Outside in the back yard I could hear Mr. Goodfellow, the slave of
love, sawing for dear life and Martha.



CHAPTER VII.


ENTER THE RETURNED PRISONER.

Strange to say, although I paid six or eight visits after this to
Captain Coffin, and by invitation, and watched his whaleboat
building, and ate more of his delectable guava-jelly, I saw nothing
more of the chart for several months.

On each occasion he treated me kindly, and made no secret of his
having chosen me for his favourite and particular friend; but
somehow, without any words, he contrived to set up an understanding
that further talk about the chart and the treasure must wait until
the boat should be ready for launching. In truth, I believe, a kind
of superstitious terror restricted him. He trusted me, yet was
afraid of overt signs of trust. You may put it that during this
while he was testing, watching me. I can only answer that I had no
suspicion of being watched, and that in discussing the boat's
fittings with me--her tanks, wells, and general storage capacity--he
took it for granted that I followed and understood her purpose.
If indeed he was testing me, in my innocence I took the best way to
reassure him; for I honestly looked upon the whole business as
moonshine, and made no doubt that he was cracked as a fiddle.