Not only
would an unknown sealing-island been laid before the East-enders, but
twenty such islands, and keys without number, each of which contained more
hidden treasure than 'Gar'ner's Island,' Oyster Pond, the Plumb and
Fisher's, and all the coasts of the Sound put together; enriched as each
and all of these places were thought to be, by the hidden deposits of
Kidd.

Nothing but an accident had prevented these rumours from being circulated.
It happened that on only one occasion Daggett was explicit and connected
in his narrative. At all other times his discourse was broken, consisting
more in allusions to what had been previously said than in direct and
clear revelations. The widow, most unfortunately for her means of
information, was with "neighbour Stone" when the connected narrative was
given, and all that she knew was disjointed, obscure, and a little
contradictory. Still, it was sufficient to set her thinking intensely and
sufficient to produce a material influence on the future fortunes of the
Sea Lion, as will appear in the sequel.

"It is always a misfortune for a human being to take his departure away
from home and friends," observed the Rev. Mr. Whittle. "Here was an
immortal soul left to take its last great flight, unsupported, I dare say,
except by the prayers of a few pious neighbours. I regret having been
absent during the time he was here. Getting home of a Friday only, I was
compelled to devote Saturday to preparations for the Sabbath; and
Sabbath-night, as I understand it, he departed."

"We are all in the hands of Divine Providence," said the deacon, with a
sober mien, "and it is our duty to submit. To my thinking, Oyster Pond
catches more of its share of the poor and needy, who are landed from
vessels passing east and west, and add considerably to our burthens."

This was said of a spot as much favoured by Divine Providence, in the way
of abundance, as any other in highly-favoured America. Some eight or ten
such events as the landing of a stranger had occurred within the last
half-century, and this was the only instance in which either of them had
cost the deacon a cent. But, so little was he accustomed, and so little
was he disposed, to give, that even a threatened danger of that sort
amounted, in his eyes, nearly to a loss.

"Well," exclaimed the literal Roswell Gardiner, "I think, deacon, that we
have no great reason to complain. Southold, Shelter Island, and all the
islands about here, for