Chapter II: Part 2

Layn discerned that he had gone too far in his attempt at accusation, and so in a bantering way, continued, "You said yer musket had seen sarvice. You wan't in the Rev'lution'ry War, nur even in a skirmish. The wicked thing some o' you Punksholers meant to do on Judge Smith is known to the hull Town, an' you wuz a braggin' 'bout the sarvice yer gun hed seen. What harm wuz thar, by George, in askin' you, straight out an' out, ef that wuz the sarvice she hed seen?"

"A devlish lot o' harm, when a man wa'n't thar, nur nowheres near thar, nur never hed an idee o' bein' thar," replied Josh.

"Trim in the sail now, an' quit your sq'abblin'," spoke out Raner. "There, that'll do. Now she p'ints up better, an' ef she don't slide off over much, we'll make our landin' spot without a tack. Ah! that's a strong puff."

Raner looked to windward thoughtfully a few minutes, and then began to whistle. The breeze, the onward motion of the boat, and the movement of the waves stirred his feelings, and he whistled on for a full half-hour.

As the craft approached the Beach, there came into view spots of meadow

"Where merry mowers, hale and strong,
Swept scythe on scythe their swaths along
The low green prairies of the sea."

These scattered groups had been upon the meadows all night, ready to begin at sunrise the toil of the day. And toil it was too--toil that required an iron muscle and iron endurance. Yet, toil and moil though it were, beach-haying was always a welcomed season. It broke the monotony of farm life. There was the sail to and fro, the breeze from the sea in its first freshness, the beat of the surf, the wide view on every side, the visit to the ocean at night, and often a race with the slow-creeping tide to determine whether the mowers should lay their stint, or the water usurp their place.

The three mowers had made an early start and were in good season, but the sight of others at work roused their anticipations of the day's labor, and Layn suggested, "Let's give our scythes a thorer goin' over. We'll save time by it."

They did this, and then Josh said to Raner, "Shell I put an edge on _yer_ scythe?"

"No," was the reply. "I'll do that fur myself. You come aft an' take the tiller."

Over the ocean, low down on the horizon, lay a bank of fog. The mowers noticed this, and Raner remarked, "It may lay there all day, or it may clear away an' be gone when the sun gits higher and the day warmer."

"Thar's no tellin' nuthin' 'bout what it'll do, you'd better say," replied Josh, with a laugh.

All along they had feared the wind would fail them when well over under the Beach. But it continued to blow; and in as good season as the mowers had hoped, they reached the meadows. Josh stood forward, anchor in hand, and jumping ashore, walked the full length of the cable and planted the anchor deep in the soft meadow soil. The old sail was quickly furled, and the three mowers, with scythes and traps, set out for Arter's lot. Raner led the way, carrying, besides his scythe, a rake and hammer and wedges to hang anew the scythes, if need were. Layn was almost abreast of him, managing with some difficulty his scythe, a pitchfork, and a runlet of water; while Josh followed a short distance behind with the jug. Watching his chance, he lifted the jug and stole a draught.

"Le' me see," said Raner, approaching the place of their day's work. "Accordin' to the last division, the stake o' every lot stands on the west side, an' the numberin's on the east side o' the stake."

A little examination showed which Arter's lot was, and then Raner said, "We'll strike in here."

This was not the order to begin cutting, but for those immediate preparations which can be made nowhere else than on the exact spot. And so there followed driving of heel-wedges, twisting and ranging of blade with handle, stretching out of the foot to determine whether the scythe-point was too far out or too close in, and last, a stroke in the grass for final approval.

"We're all ready, then, be we?" asked Raner. "Well, I'll lead. Josh, you come arter me; an' Layn'll be last;" and getting into position, the lusty mowers struck their swaths. Regularly the graceful strokes fell, succeeded by the hitching step forward.

"Ah! my scythe's doin' purty work, I tell you," remarked Raner. "How does your'n cut, Layn?"

"Royally."

"An' your'n, Alibee?"

"Never better."

"We're all well under way, then, an' the grass's in fair condition. Can we lay it by night, think you, Layn?"

"I guess so; but by King George, we've got 'o keep movin', le' me tell yer."

"Alibee, can you stan' it to keep 'er joggin' all day long at this gait?"

