Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Split me!" says he, tapping me gently with his hook "O blind me if I thought ye such a lubberly fool! So old a trick, Marty! Now look'ee, were I a murderer and loved it--like Adam, curse him--I should pull trigger! But being Roger Tressady wi' a heart o' gold, I say sit down, lad, sit down and let us talk, friend, let us talk. Come--sit down! Never mind Andy, he shan't trouble us!" So with the pistol at my ear we sat down side by side and the dead man sprawling at our feet.

"Now first, Marty lad, how come ye here alone on Bartlemy's island--how?"

But sitting thus chin on fist I stared down at Red Andy's stiffening body silent as he, I being too full of fierce anger and bitter scorn of my folly for speech.

"Come, come, Marty, be sociable!" says Tressady, tapping my cheek with the pistol-muzzle, "Was it Penfeather sent ye hither t' give an eye to--the treasure? Was it?"

"Aye!"

"'Twould be the night he made the crew drunk and spoiled my plans. Ha, 'twas like him--a cunning rogue! But for this I'd have had the ship and him and the treasure. O a right cunning, fierce rogue was Adam, and none to match him but me."

"But he nearly did for you once!" says I bitterly, "And he such a small, timid man!"

"Look'ee, Martin, when Adam grows timid 'tis time for your bold, desperate fellows to beware! But he's dead at last, though I'd ha' felt more comfort, aye I'd ha' took it kinder had he been took off by my Silver Woman--or this!" Here he thrust his hook before my eyes. "It ain't a pretty thing, Martin, not pretty, no--but 'tis useful at all times and serves to shepherd my lambs wi' now and then, 'tis likewise a mighty persuading argument, but, and best of all--'tis sure, lad, sure. So I'd ha' took it kinder had I watched him go off on this, lad, this. My hook for my enemies and for my friends a heart o' gold! And, talking o' gold, Marty, what--what o' Bartlemy's Treasure?"

"You are happily welcome to it for all me."

"Why, that's spoke manly and like a friend, rot me but it is! And now where might it lie, Marty, where?"

"I've no idea."

"What ha'n't ye found it, lad?"

"No!"

"Not even--seen it, then?"

"No!"

"Why, think o' that now, think of that! And you wi'--a fortun' o' pearls on you, Marty. These pearl studs and buttons, lad. Pearls--ha, pearls was meat and drink to Bartlemy. And here's you wi' pearls I've seen on Bartlemy many a time. And yet you ha'n't found the treasure, says you. If I was a passionate man, Marty, I should call ye liar, says I. Howsoever what I do say is--as you've forgot, and very right and proper. But we'm friends, you and me, so far, and so, 'twixt friends, I ask you to think again until you remember, and to think hard, lad, hard."