Ramage scribbled it down, and read the fourth line, adding, " 'A tree above' could also mean 'underneath a tree', or in the shade of it."
"What have we got now, sir?" Southwick said, running his hands through his white hair. "My memory isn't very good for poetry."
Ramage continued changing a word here and there for a moment, then said: "How does this sound?
"Well, we can hear the sea," he continued. "Then we have to remember this chap - presumably remember his treasure. Then 'three by three', or 'three times three'. Trees in three groups of three ... A hill with three groups of three big rocks on its slope - plenty around here, I've noticed ... Three groups of three peaks among the hills?"
"Not trees, surely," Southwick said. "They grow quickly or get blown away in a hurricane. Or burned down - I've seen traces of big fires here, probably started by lightning. And hills - they're not precise enough."
"Not trees," Yorke echoed. "Too obvious. The family here who knew the rhyme would have spotted anything like that. They've probably been looking for a trio of anything for a century or more."
"Can you hear the sea from where the Spanish party was digging when Jackson found them?" Bowen asked.
"Barely," Ramage said. "On a still night with a heavy swell on the reefs..."
"So either the Spanish don't realize the significance of 'The sound of the sea', sir, or they discount it," Bowen said.
"Yes, but obviously they have plenty of time. I didn't ask this fellow Colon how long he expected to be here, but the provisions ship is due monthly. Now, we have enough slaves to make up five parties of four. Plus four seamen to each party. And one officer."
By the time they went to bed the leadership of each party had been decided. At dawn next day they marched out along the track towards the camp. Ramage had decided to continue in that direction because Colon had covered all the flat areas flanking the track from San Ildefonso to the point where he was captured.
By nightfall the parties had returned to report that they had dug an average of twelve trenches each and found no sign of anything.
"Sixty damned trenches," Ramage said crossly to Southwick, "and not a trace ..."
"Don't think of it like that," the Master said soothingly. "It means three hundred and sixty a week which is about a year's effort for that Spanish lieutenant."
Southwick's mathematics were comforting, but whoever buried the treasure did not envisage scores of men digging for weeks: he meant someone who learnt the poem and solved its riddle to be able to go straight to the treasure.
At supper that evening he discussed the day's digging with the other men. He felt they did not share his sense of urgency; to them three weeks seemed time enough. It probably was but, as he pointed out to Yorke, "We can't be sure a ship won't arrive unexpectedly. If it does we have to capture it, and if it's suitable, sail away in it, treasure or no treasure."
"We ought to proceed with scientific precision," Yorke said mockingly. "If one or two people who know the poem just walked around the island looking for possible sites and checking the 'three by three' part, we might save a great deal of time and effort."
After supper when the table had been cleared, Ramage spread out some paper and made a rough sketch of the section of Snake Island he already knew. He shaded in the area the men had worked on during the day, and those where Colon's men had been unsuccessful.
"Which would you prefer?" he asked Yorke. "Search or dig?"
"Search!" Yorke said promptly.
For three days they searched the island, Ramage taking Jackson, Yorke accompanied by Stafford and Bowen with Rossi. Slowly they worked their way over the lower foothills on the east and north-east sides of the island. From Cabeza de Perro, the headland on the east side of where the rafts had landed, Ramage was sure they were getting warm: just opposite, half a mile away, was a small island, Culebrita, with another to the north-west. There were two sections of beach which fishermen obviously used as landing places, and there were several flat areas like platforms close by in the low hills. But there was nothing near the platforms that answered the "three by three" description.
Late in the evening Ramage and Yorke were sitting on the low wall outside their house and looking down at the reflection of the stars on the mirror-like surface of the bay.
"It could take a year," Yorke said.
"It could," Ramage said stubbornly. "But that wasn't the intention of whoever hid the treasure."
"I've been trying to picture him," Yorke said. "After all, who buries treasure, and why?"
"People like us a century or so ago."
"How do you mean?" Yorke asked, and suddenly sprang up and gave a bow. "Madame."
Maxine had walked to the wall from her parents' house.
"Are you talking about affairs of state, or may I sit and listen?"
Yorke left Ramage to reply.
"You are always welcome; I'll get you a chair."
She gestured for him to remain seated. "I will sit on the wall with you."
She sat between them and arranged her skirt. Then she turned to Ramage and gave an impish smile.
"We're trying to look into the mind of the corsair who buried the treasure," Ramage said.
"How fascinating. Please continue, I shall feel important if I can help."
They had been talking for several minutes when Maxine asked Ramage to repeat the clue. When he had done so she commented: "I would expect five lines. Peut-être ... did someone forget a line?"
"By jingo!" Yorke exclaimed. "I think she's right."
And Ramage knew she was. Colon had fooled him.
"If you'll excuse me for a few minutes," he said.
He collected Jackson and Stafford, gave them instructions and took them to the hut being used as a prison. In a sudden fit of pique Colon had refused to give his parole, so Ramage had to keep him locked up and guarded.
Jackson led the way, carrying a lantern, reassured the sentry and followed Ramage into the room.
Colon, eyes blinking in the light, looked wary.
"The poem," Ramage said abruptly. "You forgot to tell me one of the lines. I hope you made no other mistakes."
Colon shook his head. "I told you everything."
"I saved your life," Ramage said.
"Do you usually murder prisoners?"
"Listen carefully," Ramage said, not troubling to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Since the Inquisition, you people have had a bad reputation where prisoners are concerned. Now, think like a man. If I fell into your colonel's hands, and he discovered I knew a poem which was the clue to the whereabouts of a treasure trove ... you know what he would do!"
"He would behave like a gentleman."
"Rubbish!" Ramage exclaimed angrily. "He would torture me, and you know it - just as the Intendente tortured that family in the first place. You can even guess how he would torture me!"
Colon's silence told Ramage he had been lucky in choosing the Colonel as an example.
"Now," Ramage said ominously, "all I have to do is to imitate the Colonel. Then you can have no complaints."
Colon was beginning to perspire. Tiny beads of sweat mottled his brow and upper lip. His eyes jerked from side to side so much that Jackson stood with his back to the door.
"Send these men outside so that I can talk!" Colon whispered.
"They speak no Spanish."
"How can I be sure of that?"
"You can't," Ramage said unsympathetically. "You have to take my word for it."
"I will tell you," Colon said. "I told all of it except for the first line."
"Well, go on," Ramage said when the Spaniard paused, and then saw he was concentrating, as if anxious to get it right this time.