attach his thoughts to the gold bars that the Chinese had spoken, but the mind did not stay in them; The regular splash of the sea against the coral reef began to sound, and it did good to his ears. The water liris along the boat docks, and the oars dropped it between the pulls. He fell into some kind of half-horizon.
He saw the island still dimly, but the strange sleep wandered into the senses of his senses. It was once again the night he and Hooker had invented the Chinese secret; he saw kuunvalaisemat trees, a small campfire and dark three Chinese characters – the other side of the moonlight hopeahohteen, the other around the campfire red loimon, enlightened – and heard their mongertavan bad English language – because they were from different provinces. Hooker had first reached their voice and referred to him to listen. Partly it was impossible to hear the debate, partly because it was incomprehensible. The Spanish ship sailed from the Philippines at the bottom of the sea, its treasures hiding until the day of judgment – the background to the story; shipwrecked crew, scarce, ill-fated, inadequate discipline, finally leaving the ship with boats, none of which has heard anything about it. Then there was Chang-hi just a year ago, walking along the coast, accidentally finding those gold ingots hiding in the couple of hundred years, had left his dshonkkin [Chinese three-mast sailboat, wide and short, cook and stern high] and bothered them to sleep on their own alone, but very sure place. He pointed out, in particular, the security of the cache, which was his secret. Now he needed help to get them out of there. Suddenly a small map appeared, and the voices were silent. – – Nice story for the two empty pocket collectors in England! – Then sleep led Evans to the moment he held Chang-hi’s braid in his hand. The Chinese spirit does not mean as much as the European. Chang-hi small The luscious face, who were first bold and furious as a surprised serpent, then fearful, cunning and praying, became more and more clear asleep. Finally, Chang-hi grimaced – it was an inconceivable and creepy grim. All of a sudden, everything became very obscene and disgusting, as often happens in sleep, Chang-hi laughs at the racket and threatened him. He was dreaming of big gold coins and how Chang-hi came and tried to pull him out of them. He grabbed Chang-hi’s bang – how thick that yellow beast was, and how it shook and grimaced! It also became larger and larger. Then those brilliant gold buds turned into a burning dungeon, and a great devil, astonishingly Chang-hi’s, except that he had a thick, black tail, started feeding him with charcoal. Another devil cried out shouting at his name: “Evans, Evans, you’re a fool!” – Hookerko shouted?
He woke up. They were at the mouth of the shore.
“There are the three palm trees there. They’re on the same line as the bush,” said his comrades. “Get along! When we get to those shrubs and we go straight to the woods, we’ll arrive as soon as we arrive at the river.”
They saw the mouth of the river now. That vision brought life to Evans.
“Souda firm,” he said, “in the name of heaven, or else I have to open sea water!”
He squeezed his hand to the fist and stared at the silver trowel, which sparkled on the cliffs of the rocks and green shrubs. Suddenly he turned over to Hooker.
“Give me Soudan!” he said.
They arrived at the mouth of the river. When he had traveled a little way up, Hooker took his water, nourished it, and spat back. After a while, he was eating again. “Already good,” he said, and they began to draw water quickly into their mouths.
“Thousands of newcomers,” said Evans, “this is going too slow!” And leaning over to the dangerous position over the side of the boat, he began to suck water.
Suddenly, they sensed the drink, directed their boats to a small side purse, and intended to land a dense scrub that hanged over the brook over the brook.
“We have to penetrate this to the sea, so we can find our shrub and the right direction.”
“It’s better to ride around,” said Hooker.
So they rode back to the river and from the sea to the place where the shrub group grew. There they rose to the ground, pulled their light boat far to the beach and then walked to the corner of the bush until the reef opening and the bush came to the same straight line. Evans had taken the boat with an indigenous workstation that was L-shaped and had a cross-section covered with polished stones. Hooker had an oar.
“This is exactly the direction we need to go,” he said, “going through this until we meet the river; then we have to look around.”
They stepped into a dense jungle, where they grew up with reeds, ferns and young trees. In the beginning there was a passion, but gradually the trees became bigger and the land below them. The hot sunshine turned into a bleak roar. The trees finally turned into green poles, whose tops formed a green canopy above them. White flowers were hanging on the trunks, and the Climbing Plants fell from wood to wood like ropes. The shadow deepened its deepening. There were fungi and some reddish brown plants on the ground.
Evans shivered. “Here it seems almost cold after the recent heat,” he said.
“I hope we are on the right track,” said Hooker.
Suddenly, they saw an opening in front of which a bright daylight penetrated the forest. There was also a brilliant green scrub and brightly colored flowers. Then they heard the water lirin.
“There’s a river here!” exclaimed Hooker. “We’ve got the point.”
The river was lush with vegetation. Large, unfamiliar and anonymous herbs grew on the roots of the mighty trees, spreading the rosy greens on the light of their fan. The wide, calm water surface that the treasure hunters now looked at, floated with thick, oval leaves and tangles, reddish-white flowers, like water lilies. Further on, where the river made its knee, there was a water surface covered with foam, and there was noise from the rapids.
“Well?” said Evans.
“We have slightly deviated from the direction,” said Hooker. “That’s what I expected.”
He turned and looked back at the dark, cool shadow of the silent forest.
“If we go down the river a little up or down, we’ll find a place,” he said.
“You said – -“, Evans begged.
“He said there was a dagger,” said Hooker.
The men looked at each other’s eyes.
“Then let’s go down the test first,” said Evans.
They walked slowly forward, staring at the greedy eyes.
Evans stopped suddenly.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
Hooker followed his eyes with his hand.
“Something blue,” he said.
They had noticed it as a small ghost. Gradually it was possible to distinguish what it was.
They struggled to step on until they saw it completely. Evans’s hand squeezed the workpiece that he had with him.
The object they saw was a Chinese man lying at his mouth in the country. He was dead, it couldn’t be mistaken.
The men retreated closer to each other and stared at that creepy, lifeless body. It stood in the open spot between the trees. In the vicinity, there was a Chinese-style shovel and a fragmented stone patch next to a newly dug pit.
“It’s been here before us,” said Hooker with an uncertain voice.