The Hispaniola Plate (1683-1893) — Story, Setting & Ideas
Edition facts
The Hispaniola Plate (1683-1893) — Story, Setting & Ideas can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 98,107 words, 7 hr 7 min estimated reading time, and 11 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 23.0 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Buccaneers -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
PTER I. Nicholas Crafer's Strange Will
CHAPTER II. An Old Bit of History
CHAPTER III. The Vanished Mr. Wargrave
CHAPTER IV. Cazalet's Bank
CHAPTER V. Captain William Phips
CHAPTER VI. The Beginning of a Mutiny
CHAPTER VII. The Ending of It
CHAPTER VIII. The Second Mutiny
CHAPTER IX. And the Preparations Against It
CHAPTER X. And How It was Ended
CHAPTER XI. They Have to Desist
CHAPTER XII. The Bark "Furie"
CHAPTER XIII. The Old Man's Story
CHAPTER XIV. The Wreck is Found
CHAPTER XV. What the First Search Revealed
CHAPTER XVI. An Honest Man Arrives
CHAPTER XVII. An Alarm from the "Furie"
CHAPTER XVIII. Treachery and Flight
CHAPTER XIX. The "Honest Man" in His True Colours
CHAPTER XXI. The Villain's Den
CHAPTER XXIII. The Treasure House
CHAPTER XXIV. What was in the Treasure House
CHAPTER XXV. The Middle Key
CHAPTER XXVI. Nicholas Leaves the Island
CHAPTER XXVII. The Narrative Ends
CHAPTER XXVIII. Off to the Virgin Isles
CHAPTER XXIX. Drawing Near
CHAPTER XXX. Out of the Depths of a Far Distant Past
CHAPTER XXXI. Some Light upon the Past
CHAPTER XXXII. The Solitude is Interrupted
CHAPTER XXXIII. The Island's Owner
CHAPTER XXXIV. Joseph Alderly
CHAPTER XXXV. Danger Impending
CHAPTER XXXVI. Beware!
CHAPTER XXXVII. "And Death the End of All"
CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Owner of the Treasure
CHAPTER XXXIX. The Approaching Search
CHAPTER XL. The Search
CHAPTER I. NICHOLAS CRAFER'S STRANGE WILL.
"Gray's Inn Square, Oct. 20th, 1892.
"My Dear Sir,--In answer to your request, I beg to inform you that the terms by which you inherit 'Phips House,' at Strand-on-the-Green, from your late uncle, are as follows--the statement being taken from the last will and testament of your ancestor Nicholas Crafer, made in the year 1695:--
'And I do hereby will and bequeathe that ye house called Phips by me, after my late captain and commander, Sir William Phips, when I purchased yt from Mr. Clitherow of Branford, do forever remaine in the possession of some descendant of mine, male or female, the former for choyce and preference, yet not also debarring, in fault of any bearing the name of Crafer existinge, those descending from the female side to succeed. That is to saye, it is to so remaine forever unless through it whoever doth succeede shall thereinto find the means whereby to obtain unto themselves a fortune of and equivalint unto the summe of Fiftie thousand guineas, the which I do hereby testify the meanes are forthcoming. After whych the house may be disposed of as best beseemeth those who have so found ye fortune. This, therefore, I say, "Seeke and ye shall find, knocke and yt shall be opened unto you."'
"This will, in spite of its quaintness, has ever, and will probably always, hold good, although not law, until one thing occurs of two: either that the house falls down of old age (which it seemed very likely to do when I inspected it after your late uncle's decease) or that some descendant of Commander Nicholas Crafer shall find the means of making the fortune of 50,000 guineas in or through it--a most unlikely thing to happen. For, as you know, many generations of Crafers have searched through the house from basement to garret, imagining that the original testator meant to hint that somewhere about it, was hidden away such a sum of money as he mentions; and always without result. Nor has the ingenuity of one generation after another ever been able to hit upon any hidden meaning which might be contained in the words of the will, or to find anything excepting the scrap of paper once discovered, of which you know; while certainly the land on which it stands--something under three acres--can hardly ever become of such value, or one-twentieth part of it.
"But as you know as much about your ancestor as I can possibly tell you, I need not write further, and I have only to state that, during your absence abroad, everything has been done to facilitate handing over the house to you on your return, and I now propose to prove your uncle's will, and, after the usual formalities, to put you in possession of Phips House and other property left by him.--Yours faithfully,
This was the letter which Reginald Crafer read at his breakfast, one fine autumn morning, as he sat in that good old hostelry, "The George," at Portsmouth--a letter which he had found at the Naval Club after his early morning walk on the Battery--a walk taken with the view of aiding an already exceedingly good appetite, and of having a look at the waves dancing out at the Nab and sparkling in the bright October sunshine.
