duly got aboard, on the evening of July 12, all was ready for the start;
an evening which was naturally spent in a parting conclave in John
Saunders's snuggery.

"Why, one important thing you've forgotten," said Charlie, as we sat
over our pipes and glasses. "Think of forgetting that. Machetes--and
spades and pickaxes. And I'd take a few sticks of dynamite along with
you too. I can let you have the lot, and, if you like, we'll get them
aboard to-night."

"It's a pity you have to give it away that it's a treasure hunt," said
John,--"but, then you can't keep the crew from knowing. And they're a
queer lot on the subject of treasure, have some of the rummest
superstitions. I hope you won't have any trouble with them."

"Had any experience in handling niggers?" asked Charlie.

"Not the least."

"That makes me wish I were coming with you. They are rum beggars. Awful
cowards, and just like a pack of children. You know about sailing
anyhow. That's a good thing. You can captain your own boat, if need be.
That's all to the good. Particularly if you strike any dirty weather.
Though they're cowards in a storm, they'll take orders better than white
men--so long as they see that you know what you are about. But let me
give you one word of advice. Be kind, of course, with them--but keep
your distance all the same. And be careful about losing your temper. You
get more out of them by coaxing--hard as it is, at times. And, by the
way, how would you like to take old 'Sailor' with you?"

"Sailor" was a great Labrador retriever, who, at that moment, turned up
his big head, with a devoted sigh, from behind his master's chair.

"Rather," I said. So "Sailor" was thereupon enrolled as a further
addition to the crew.

"Of course, you needn't expect to start on time," said Charlie, with a
laugh; "you'll be lucky if the crew turns up an hour after time. But
that's all in the game. I know them--lazy beggars."

And the morning proved the truth of Charlie's judgment.

"Old Tom," the cook, was first on hand. I took to him at once. A simple,
kindly old "darky" of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" type, with faithfulness
written all over him, and a certain sad wisdom in his old face.

"You'll find Tom a great cook," said Charlie, patting the old man on the
shoulder. "Many a trip we've taken together after duck, haven't we,
Tom?" said he kindly.

"That's right, suh. That's right," said the old man, his eyes twinkling
with pleasure.

Then came the capt