"Thet's what I come fur, I b'lieve, to do a day's work with the rest on yer."

There had been some sort of an understanding between Raner and Layn when driving to the landing, that Alibee, who was a loud boaster, should do such a day's work as he had seldom done. It is easy, therefore, to see why Raner was so particular about assigning him the middle place. Raner and Layn were both excellent scythes-men, and with one to lead and the other to drive, Alibee must keep their pace all day.

Alibee, be it said, was not an energetic man. Some of his acquaintances called him a "blower." Had he been hired to go to the Beach and take two men with him to cut a plot of grass, there would have been mowing done as a matter of course; but the day, nevertheless, would have passed easily enough. The bouts would have been short ones, with a spell of whetting at each end. There would have been halts here and there, while he looked to see how the grass lay ahead, and whether it was down much or tangled. And when such pretexts failed, Alibee would have found it encouraging to count just how many swaths had been cut, and calculate how many more remained to be done. At midday, too, a long nooning would have been taken, with likely a stroll to kill a mess of snipe. Let, however, a few months pass, and beach-haying become the topic of talk at a tavern gathering, and with what noisy bragging would Alibee recount what he and two others accomplished in two days last summer.

"There's the first bout round," remarked Raner, "an' now whet up fur the next."

"An' wet up, too," broke in Josh.

"Yes, yes," seconded Layn; "a good horn all round."

All drank; but Josh was last at the jug, and improved his opportunity.

Each man took up his scythe again, wiped the blade with a wisp of grass, and struck with drawing motion his rifle along the blade. Every blow sent out those ringing notes--the test of good steel.

The whetting over, _zithe--zithe--zithe--_went the scythes once more, the graceful strokes beating again their triple measure. But before the mowers had finished their second bout, the outposts of the fog, which lay banked low over the ocean when they were crossing the Bay, came and settled about them. So intent, though, were the mowers upon the work in hand, that the fog's insidious presence was not noted, till making the last stroke out, they straightened up and looked around. They could not at first realize the change. When they had struck in at the other end of the swath, their view extended over miles--the wide Bay and the blue shore beyond, lay to the northward; west and east stretched the meadows with their sinuous edges; to the south were the Beach hills and the gap through them, affording a glimpse of the ocean. What wonder is it, then, that the mowers, bending down and watching intently to see where the next stroke should fall, lost consciousness of their surroundings, and were, the first instant on looking up, bewildered to see the impenetrable gray on all sides?

"Well, I sw'ar," spoke Josh. "This ere's sudden--I'll be darned ef I knowed where I wuz for a second ur two."

"Nuther did I," replied Layn. "At fust, I tried to git my bearin's, an' it bothered me, fur thar wuzn't no bearin's to be got. Then I come to my senses, an' knowed I wuz right here on the medder mowin', with this ere bank o' fog all round us."

A fog, as everybody knows, plays all sorts of tricks with the judgment. A man may drive over a road a hundred times and think himself acquainted with every turn and hollow, with every clump of trees, with every bank, rock, or bunch of shrubbery by the roadside; but let a dense fog come down, and memory at once refuses to match the new impressions with the old. The hollows are deeper and the bends of the road more abrupt, the clump of trees has shifted its position or has entirely disappeared, and every rock and bunch of shrubbery becomes a strange object. If he begins to doubt, his judgment is completely upset, and he concludes he has taken the wrong road.

A man may have sailed from shore to shore of a body of water so often as to feel almost confident of doing it with eyes shut; let, however, a fog settle and blot out every surrounding object, and ten to one he will conclude, before he has sailed a mile, that he has not kept his course, or that the wind has shifted. Then it is all up with him; confusion and uncertainty follow, and there can be no telling where he will make land.

"What's it goin' to do, Raner?--hang here all day like this?" asked Layn.

"It acts to me, with this light wind a blowin', as ef there'd be lots o' fog adriftin' all day. But fog or no fog," replied Raner, "we mus' keep a steppin'."

At Raner's suggestion the stroke was resumed, and the mowers gave no further heed to the fog whose mysterious depths had shut them in, and severed, as it seemed, all connection with the little world they knew.

