The Golden Magnet Part 1

The Golden Magnet.

by George Manville Fenn.

CHAPTER ONE.

INTRODUCTORY.

Daybreak in the Incas' realm on the far western sh.o.r.es, known to our fathers as the great wonderland--the great country discovered by adventurous mariners, and thought of, dreamed of, seen through a golden mist raised by the imagination--a mist which gave to everything its own peculiar hue; and hence the far-off land was whispered of as "El Dorado," the gilded, "the Golden Americas," and the country whose rivers ran over golden sand, whose rocks were veined with the coveted ore; and nations vied with each other in seeking to humble the haughty Spaniard, whose enterprise had gained him the strongest footing in the coveted region.

Daybreak at Tehutlan, the Incas' city, in the year 1533, and the peaks of the mighty mountains that appeared to pierce the bright blue sky, appearing to bear out the fabulous belief of the eastern lands, for their icy summits glowed, and flushed, and sparkled in the rays of the sun, which gilded every pinnacle and turned each glacier into a river of gold, seeming to flow slowly downwards towards the vales and plains of the Andes, as yet flooded with the darkness of the night.

But soon the purple flood of darkness began to give place to golden light, as, still streaming down, as it were, from the mountain tops, the suns.h.i.+ne leaped in bright cataracts from point to point, rus.h.i.+ng up this dark gully, that vast fissure, turning gloom into glowing landscape, and at last filling the vast vales with gladness and life, as the glowing picture burst into full beauty.

Here, at the foot of the mountains, flowed the mighty rivers of South America, bordered by the vast, eternal tropic forest, with its dank, steaming moisture--the home of the fierce beast, the loathsome reptile, and insect plagues innumerable. Far up the mountains was the land of ice and snow, fierce biting wind, and sleety tempest, with here and there patches of verdure, the pastoral land of the vicuna and llama flocks; but in the intermediate s.p.a.ce, balanced, as it were, between the tropical heat and the wintry frosts, on the table-lands half-way up the mountains, was the stronghold of the Peruvian civilisation. So near to the equator that intolerable heat might have been expected, an expectation, though, not fulfilled, for the elevation gave to the Peruvians a glorious climate, with all the brightness but none of the enervation of equatorial land.

Cottage, house, and palace, of no mean construction, were scattered here and there, the homes of peasant and Peruvian n.o.ble. But it was upon the temple crowning a near elevation that the eye would rest, in rapt astonishment at its magnificence and grandeur. The description may sound like a sc.r.a.p from some eastern fable, but none the less it is a fact culled from the pages of history.

For as that bright morning sun peered at length above the shoulder of an eastern hill, it was to s.h.i.+ne full upon the Temple of the Sun and its glorious gardens.

Gold--gold everywhere--gold and precious stones. Fronting the great entrance, and ready to receive its first beams, was a golden representation of the sun itself--a vast golden face surrounded by rays stretching out in every direction--vast, ma.s.sive, and glowing effulgently, reflecting back the sun's rays, and lighting the interior of the gold-decked temple.

For there was no paltry gilding here, but ma.s.sive golden cornice, frieze, plate, stud, and boss ornamenting the ma.s.sive walls--glistening, sparkling, and flas.h.i.+ng back the sun's light, while, as if these were not sufficient, emeralds and other precious stones were lavishly spread in further ornamentation, adding their l.u.s.trous sheen to the warm glow already diffused through the magnificent building. Flash, sparkle-- glistening streams of golden light, dancing like golden water upon the gorgeous walls, gilding even those who entered, so that face and garments were bathed and dyed in the glorious radiance, till the eye of the beholder ached, and the darkened intellects of the simple Peruvians might well believe that they were in the presence of the sun-G.o.d himself.

But not only was gold lavished upon the stone building, even to adorning its outer walls with a broad belt of the precious metal--solid, ma.s.sive, and magnificently wrought; but the implements and vessels of the temple were of the yellow treasure. Huge vases stood upon the floor filled with the produce of their land--offerings to the sun; perfume-censers, water-cruses, cistern-pipes, reservoirs, all were of the rich, ruddy metal.

