"The point beyond Chico?"
"Ah," the Spaniard said, with the pride of a shopkeeper displaying an item he knows a wealthy customer will not only admire but buy at the right price. "That is Punta Melones and in line beyond it, the most distant of all, Punta del Soldado."
"Beautiful," Ramage said.
The fisherman turned to the north, pointing to his right. "Tamarindo Grande," he announced. Ramage nodded appreciatively and, turning to Yorke, said in English: "Any comments on the scenery?"
"Yes. For what it's worth, Tamarindo Grande, the Melon - or whatever it was the fellow called it - and Punto del Soldado are in line. Two miles from each other and a geometrically precise straight line passes through the western tip of each one."
"And that," Ramage said, "seems to put paid to our 'three by three'."
Yorke shrugged his shoulders.
The fisherman had walked fifty yards away and was beginning to pull the long, flat pods from the tamarinds, crack them open and shake the seeds into his sack.
Ramage and Yorke looked around the short headland. There was a scattering of trees, the most prominent being a tall, lacy-leaved casuarina, and they strolled towards it.
"Seven trees," Yorke said. "The significant thing is that seven has no possible connection with three, or three times three!"
"I know," Ramage said. "I'm getting to the point where things only exist for me if they're in multiples of three."
Yorke laughed and bent down to pick up a large sea shell. It was sun-bleached and worn by the sea and the sand.
"How do these things get up here?"
"Birds, probably," Ramage said. "They find them alive and bring 'em ashore to eat the animal inside."
"It's a pretty shell."
"A flame helmet."
"What is?" Yorke asked in surprise.
"That shell. A type of conch - you've seen the natives eating the Queen conchs. They cut a small slot here" - he pointed to one end - "and that severs the animal's anchor so they can pull it out. The birds haven't learned the trick. This one is a cousin of the Queen conch. You can see it's shaped something like a helmet."
"Haven't seen one before," Yorke said, turning it in his hand. "I'll take this one back and present it to Madame."
The fisherman joined them, his sack of seeds slung over his shoulder.
"You take him back with you," Ramage said. "Jackson and I will just have a look over the other two Tamarinds."
Yorke said doubtfully: "I've got a feeling the trio of tamarinds is just a coincidence."
Ramage grimaced. "We might as well clutch at a tamarind as a straw..."
With that Yorke, Stafford and the fisherman began the long walk back to the camp while Ramage and Jackson went northwards to Tamarindo Grande. It was barren; just a few trees and boulders. Then they walked back past Punta Tamarindo to Tamarindo Chico.
Jackson kicked a small stone in anger.
"It isn't as though the Spaniards deserve to find it, sir!"
"No more or less than us," Ramage said mildly.
"I suppose not. Do the admirals get a share, sir?"
That's an interesting point, Ramage thought. "I've no idea. Probably not treated like prize money."
"But it's the same thing, isn't it, sir?"
"It most certainly isn't! Only a ship can be condemned as a prize. You wouldn't get a penn'orth of prize money for capturing this island, for instance."
"Not even a reward, sir?" Jackson asked hopefully.
"You might get something. Don't spend it until you've received it though, just in case!"
In silence the men started back to the village.
As he walked down the slope to the houses Ramage heard the sound of women's laughter and found Yorke and St Cast sitting with the St Brieucs on the balcony of their house.
Maxine waved gaily when she saw Ramage and beckoned to him to join them. He would have preferred to go to his own room and sit alone for an hour or two: the visit to Punta Tamarindo was a bigger disappointment than he cared to admit. He'd spent the night and all the time they were walking there thinking that the three headlands called tamarind must fit the poem. His hopes had strengthened when he found three headlands in line, and now he felt flat. His feet were sore from the long walk; his eyes ached from the sun's glare; his mouth was dry and gritty from the dusty tracks, and mosquitoes and sandflies had bitten him freely.
"Come!" Maxine called "We have limonade ready for you."
As she stood facing him, her eyes sparkling and her hands outstretched, he wanted to take her in his arms. Instead he climbed the steps to the balcony, bowed to the St Brieucs and nodded to the others.
"Such a long face!" Maxine exclaimed.
"Someone knocked his sand-castle down!" Yorke said.
Maxine looked puzzled. "Sand-castle?"
"Mr Yorke likes talking in riddles."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Alors - he has given me a beautiful present."
Ramage was jealous but said quickly: "Don't tell me what it is - I'll guess. Now, let me see - a coronet studded with diamonds and rubies?"
She shook her head and laughed. "Not exactly."
"A tiara, then - of gold, mounted with a huge emerald and one hundred perfect pearls."
She shook her head again. "No, it is much more beautiful."
"A miniature of me."
She laughed so loudly her mother looked shocked and her father delighted. St Brieuc glanced at Ramage, as if encouraging him to go on making her laugh; she needed to laugh much more.
"That would be 'a pearl beyond price' - isn't that how you say it? No, it is a sea shell."
She waved the flame helmet which Yorke had cleaned and polished.
"It is wonderful - look, if I hold it to my ear I can hear the sea!"
Ramage froze for a moment, and then reached out for it.
"Give it to me please," he said harshly.
He put the open part of the shell to his ear and sure enough there was a hollow noise, like breakers on a distant beach. Even as he listened, he saw the startled look on Yorke's face give way to deep thought and that in turn was replaced by an almost disbelieving grin.
Before either of them could say anything, St Brieuc whispered, "That's it, 'The sound of the sea...’”
Then Maxine, who had been startled by Ramage snatching the shell from her, gave a quick curtsey and said, "A shell without price, anyway!"
They all laughed and for several minutes they chattered excitedly, passing the shell from one to another. As they talked Ramage kept trying to fit this particular shell into the hunt for the treasure.
St Brieuc put it into words, saying in his quick yet authoritative voice: "We must not forget this is only one shell. I presume that there are thousands more in the sea."
And they all looked crestfallen.
"We're letting the treasure hunt get on our nerves," Ramage said. "I am, anyway."
"Me too!" Yorke said. "I have to admit it's exciting. Even if we find nothing, I've enjoyed it so far. What small boy hasn't played pirates and searched for treasure?"
"Quite," Ramage agreed, "but at the same time I'd like to be one of the few adults who actually found it!" As he spoke he saw Maxine watching him speculatively, as though weighing him up. Their eyes met and Ramage wondered, yet again, what her husband was like.
Within a week of the landing from the rafts, life on Snake Island had settled into a pleasant routine. The seamen of both ships enjoyed the treasure hunt - they were so eager to join one of the digging teams that Southwick grumbled that if there had been any miscreants he'd have made them part of the raft's crew.
After a day's digging, several of the men spent an hour or two each evening tidying up the ground round the houses. They cleared out some of the shrubs to give more space to the frangipani, now coming towards the end of its blossom, and a dozen other and smaller flowering trees, shrubs and bushes. They had made crude tables and forms and set them under the shade of a big flamboyant which towered over them like a scarlet umbrella. The paths leading from house to house had been lined with small rocks which had been painted white. Slowly San Ildefonso was being transformed into a neat hamlet.