Round and round they mowed, bout after bout, swinging their blades with the same lively stroke. For three hours Alibee stood the driving well, and then all of a sudden he broke out with, "This 'ere ain't squar'--it's urgin' the thing a little too much. My scythe's losin' her edge; the ol' rule is to whet at ev'ry corner, an' drink at ev'ry round."

"Well, ain't we drunk at ev'ry round?" answered Layn; "an' I took notice thet you swilled ez long ez any on us."

"Thet I'll 'low," said Josh; "but we ain't whet at ev'ry corner. Thet's my p'int. Th' ain't nuthin' much made, ez I kin see, by drivin' so like the devil. You'll wear me threadbare afore sundown, keepin' me here in the middle. It's the hardest place to mow in, by a darn sight."

"Joshua," said Raner, "I thought you Manor men wuz all such cracked mowyers. Here's Layn an' me, we're only common mowyers, an' you can't keep your end up with us, hey?"

"Yes, I kin," replied Josh; "but what's the use o' killin' yerself. We can't cut this ere medder to-day nohow, an' I don't see the use o' workin' hard ez you kin swing, an' goin' home middle to-morrer to do nuthin' all the arternoon. By gosh," he continued, sighing, as if partly exhausted, "I'm darned ef I don't b'lieve some sort o' contrivance could be rigged up to do this ere mowin'."

"What sort o' a contrivance, Josh?" quickly inquired Layn.

"Why, thar could be three ur four scythes hitched on to a post to swing round, an' cut twice ez fast ez we're doin' on it. An' one o' these ere days some ere feller'll rig up jist sich a machine."

"Not in our day, Joshua," laughed Raner.

"No, no; not in our day," repeated Layn, joining in the laugh.

"Your laughin' don't 'mek no dif'runce. I tell ye, I b'lieve it'll come yit."

"Why don't you try it yerself, ef yer so confident?" asked Layn.

"I'm bedarned ef I don't b'lieve I could, ef I hed time, an' tools, an' all the traps thet's wanted fur sich things. Them scythes, don't ye see, could be rigged to go roun' jist like thet;" and here Alibee cut a stroke to show what he meant. "Yes," he went on, growing earnest over his vague idea, "you could rig jist about three strappin' good scythes on to a post to swing roun' jist ez easy ez thet;" and here again he cut a dashing stroke.

"What a cussed foolish idee that is, Josh," spoke up Raner, a little vexed at the absurd notion. "How the devil, I'd like to know, would you make the post go?"

"Thet ere could be done somehow ur nuther. Thar'd be a way hit on, if a man taxed his noggin' long enough," replied Josh, hesitatingly.

Raner and Layn again both heartily laughed, and Josh said nothing more upon the subject. Whether, though, it was his remonstrance, or whether Raner thought they would thereby be able to cut more grass, he gave word at the next corner to stop and whet. This change put Josh in better spirits, for when the whetting was finished, he remarked, "Thar's only jist one thing a lackin', and thet's the jug. Ef thet ere jug could only foller us roun', we couldn't ask no more."

"Ef it did," said Layn, "you'd be all the time a guzzlin'."

"I ain't no bigger guzzler than you be," retorted Josh.

The morning wore on, and it seemed to Alibee that noon would never come. Every stroke went against his will. At one time he was on the point of deserting, and leaving Raner and Layn there to drive each other; but seeing how dense the fog was, and remembering he had no other way of getting off the Beach than to walk three or four miles east to the groups of mowers they had passed in the morning, and fearing that he might get lost should he attempt this--a thought which made him shudder--he held himself in control. The fog at this time was so thick that one could not distinguish an object four rods away, and the impossibility of measuring with the eye what had been cut, and what yet remained of the plot apportioned for the morning, was disheartening to Alibee. To his mind it seemed an endless cutting in a prison of fog. If, however, he had lost calculation and had thereby become dispirited, the plot was lessening just as rapidly as if in full view from start to finish. And shortly after midday, the mowers walked up the last narrow strip, leaving the morning's stint all laid.

"Now fur a chance at what victuals we fetched along. You go to the hay-boat, Josh, arter our pails, while Layn an' me heap up some o' this grass to set on whilst we're eatin'."

"Gi' me a swaller fust," replied Alibee; and after satisfying his thirst, he started for the hay-boat.

