“I’ll show you what is in ’em,” says the other, and thereupon arose, and Barnaby with him, and so went over to where the two travelling-cases stood.

Our hero had a strong enough suspicion as to what the cases contained.  But, Lord! what were suspicions to what his two eyes beheld when that man lifted the lid of one of them—­the locks thereof having already been forced—­and, flinging it back, displayed to Barnaby’s astonished and bedazzled sight a great treasure of gold and silver, some of it tied up in leathern bags, to be sure, but so many of the coins, big and little, yellow and white, lying loose in the cases as to make our hero think that a great part of the treasures of the Indies lay there before him.

“Well, and what do you think of that?” said the other.  “Is it not enough for a man to turn pirate for?” and thereupon burst out a-laughing and clapped down the lid again.  Then suddenly turning serious:  “Come Master Barnaby,” says he.  “I am to have some very sober talk with you, so fill up your glass again and then we will heave at it.”

Nor even in after years, nor in the light of that which afterwards occurred, could Barnaby repeat all that was said to him upon that occasion, for what with the pounding and beating of his aching head, and what with the wonder of what he had seen, he was altogether in the dark as to the greater part of what the other told him.  That other began by saying that Barnaby, instead of being sorry that he was William Brand’s grandson, might thank God for it; that he (Barnaby) had been watched and cared for for twenty years in more ways than he would ever know; that Sir John Malyoe had been watched also for all that while, and that it was a vastly strange thing that Sir John Malyoe’s debts in England and Barnaby’s coming of age should have brought them so together in Jamaica—­though, after all, it was all for the best, as Barnaby himself should presently see, and thank God for that also.  For now all the debts against that villain Jack Malyoe were settled in full, principal and interest, to the last penny, and Barnaby was to enjoy it the most of all.  Here the fellow took a very comfortable sip of his grog, and then went on to say with a very cunning and knowing wink of the eye that Barnaby was not the only passenger aboard, but that there was another in whose company he would be glad enough, no doubt, to finish the balance of the voyage he was now upon.  So now, if Barnaby was sufficiently composed, he should be introduced to that other passenger.  Thereupon, without waiting for a reply, he incontinently arose and, putting away the bottle of rum and the glasses, went across the saloon—­Barnaby watching him all the while like a man in a dream—­and opened the door of a cabin like that which Barnaby had occupied a little while before.  He was gone only for a moment, for almost immediately he came out again ushering a lady before him.

By now the daylight in the cabin was grown strong and clear, so that the light shining full upon her face, Barnaby True knew her the instant she appeared.