"Have you thought of the chart, Daggett," asked the deacon, "and given an
eye to that journal?"

"Both, sir. Your kindness to me has been so great, that I am not a man apt
to forget it."

"I wish you would show me, yourself, the precise places on the chart,
where them islands are to be found. There is nothing like seeing a thing
with one's own eyes."

"You forget my oath, deacon Pratt. Every man on us took his bible oath not
to point out the position of the islands, until a'ter the year 1820. Then,
each and all on us is at liberty to do as he pleases. But, the chart is in
my chest, and not only the islands, but the key, is so plainly laid down,
that any mariner could find 'em. With that chest, however, I cannot part
so long as I live. Get me well, and I will sail in the Sea Lion, and tell
your captain Gar'ner all he will have occasion to know. The man's fortune
will be made who first gets to either of them places."

"Yes, I can imagine that, easy enough, from your accounts, Daggett--but,
how am I to be certain that some other vessel will not get the start of
me?"

"Because the secret is now my own. There was but seven on us, in that
brig, all told. Of them seven, four died at the islands of the fever,
homeward bound; and of the other three, the captain was drowned in the
squall I told you of, when he was washed overboard. That left only Jack
Thompson and me; and Jack, I think, must be the very man whose death I
see'd, six months since, as being killed by a whale on the False Banks."