Ten minutes passed, and out of the fog came a voice, "Which way be yer? How fur be I frum the boat?"

"This way o' you, an' to the nuthard," replied Raner. "Don't you hear the surf to suthard o' you?"

Groping about a little longer, he found the boat and soon came out of the fog with the dinner pails.

The mowers, to state it as they would, lost no time in falling to. Their fare was plain--plainer, indeed, than was usual at home. But though plain, the labor near the sea had whet their appetites, and they ate with keener relish than at their own tables. Then, too, the jug came in and played its part rather more freely than it would have done at home. They talked of the morning's work, and discussed the probabilities of cutting the rest of the meadow that afternoon and getting away for home before sundown.

"We ain't laid but little more'n a third on it," remarked Layn. "It's my opinion we'll hev to stay here on the Beach all night, an' cut the balance 'arly to-morrer mornin'. Then, ef thar's any wind, we kin reach Squasux landin' middle forenoon."

"Thet's the idee exac'ly," replied Josh. "Tek it easy this arternoon, quit work arly, an' I'll hev a chance to git a bunch o' snipe. We kin git home at noon to-morrer at thet rate, jist ez easy ez you kin toss up yer hat."

"What 'o you say 'bout it, Raner?" asked Layn.

"Well, I wanted to git off to-night, but ef we're goin' to do it, we've got to cut faster this arternoon then we hev this mornin'," replied Raner.

A half hour was all the time taken for dinner. Layn carried the pails back to the boat, and the mowers finished their rest by whetting their scythes carefully, giving them a keener edge than they would take time for in the midst of work.

"Ef we're all ready fur work ag'in," said Raner, "we'll cut in this d'rection this arternoon. Down here an' up ag'in on the west side o' the lot, ef we kin see where the west side o' the lot is."

Alibee fell into his old place without a word of complaint. Raner began with the stroke he had maintained all day, but it was evident that Alibee intended to make his stroke in slower time, while Layn was not so anxious to drive him as he had been throughout the morning.

An hour passed, and Raner, after pacing over what yet remained uncut, remarked, "We can't poke along in this way, ef we've got any idee o' layin' this piece afore night. We come on here to cut, an' fur my part, I want to git done and hev it over with."

"This 'ere's good 'nough," replied Josh. "Let it go et this."

The wind, they noticed, was blowing stronger, and the fog began to sweep past them in dense scuds, at times suddenly growing thin as if about to clear away. Occasionally a yellowish tinge overhead gave indications that the sun had almost broken through, but presently a thick scud would come and shut the mowers in again. Thus, with fantastic behavior, the fog came and went. Two or three times, when it came the thickest, and darkened rapidly about them, they broke their stroke and looked around.

"Fust it's dark an' close, then it's lighter, then it'll come in agin thick, an' then, the nex' thing, the sun all but breaks through it. What a witchin' sort o' an arternoon it is," said Layn.

"I'd a darned sight ruther it ud gether itself up an' shower. Then thar'd be some likelihood o' the sun's comin' out an' dryin' on it up," replied Josh. "This ere thick an' thin, dark an' light, I don't like. Raner," he continued, "you couldn't a picked a wuss day."

"I never knowed sech a day afore in my life," spoke Layn. "Miles o' this fog has been runnin' by us all day long, an' this arternoon it's a loomin' itself up an' meltin' away ag'in in all kinds o' shapes."

The long swaths they were now mowing lay in direction to and from the ocean, and the place where the bouts ended and the indispensable jug stood in readiness, chanced to be so situated with reference to the gap between the hills that it afforded a view directly out upon the sea. The nature of the fog made this view more or less indistinct, at times shutting it entirely out of sight. Here the wind would bank up the fog, twist it into fantastic shapes, and blow them all away, only to summon more of the pliant medium and heap it up again into more grotesque masses. The mowers, dull as their perception was, at last saw this, and it wrought upon their minds. The feeling kept coming up that the appearances which the fog assumed through the gap were due to some kind of witchcraft. All the superstitious stories they had ever heard about the Beach vividly recurred to them, and these idle tales now assumed the very force of truth; and so they approached each time the spot that opened up the view, with increasing dread. They slighted their whetting at this corner, and would not have stopped at all had the jug been elsewhere. Alibee's apprehensions that what he had seen through the gap boded evil to them, were the first to get the upper hand of him, and suddenly stepping ahead and cutting the first stroke, he broke out, "By thunder, gi' me a chance to lead _once_. I'm darned ef I'm going to stay on this ere Beach to-night, nohow."

