“I was brought up in the business, and have a hankering for it yet,” returned the young man, frankly.  “Nor do I care so much for charts.  They are well enough when a vessel is on her road; but, as for whales or seals, the man who wishes to find either, in these times, has to look for them, as I tell my owner.  According to reports, the time has been when a craft had only to get an offing to fall in with something that was worth putting a harpoon into; but those days are gone, captain Daggett; and whales are to be looked after, out at sea, much as money is to be looked for ashore here.”

“Is the craft I saw at the wharf fitting out for a whaler, then?”

“She is going after luck, and will accept of it, in whatever form it may turn up.”

“She is rather small for the whaling business, though vessels of that size have done well, by keeping close in upon our own coast.”

“We shall know better what she will do after she has been tried,” returned Gardiner, evasively.  “What do you think of her for the Banks of Newfoundland?”

The Martha’s Vineyard-man gave his brother tar a quick, impatient glance, which pretty plainly said, “tell that to the marines,” when he opened the second chart, which as yet had been neglected.

“Sure enough,” he muttered, in a low tone, though loud enough to be heard by the keenly attentive deacon; “here it is—­a chart of the West Indies, and of all the keys!”

By this casual, spontaneous outbreaking, as it might be, the deacon got another clue to the stranger’s knowledge, that gave him increased uneasiness.  He was now convinced that, by means of the masters of the brig and the sloop, such information had been sent to the relatives of Daggett as had prepared them to expect the very revelations on which he hoped to establish his own fortunes.  To what extent these revelations had been made, of course he could only conjecture; but there must have been a good deal of particularity to induce the individual who had come over to Oyster Pond to look into the two charts so closely.  Under the circumstances, therefore, he felicitated himself on the precaution he had so early taken to erase the important notations from the paper.

“Captain Gar’ner, your eyes are younger than mine,” said the Vineyard-man, holding the chart up to the light—­“will you be good enough to look here?—­does it not seem as if that key had been noted, and the words rubbed off the chart?”

This caused the deacon to peer over Roswell Gardiner’s shoulder, and glad enough was he to ascertain that the stranger had placed his finger on a key that must lie several hundred miles from that which was supposed to hold the buried treasure of the pirates.  Something like an erasure did appear at the indicated point; but the chart was so old and dirty, that little satisfaction could be had by examining it.  Should the inquirer settle down on the key he evidently had in his eye, all would be well, since it was far enough from the spot really noted.