The Peruvians called the ore in their language of imagery "the tears wept by the sun;" and these tears they toiled to gather, and their artificers worked them up with a cunning skill under the direction of the priests; and, as if to complete the wonders of the temple, and to give it adornments that should never lose their l.u.s.tre, never fade, it was surrounded by an Aladdin-like garden whose plants were gold--golden of leaf, silver of stem, and with flowers sparkling in combinations of the two metals. Fountains of gold cast up golden water to fall back in golden basins--a mimic spray; and even then fresh objects of the goldsmith's skill were seen in the golden-fleeced llamas grouped around.

But the glory of the Incas was pa.s.sing. After a long period of prosperity the evil days were at hand, the wondrous barbaric civilisation was about to be swept away; for the adventurous Spaniard, moved by his thirst for the gold, of whose existence rumour had from time to time told him, was now in the land. The simple people, coasting along in their light balsas or rafts, had seen the coming of what to them were then wondrous s.h.i.+ps, c.o.c.k-boats, though, as compared even to our collier brigs. War and rapine were in the land; the arms of the Spaniards--the thunder and lightning they bore with them in their guns-- were everywhere victorious, and the riches of the temples were seized; gloriously wrought vessels were hastily molten down into ingots, along with plate, s.h.i.+eld, and wonderfully-worked flowers; rapacity was triumphant, and upon one occasion the value of the treasure collected and melted down into bars was computed at three millions and a half pounds sterling of our money.

The temples and their adornments were many and held sacred by the people, a sanct.i.ty they had ventured to hope would be observed by the conquerors; but the delusion was of short duration. The coming of a body of Spaniards was the signal for the stripping of each gorgeous building. Sacred vessel and ornament were seized upon and borne off; but the news was spread from temple to temple, from priest to priest, through the length and breadth of the land by means of swift-footed couriers, not by written letter, neither by word of mouth, but by means of a fringe of cords tied in knots, each knot and its place having its particular signification.

The alarm spread, and the day of evil being upon them--their sun-G.o.ds giving no sign of crus.h.i.+ng the profane intruders--the priests looked upon it as a sign of wrath and punishment; and sooner than their treasure should fall into the hands of the fierce, remorseless conquerors, eagerly stripped their temples themselves, and in remote hiding-places, with many a mysterious rite, re-committed the gold to its parent earth, binding all who beheld by the most fearful bonds never to reveal the treasure-places to the conquerors, but to wait for the great day when the ancient glory of Peru should be revived, when the Incas should reign once more, and their religion flourish, ere the sacred treasures were disinterred.

But that day came not. European civilisation began to take the place of that of the Incas, a new form of religion flourished, and from being monarchs in the country the Peruvians became the slaves, the hewers of wood and drawers of water of a new race. Generations came and generations died out, and the years still rolled on till ages pa.s.sed away; but though poor and degraded, the priestly caste existed still amongst the Indians, and from father to son was the great secret handed down in village after village, the idea of appropriating to their own use the buried treasures never once being dreamed of; but, with the wealth of princes scattered here and there throughout the country, the Indians watched over the treasures still, and handed down the secret to their children.

Some were discovered by stratagem, others by treachery, others, again, by accident; and while the exact bearings of the places were mostly well remembered, others died out of the memory of those to whose trust they had been committed, or in some cases died with them. But to this day it is believed that vast stores of the precious metal still lie waiting the hand of the discoverer, the barbaric relics of a fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y religion, the creed of an idolatrous people; and many an explorer unrewarded has wasted his days amidst the traces of the ruined temples and tokens of a grand civilisation, scattered here and there amidst the forests and mountain fastnesses of the mighty Andes.

CHAPTER TWO.

AFTER THREE AGES.

Perhaps it was with reading _Robinson Crusoe_ and _Sindbad the Sailor_-- I don't know, but I always did have a hankering after going abroad.