Raner and Layn were startled by this sudden freak of Alibee's, but they fell into line and followed with quicker stroke than they had heretofore made. Alibee proved himself equal to the place he had assumed, and the next corner was quickly reached. Here the whetting was done with new energy, and the scythes flew again.

"Keep 'er up, Josh," urged Layn; "we're hard on ter you. I ain't got a bit more notion then you hev o' stayin' on here all night."

They came round again to the dreaded corner. Alibee grated his teeth as he thought of it, and his breathing was hard enough to be heard by the others. Coming out first and looking seaward, the very thought he intended not to mention slipped from his control, and he spoke out, "Thar she is ag'in." But recovering himself to some extent, he turned quickly about and continued, "Layn, you lead this time. Then it'll fall ekal on all on us. Ev'ry man's got a dif'runt stroke, an' ef he leads once, mows in the middle once, an' follers once, he gits a chance one time ev'ry three, to swing his nat'rul stroke."

Stepping to the jug he took it up and, shaking it, resumed, "I swar, we ain't got but 'bout one good horn apiece, and thet puts us in a hell-sight wuss fix then we're in now."

They drained the jug to the last drop, and bent again to their work. The pace they were keeping was exhausting, but they never slackened. Another bout was finished within a dozen strokes, when Layn burst out, "Here we come ag'in to thet blasted gap. My blamed eyes won't keep away from it whenever we git roun' here."

"_You've_ seen it, then, hev yer?" asked Josh.

"Hang it, yes," replied Layn; "an' I've tried _not_ to, fur three times now."

"So hev I, an' I seem hell-bent to look thet way whenever I git roun'."

Raner said not a word. It was his turn to lead, and he started in without suffering the talk to go further. They were working to the utmost of their strength. Layn and Alibee cut wider swaths than at any previous time. They reached the end, and Layn said, "Raner, you go to t'other end, an' roun' thet corner, so we kin mow by thar without stoppin'. Josh an' me'll cut across this ere end, so's not to lose no time."

Raner complied; but the others noticed that instead of returning the instant he had accomplished the purpose, he stood a moment and looked out through the gap.

When he returned, Layn could not refrain from asking, "Did you see it?"

"Yes," replied Raner, "an' I swar I don't like it."

They plunged into work again with greater determination. It was in this way they kept their courage up; for every time they stopped to whet, their feelings were in a turmoil. The very pace they were working put them in all the worse condition. But the plot was lessening rapidly, and so they drove themselves on. Strange to say, some time passed without a word further in allusion to what had been seen. But while there was for this short period a dogged spell upon them to say nothing more about what each was sure the other had seen, the very bugaboo in their minds made all the more headway because of their silence; and in spite of themselves, they kept glancing through the gap, when they cut across the end where the empty jug lay. The expedient of curving that end did not dispel their alarm, for when they rounded the broad curve, some sinister influence impelled them to look seaward.

"She's fog color," abruptly exclaimed Josh, startling both Layn and Raner, and causing them to look at the same instant. "She's got ev'ry stitch spread, too."

"An' still headin' right squar' on, I sw'ar," said Layn. And pointing, he continued, "Raner, do you see? We ain't got no sich breeze a blowin' here ez she's got thar."

"What the hell's dif'runce, tell me, does that make with _her_? That wizard o' a ship 'ud have fair wind an' plenty on it, ef she wuz sailin' dead to wind'ard."

"Now, she's gone ag'in," spoke Alibee, "an' thet's what she's done afore."

The mowers began a new bout, and Raner remarked, "Such things, hell take 'em, have been seen afore, though a long time back. I heerd tell on 'em when I wuz a boy. It's a spectre o' some ship Kidd has sunk with all her crew on board, a ha'ntin' this coast. Thar's no tellin' what the mischief'll come out on it all to us, ne'ther. He wuz off the Inlet thar sev'ral times with the 'Royal Eduth.' I've hearn, time and ag'in, o' how he come in the Inlet with his long-boat, an' got game o' the Injuns, an' the devil may know how many lives he put an end to when off here."

