Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Aye, aye!" says Godby, tightening the belt where swung his great cutlass and, shouldering his musket, set off after the three.

"So there goeth our fortune aboard, comrade."

"And in desperate risky fashion, Adam."

"In safe, straightforward fashion rather, and in broad daylight, the which is surer than stealing it aboard in the dark."

"But should these rogues guess what they carry--"

"They won't, Martin, and if they should they have but their knives 'gainst Godby's musket and pistols."

"Ha--murder, Adam?"

"Would you call this murder, comrade?"

"What other? I wonder what manner of man you'll be, away there in England?"

"A worthy, right worshipful justice o' the peace, Martin, if Providence seeth fit, in laced coat and great peruke, to see that my tenants' cottages be sound and wholesome, to pat the touzled heads o' the children, bless 'em! And to have word with every soul i' the village. To snooze i' my great pew o' Sundays and, dying at last, snug abed, to leave behind me a kindly memory. And what for you, Martin? What see you in the ship yonder?"

"God knoweth!" says I, gloomily.

"Why not a woman's love, comrade, why not good works, rank and belike--children to honour your memory?"

"Were I but worthy all this, Adam."

"Zounds, but here's humility! Yet your true lover is ever humble, I've heard, so 'tis very well, Martin. And this doth mind me I bear you a message from my lady--"

"A message--from her?" I cried, gripping his arm, "Out with it, man, out with it and God forgive you this delay! What says my lady?"

"This, Martin: she would have you shave according to late custom."

"Why, so I will! But said she no more?"

"Aye, something of meeting you here. So get to your shaving and cheerily, comrade, cheerily. I'll to the ship, for at sunset 'tis up anchor and hey for England! I'll fire two guns to warn you aboard, and tarry not, for the ship lieth within a sunken reef and we must catch the flood." Here he turned to go, then paused to glance round the horizon with a seaman's eye. "The wind is fair to serve us, Martin," says he, pinching his chin, "yet I could wish for a tempest out o' the north and a rising sea!"

"And why, Adam, in Heaven's name?"

"'Twould be the sure and certain end of Tressady and Mings, comrade. Howbeit what's done is done and all things do lie in the hands of Providence, so do I cherish hope. Go and shave, Martin, go and shave!"