The Hispaniola Plate opens with a preface that grounds the story in historical sources, citing Defoe's Colonel Jack and the 1697 Pietas in Patriam. The author declares the account “partly true and partly fictitious,” naming Sir William Phips and the wreck of the Spanish plate ship as factual anchors. This framing invites readers to approach the narrative as a blend of documented events and invented drama. The first excerpt, however, plunges into a violent confrontation between the narrator and a man named Alderly, whose delirium and physical struggle dominate the scene. The shift from scholarly preface to visceral action sets up a tension between historical authenticity and sensational adventure that shapes the entire work.
Historical Anchors and Fictional Leaps
The preface explicitly maps the story’s geography: “Thirty miles due north of Cape Français” lies the reef called “Bajo de la Plata, or Phips's Plate.” The author traces his source material to a single detailed account, Pietas in Patriam, and notes that later biographies are “garbled and mangled” copies. This meticulous citation establishes credibility, yet the preface also admits that “beyond the requirements of fiction the account is absolutely an account of what happened until the chase after Alderly by Nicholas Crafer, when fiction itself becomes predominant.” Readers are thus primed to recognize where documented history ends and imaginative reconstruction begins. The opening pages function as a guide, signaling that the novel will use real events as a springboard for invented characters and conflicts.
The Struggle as Narrative Engine
The excerpt from the later chapter presents a prolonged physical fight between the narrator and Alderly, described in visceral detail: “I smelt his hot, stinking, spirit-sodden breath all over me; I could even smell the filth of his body.” The scene relies on sensory overload—sight, smell, touch—to convey Alderly’s madness and the narrator’s desperation. Alderly mistakes the narrator for a ghost, crying, “I hated you when I made your own hands slay you.” This hallucination suggests a backstory of betrayal and guilt, but the excerpt does not clarify whether the narrator is indeed Winstanley or someone else. The fight ends with Alderly’s death, but not before he gasps out clues to hidden treasure: “This hut is full of spoil—beneath—none know but I.” The physical struggle thus doubles as a revelation mechanism, advancing both plot and character.
Voice and Temporal Distance
The narrator speaks in the past tense, recounting events from a later vantage point. Phrases like “So now I was the last of all left” and “A strange ending indeed to such a flight and such a chase” create a reflective tone, as if the narrator is looking back on a completed ordeal. This retrospective voice allows for commentary on the action—for example, noting that Alderly’s dying words might be “spoken in his madness.” The reader is kept at a slight remove, aware that the narrator has survived to tell the tale, but uncertain how much of the treasure story is reliable. The temporal gap also heightens suspense: the narrator knows the outcome, but the reader must piece together what happened from the fragmented memories presented.
Treasure, Madness, and Unreliable Testimony
Alderly’s death scene is saturated with ambiguity. He sings a snatch of a song—“When money’s—plenty—boys—we drink / To drown”—then falls back “moaning again.” His final words about buried treasure are interspersed with cries of agony, leaving the narrator (and the reader) to wonder if they are genuine or the product of delirium. The narrator himself acknowledges this uncertainty: “if his dying words were true and not spoken in his madness.” This moment encapsulates a central tension in the novel: the promise of treasure is entangled with mental instability and violence. The excerpt does not resolve whether the treasure exists, forcing readers to continue with a healthy skepticism toward any claims made by characters under duress.
Readers encountering The Hispaniola Plate for the first time will benefit from paying close attention to the preface’s distinction between historical fact and fictional elaboration. The excerpts suggest that the narrative rewards patience: early scenes of physical confrontation and madness lay groundwork for later revelations about treasure and identity. The narrator’s retrospective voice invites trust, but his own doubts about Alderly’s dying words remind us that even firsthand testimony can be flawed. Approach the story as a puzzle where the pieces are deliberately incomplete, and let the historical framework guide your expectations.
Reading the editorial note on The Hispaniola Plate, I kept thinking about how a sturdy frame can hold a wild story. The careful historical context felt like a handrail on a dark stair. It reminded me of the patient way The Fortunes of Garin — A Closer Reading lingers beside its own narrative, not explaining, just steadying. Both feel like quiet company for the tale itself.
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