is not, by any means, his history. Daggett was never a pirate
himself, but accident placed him in the same prison and same room as that
in which a real pirate was confined. There the men became friends, and the
condemned prisoner, for such he was in the end, gave this secret to
Daggett as the last service he could do him."

"I hope, deacon, you do not expect much in the way of profit from this
part of the voyage?"

"I expect the most from it, Gar'ner, as you will too, when you come to
hear the whole story."

The deacon then went into all the particulars of the revelations made by
the pirate to his fellow-prisoner, much as they had been given by Daggett
to himself. The young man listened to this account at first with
incredulity, then with interest; and finally with a feeling that induced
him to believe that there might be more truth in the narrative than he had
originally supposed possible. This change was produced by the earnest
manner of the deacon as much as by the narrative itself; for he had become
graphic under the strong impulses of that which, with him, was a master
passion. So deep had been the impression made on the mind of the old man
by Daggett's account, and so intense the expectations thereby awakened,
that he omitted nothing, observed the most minute accuracy in all his
details, and conveyed just as distinct impressions to his listener, as had
been conveyed to himself, when the story was first told to him.

"This is a most extr'or'nary account, take it on whatever tack you will!"
exclaimed Roswell Gardiner, as soon as a pause in the deacon's story
enabled him to put in another word. "The most extr'or'nary tale I ever
listened to! How came so much gold and silver to be abandoned for so long
a time?"

"Them three officers hid it there, fearing to trust their own crew with it
in their vessel. Their pretence was to stop for turtle, just as you must
do: whilst the hands were turtling, the captain and his mates walked about
the key, and took occasion to make their deposits in that hole on the
coral rock, as you have heard me say. Oh! it's all too natural not to be
true!"

Roswell Gardiner saw that the old man's hopes were too keenly excited to
be easily cooled, and that his latent covetousness was thoroughly
awakened. Of all the passions to which poor human nature is the slave, the
love of gold is that which endures the longest, and is often literally
carried with us to the verge of the grave. Indeed, in