ithout a single word being said for a long time.

By and by one of those in Barnaby's boat spoke up. "Where shall you go
now?" he said.

At this the leader of the expedition appeared suddenly to come back to
himself, and to find his voice again. "Go?" he roared out. "Go to the
devil! Go? Go where you choose! Go? Go back again--that's where we'll
go!" and therewith he fell a-cursing and swearing until he foamed at
the lips, as though he had gone clean crazy, while the black men began
rowing back again across the harbor as fast as ever they could lay oars
into the water.

They put Barnaby True ashore below the old custom house; but so
bewildered and shaken was he by all that had happened, and by what he
had seen, and by the names that he heard spoken, that he was scarcely
conscious of any of the familiar things among which he found himself
thus standing. And so he walked up the moonlit street toward his lodging
like one drunk or bewildered; for "John Malyoe" was the name of
the captain of the Adventure galley--he who had shot Barnaby's own
grandfather--and "Abraham Dawling" was the name of the gunner of the
Royal Sovereign who had been shot at the same time with the pirate
captain, and who, with him, had been left stretched out in the staring
sun by the murderers.

The whole business had occupied hardly two hours, but it was as though
that time was no part of Barnaby's life, but all a part of some other
life, so dark and strange and mysterious that it in no wise belonged to
him.

As for that box covered all over with mud, he could only guess at that
time what it contained and what the finding of it signified.

But of this our hero said nothing to anyone, nor did he tell a single
living soul what he had seen that night, but nursed it in his own mind,
where it lay so big for a while that he could think of little or nothing
else for days after.

Mr. Greenfield, Mr. Hartright's correspondent and agent in these parts,
lived in a fine brick house just out of the town, on the Mona Road,
his family consisting of a wife and two daughters--brisk, lively young
ladies with black hair and eyes, and very fine bright teeth that shone
whenever they laughed, and with a plenty to say for themselves. Thither
Barnaby True was often asked to a family dinner; and, indeed, it was a
pleasant home to visit, and to sit upon the veranda and smoke a cigarro
with the good old gentleman and look out toward the mountains, while the
young ladie