The mowers came again to the bout leading up to the broad curve. Alibee, who a moment ago had said, "I'm all o' a cold sweat," looked out upon the ocean and exclaimed, "By the very devil himself, see how much nigher she's in! Confound ef I want 'o stay here an' cut much longer."

This exclamation produced but one result--a wider swath. They had plunged into deeper stroke that afternoon after every expression of fear, for the mowers tried, in the prodigious effort put forth, to drown, for the moment, their apprehensions. But the drafts they had made upon their strength were now telling upon them sorely. They could not sustain the effort, and soon lapsed into a slower stroke; and although the bout was considerably shorter, they were a third longer in cutting it. Though wrought to the highest point with fear, they were powerless to resist the bewitching influence to look seaward as they mowed round the curve. This time that strange shape, looming up again, struck terror through them.

"By heavens," gasped Alibee, "how much closer in is she a comin'? An' look! look! thet's a woman standin' on the rail thar, for'ard, white ez the ship. Not another soul on board, ez I kin see."

The mowers stood gazing a second with scythes poised, and then finished their strokes. Just around the curve Alibee stole a glance behind him. With piercing tone he cried, "Good God! thar's thet woman, on the hills yunder, comin straight fur us; an' the ship, look! she's bow on. Quick, quick, run fur the hay-boat."

Hurriedly they gathered their traps and ran to the boat, casting looks behind every few steps. They had left the jug--the empty jug--but not a second could be lost. They threw their scythes into the boat, Alibee ran for the anchor, and came running back with it, dragging the cable after him. Raner and Layn in their excitement had already pushed off the boat, and Josh, splashing through the water, tumbled on board, anchor in hand. In an instant the mowers had disappeared in the fog.

ENCHANTED TREASURE

Purty nigh a hull week that ship hed been seen manoovrin' outside the Beach. Fust, she'd 'pear to be purty well in, an' then she'd be way off a'most out o' sight; an' so it went, off an' on, off an' on. The neighbors--thar wa'n't many on 'em, the houses bein' scatterin'--hed seen 'er; an thar wuz a good deal o' conjectur 'bout what she could be doin'. Nobody could tell. Thar wusn't no war--ef that hed 'a been, 'twouldn't 'a been 'tall puzzlin' what she wur a-manoovrin' at on the coast. On a Friday arternoon she dis'peared, an' nothin' wuz seen o' her on a Saturday. Sunday mornin' arly, I looked over to the Beach, but didn't see anythin' o' the ship. She'd gone fur good, we concluded.

Long middle forenoon, John an' me made up our minds to go to the Beach. It wuz hossfootin time, an' that night wuz full moon. We put up suthin' to eat, an' told the folks to hum that we wuz goin', an' didn't calc'late to be back till long towards nex' mornin'.

Our plan wuz to sail over, saunter long the Beach that arternoon, an' 'bout nightfall git a pen ready to put the hossfeet in, an' when the moon wuz up an' the tide flood, ketch all the hossfeet we could. That's the best time o' the month to ketch 'em--full moon and flood tide. Hossfeet, you know, crawl up in pairs on to the shore at the height o' the flood. You wade along an' find 'em in the edge o' the water; throw 'em up onto shore high and dry, an' stick their tails into ground. They're fast, then. You got to work quick, 'cause the nick o' the tide don't stay on long. It's git all you kin afore they go off. When they're gone, you kin take your own time in loadin' 'em into the boat, ur puttin' 'em into pen till you kin take 'em off.

John an' me intended to put 'em in a pen, let 'em be thar till we could bring on the scow to load 'em into, and then tow 'em off. One year we got purty nigh three thousan' hossfeet in one night. It's excitin' work to wade along, lookin' close to see 'em, fur the water's dark an' they're dark; ur else hittin' 'em with your feet, an' then reachin' to find 'em. You got to be more'n car'ful, though, 'bout one thing, an' that's not to git their tails stuck into yer feet ur hands. Ef you do, an' it goes in deep, ten chances to one you're a "goner."

Well, John an' me expected to mek a big haul that night. We went down to the landin', an' fussed 'roun' thar, gittin' the old skiff ready. We warn't in any hurry, fur we hed all day afore us. 'Twur one o' them shiny, quiet June days, an' it bein' Sunday made it 'pear all the more so.

