wo of the men were carrying a large chest. It was so heavy that every
forty or fifty yards relays relieved each other. The box was brought
down to the edge of the water and loaded into a boat. Smith and Higgins
took their places at the oars and Blythe stepped into the bow.

The cargo seemed to call for tackle and ropes. I had them ready before
the boat reached us. Blythe superintended the hoisting of the chest,
arranging the ropes so as to make a slip impossible. We hauled it safely
aboard.

"Have it taken to the strong room, Sam. There's another waiting for us
ashore," Blythe explained.

"Want me to go back for it?"

"No. Keep a sharp lookout for our friend up the river."

He was pulled ashore again and returned two hours later with a second
chest, this time leaving Yeager and Barbados on guard at the cache.
Gallagher and Alderson were sent ashore later to join Tom's party for
the night watch.

A few more hours' work would be enough to lift the rest of the treasure.
Already we had on board a fortune in doubloons and bars of gold, but
there was still one more chest to be unearthed. We felt that we were
near the end of our adventure and our spirits were high.

Blythe got out his violin and Evie sang some of her plantation songs,
her soft voice falling easily into the indolent negro dialect.

My stunt was Irish stories. We dragooned the staid Morgan into playing
the piano while we ragged.

It must have been close to midnight before we spoke of breaking up.

Evelyn and I took a turn on the deck. Our excuse was to get a breath of
fresh air, but the truth is that we were always drifting together.

Even in the company of others our eyes had a way of sending wireless
messages of which we two only understood the code.

We leaned against the rail and looked across the bay. It was a night of
ragged clouds behind which the moon was screened.

"Isn't that a boat over there?" Evie asked, pointing in the direction of
the river mouth.

The moon had peeped out and was flinging a slant of light over the
water. I looked for a long minute.

"Yes. I believe it's Bothwell's schooner. He has slipped out unnoticed.
The fellow must mean mischief."

"Oh, I hope not," said Evie, and she gave a little shiver.

A sound came faintly over the water to us from the shore.

"Did you hear that?" Evelyn turned to me, her face white in the shining
moonbeam.

A second pistol shot followed the first.

"Trouble at the cache!"

I tu