Twopence was generally the extent of my supply of hard cash, so I used to get dreaming about gold, and to think that I had only to be wrecked upon some rocky sh.o.r.e to find the remains of a Spanish galleon freighted with gold in doubloons, and bars, and ingots, a prize to which I could lay claim, and be rich for ever after.

Now, with such ideas as these in my head, I ask anybody, was it likely that I could take to soap-boiling?

That was my father's business, and he was very proud of his best and second quality yellow, and his prime hard mottled. He had made a comfortable living out of it, as his father and grandfather had before him, helping to cleanse no end of people in their time; but I thought then, as I think now, that it was a nasty unpleasant business, whose odour is in my nostrils to the present day.

"You're no good, Harry," said my father, "not a bit, and unless you sink that tin-pot pride of yours, and leave off wandering about and wearing out your boots, and take off your coat and go to work, you'll never get a living. You've always got your nose stuck in a book--such tras.h.!.+ Do you ever see me over a book unless it's a daybook or ledger, eh?"

My father had no sooner done speaking than my mother shook her head at me, and I went and stood out in the yard, leaning my back up against one of the great tallow hogsheads, and thought.

It only took me five minutes to make up my mind, for the simple reason that it was already seven-eighths on the way, this not being the first time by many a score that my father had given me his opinion respecting my future prospects in life; and as I neared twenty such opinions used to seem to grit in amongst my mental works, while the longer I lived the more I thought that I should never get my livelihood by soap-boiling.

Well, my mind was made up most stubbornly that I would go out to Uncle Reuben.

Just then, as I stood moodily there, I heard the sound of a scuffle and a sharp smack, and directly after, one of our lads, a young fellow of my own age Tom Bulk by name, came hurriedly out of the kitchen door, rubbing the side of his red face, but only to drop his hand the moment he caught sight of me leaning against the tallow-tub.

"What's the matter, Tom?" I said, though I knew well enough that Tom was in hot water.

"Got a flea in my ear, Mas'r Harry," he said, with a grin of vexation.

"I caught it in the kitchen."

"So have I, Tom," I said bitterly; "but I caught mine in the parlour."

"Mas'r been rowing you agen, sir?"

"Yes, Tom," I said drearily, "and it's for the last time. If I'm no good I may as well be off. I can't take to our business."

"Well, tain't so sweet as it used to be, sir; and it don't seem right that, to make other folks clean, we should allers be in a greasy mess.

But what are you going to do, Mas'r Harry?" he said anxiously.

"Going abroad, Tom."

"So am I, Mas'r Harry."

"You, Tom?"

"Sure I am, Mas'r Harry, if you are," said Tom; and then and there he pulled off his great, greasy leather ap.r.o.n and soapy white slop, and fetched his s.h.i.+ny jacket out of the boiling-house. "I'm ready, Mas'r Harry," he exclaimed, as he fought hard to get one arm properly into his sleeve, but had to try again and again, because the b.u.t.ton was off the wristband of his s.h.i.+rt, and the sleeve kept slipping up to his shoulder, necessitating a fresh attempt.

I burst out laughing at him, as I saw the earnest way in which he took my announcement; but the more I laughed the more solid Tom became, as he worked his body into his old coat, and then proceeded to b.u.t.ton it right up to the chin, slapping himself several times upon the chest to settle a wrinkle here and there, and ending by spitting in his hands, and looking at me as much as to say, "Where's boxes, Mas'r Harry? Let's be off."

"Watcher larfin' at, Mas'r Harry?" he said at last.

"At you, Tom," I replied.

"All right, Mas'r Harry," he replied in the most philosophical way, "larfin' don't cost nothing, and it's very pleasant, and it don't matter when it's them as you know; but when it comes to somebody you don't know, why then it riles."

I turned serious on the instant.

"Do you know what you are talking about, Tom?" I said.

"Sure I do, Mas'r Harry. Talkin' 'bout going abroad."

"But where?"