The Bay wuz ez blue ez could be--the water wuz becomin warm--that's what made it blue. Thar wuz only a little mite o' wind, jist enough to fill the sail.

I remember that sailin' ez plain ez if it all happened yisterday. I steered part o' the way, then John took hold, an' I stretched myself out in the skiff. The sun shun warm--that kind o' pleasant warmth that you wanted to let soak in an' in.

The skiff slid for'ard easy--no tuggin' an' jumpin'; the waves--the water wuz only roughened a little--rippled an' slapped up alongside, soundin' holler to me in the bottom of the skiff, an' the water bubbled aroun' the rudder--that's 'bout all thar wuz to it, but somehow I could 'a sailed on for a fortni't.

The tide wuz low when we got across, but we had no diffikilty to git close to the medder, ez John steered up into a dreen. We took out the mast, rolled the mutton-leg sail round it, an' drawed the skiff up into the grass. Then we eats somethin', put the rest o' our victuals away till night, an' went over to the surf shore. Thar we set down a short spell, jist ez ev'rybody does, I guess, when they go over to the ocean an' have a plenty o' time to spar', ez we hed. Fin'ly we begun our walk 'long shore to see what we could find.

This ere walk 'long shore wuz one reason why we'd come over to the Beach in the forenoon. I don't remember how fur we walked, but we sauntered along an hour or so--the sun wuz quite a piece to the west--when all on a sudden John p'inted off shore an' says, "Jess, look-a-thar. What do you mek o' that? Thar she is ag'in standin' right onto shore."

"That's her," says I; "that's the same ship, an' she ain't a-beatin' nuther, with the wind this way." I somehow kind o' felt that that ship wuzn't standin' close in fur no good puppose, and I didn't care to be in sight on-shore, ez thar hed been no end o' strange things done on that Beach fust an' last. I thought quick o' what, accordin' to all accounts, hed happened in my granther's days, an' even thirty year back, in my father's, so I says agin to John, "Come, let's git up in the hills out o' sight."

In less 'an no time, we slipped round the hills, climbed up one on 'em to where we could jist peek over, an' laid down. The ship kep' a comin'. She didn't seem to change her course by a yard's breadth. Ev'ry sail wuz spread an' pullin', an' I tell you she wur a purty sight to look at.

'Fore long, John says, "Jess, that vessel's got some puppose, an' we'd better go east."

So we scooted 'long behind the hills, an' ev'ry low gap atween the hills we come to, we'd stop car'ful an' look out to see ef the ship kep' on the same course. Ev'ry time we looked out, she wuz nigher an' nigher. When we'd got a stretchin' good piece east we didn't run any further, but crawled up a low hill to take a good look-out agin. By this time, the ship wur pretty well in. Afore long, she rounded up into the wind, clewed up her squarsails, an' anchored.

"What're they doin' now, John?" I asked; "kin you mek out?"

"Lowerin' a yawl, it looks like to me," he says.

An' so they wuz. In a short time the yawl pushed out from the ship, an' then I could see plain enough what it wuz, an' that some on the ship's crew wuz comin' ashore in that ere yawl.

We hunted round fur a place to hide, 'cause we knowed they couldn't be a-comin' ashore fur water. There wuzn't no water to be got. Behind us wuz a clump o' cedars purty thick, so we run 'long a windin' holler, an' crep' up into that bunch o' low cedars. When we looked out, the yawl wuz behind the hills; but purty soon it come into range near shore, an' disappeared ag'in, fur the way on it wuz, thar wur a small gap 'tween the hills that give us this sight o' the yawl. Arter the yawl got across that gap, we waited a long time--I tell you it wuz long--afore we see anythin' more on 'em. We got scared a-waitin'; fur how could we tell but what they wuz mekin' towards us? While I'd got sort o' tired a-strainin' an' lookin' here an' thar, an' fell to conject'rin' what under the sun wuz goin' to turn out on it all, John says all on a sudden, "Jess, look, thar's one on 'em on yunder hill."

