"O John!" said I, "I sha'n't sleep a wink to-night."

"I don't take much stock in it," said John. "I'm inclined to think it's
a hoax. Some one trying to fool the old fellow. If there'd been any
treasure, I guess one could have trusted old 'Wrecker' Wicks to get
after it.... But, boys, it's bed-time, anyhow. Come down to the office
in the morning and we'll look it over."

So our meeting broke up for the time being, and taking my candle, I went
upstairs, to dream of caves overflowing with gold pieces, and John
Tinker, fierce and moustachioed, standing over me, a cutlass between his
teeth, and a revolver in each hand.




CHAPTER II

_The Narrative of Henry P. Tobias, Ex-Pirate, as Dictated on His
Deathbed, in the Year of Our Lord, 1859._


The good John had scarcely made his leisurely, distinguished appearance
at his desk on the morrow, immaculately white, and breathing his
customary air of fathomless repose, when I too entered by one door, and
Charlie Webster by the other.

"Now for the document," we both exclaimed in a breath.