all was done that could be, I took my companion's hand, led him
up the sands beyond high-water mark, and then sat down beside him,
waiting for the dawn.

And there, next morning, by Dead Man's Rock they found us, while
across the beach came the faint music of Polkimbra bells as they rang
their Christmas peal, "Peace on earth and goodwill toward men."

There is little more to tell. Next day, at low ebb, with the aid of
Joe Roscorla (still hale and hearty) and a few Polkimbra fishermen
whom I knew, the rest of my grandfather's treasure was secured and
carried up from the sea. In the iron chest, besides the gems already
spoken of, and beneath the iron tray containing them, was a
prodigious quantity of gold and silver, partly in ingots, partly in
coinage. This last was of all nationalities: moidores, dollars,
rupees, doubloons, guineas, crown-pieces, louis, besides an amount of
coins which I could not trace, the whole proving a most catholic
taste in buccaneering. So much did it all weigh, that we found it
impossible to stir the chest as it stood, and therefore secured the
prize piecemeal. Strangest of all, however, was a folded parchment
which, we discovered beneath the tray of gems and above the coins.
It contained but few words, which ran as follows--

FAIR FORTUNE WRECKED, FAIR FORTUNE FOUND,
AND ALL BUT THE FINDER UNDERGROUND.--A.T.

This, as, far as I know, was my grandfather's one and only attempt at
verse; and its apparent application to the wreck of the _Belle
Fortune_ is a coincidence which puzzles me to this day.

The reader will search the chronicles of wrecks in vain for the story
of that ill-fated ship. But if he comes upon the record of a certain
vessel, the _James and Elizabeth_, wrecked upon the Cornish coast on
the night of October 11th, 1849, he may know it to be the same.
For that was the name given by the only survivor, one Georgio
Rhodojani, a Greek sailor, and as the _James and Elizabeth_ she
stands entered to this day.

If, however, his curiosity lead him further to inquire into the
after-history of this same Georgio Rhodojani, let him go on a fine
summer day to the County Lunatic Asylum at Bodmin, and, with
permission, enter the grounds set apart for private patients.
There he may chance to see a strange sight.

On a garden seat against the sunny wall sit two persons--a man and a
woman. The man is decrepit and worn, being apparently about
sixty-seven or eight years old;