I looked quick, and thar stood a sailor with a spy-glass searchin' in ev'ry d'rection. We crouched flat, scratchin' our hands an' face in gittin' under the branches near ground. We'd a been layin' down all the time, but a spy-glass is purty fur-sighted, an' we knowed it, so we crawled under the branches to be all the more out o' sight.

In jist about three minutes the sailor wuz gone. Then we hed another time o' fearin' what 'ud come next, but soon some men 'peared on the top o' the hill. Thar wuz five on 'em. I breathed hard, an' so did John, till we see they wurn't comin' towards us. They wuz carryin' somethin' _heavy_, ez they'd stop, set it down, an' take turns. An' when they changed what they wuz carryin', they changed shovels. They hed shovels with 'em, for these we could see plain enough.

These five men went onwards to a hill in the middle of the Beach--the highest hill within sev'ral miles--an' stopped on the side o' it toward the ocean. They stopped a long while an' 'peared to be takin' certain ranges. Fin'ly they begun to dig. Ev'ry single one o' the five wur a-diggin'. The bank o' course kep' a growin', and got so high, ur the hole got so deep, I dun know which, that we couldn't see 'em any longer a-diggin'. Nex' they all come out, took what they hed fetched with 'em, and put it into the hole. Then thar wuz a long halt--all on 'em down in the hole. Not one on 'em wuz seen fur a long time. That time they wuz out o' sight so long that John proposed to skulk to our boat.

But I says, "No, we wun't run no risks."

He wuz afeard, an' so wuz I. We hadn't even our old flint-locks with us. They would a'boostered up our courage consid'rable. I wuz right, though, 'bout stayin' where we wuz. We shouldn't a hed time to get halfway to our boat, 'fore they come up out o' the hole, an' begun to shovel the sand in agin. I couldn't mek out but four shov'lin', but I never thought much on it at fust. When the hole, though, got purty nigh full--you could sort o' tell by the banks--I couldn't then mek out but four men. I strained an' looked till there wuz dark spots a-swimmin' 'fore my eyes, and then I whispered to John--for we wuz to the wind'ard on the men--sayin', "John, how many do you mek out a-shov'lin'?"

"Four," says he, "only four, an' I been countin' 'em agin an' agin."

"That's all I kin mek out uther. Didn't five on 'em come ashore?"

"I know thar wuz five," says John; "I see them five jist ez plain ez I see them ere four now. I counted five on 'em in two dif'runt places."

The hole wuz filled, they spatted on the sand with their shovels--that ere made me all the time think o' buryin' somebody--an' then them four sailors went back to the yawl.

John an' me waited and watched another long, tejus time--I suppose they wuz a-waitin fur the best chance to git their yawl through the surf. It's easier to come on, you know, than it is to git back agin.

Through that ere gap 'tween the hills, though, we see the yawl ez they rowed off to the ship, and we breathed consid'rable easier. Anchor wuz huv up, the sails unclewed, an' the ship tacked off to suth'ard.

The days is long that time o' year, an' it wuz well onto sundown afore the ship got under way. When we see she wuz headin' off, we made fur our skiff.

We gin up all idee o' hossfootin' that night. It wuz too bad to leave the Beach, but we hed no mind to stay thar. We wuz mighty afeard, you see, an' thar's no use o' denyin' it--the thoughts o' what become o' that fifth man wuz boogerish; so we put for hum.

It would 'a been one o' the very best nights for hossfootin'. The tide wuz high, an' the moon come up over the Beach big an' full; but the Beach lay all dusky an' dark under the moon, an' the night seemed owly. We laid our course straight across. It wurn't pleasant sailin', though, ez it hed been in the mornin'; fur the waves kep' mekin' moanin' noises an' guggling's all 'round the boat. I wuz chilly, an' my feelin's crawled over me, and kep' crawlin' over me till we got to the landin'.

The folks wuz su'prised to see us. We got hum 'bout bed-time, an' told at once what we'd seen; an' instid o' gittin' off to bed 'arly, ez we al'ays did Sunday nights to git a good start Monday mornin'--instid o' gittin' off to bed, we all sot up an' talked a long spell about it.

When I went to bed I couldn't go to sleep, 'cause I kep' thinkin' over the hull matter. That day an' that ere bright night hev al'ays seemed to me jist like two days into one. Thar wurn't any daybreak, fur the moonlight wuz ez bright ez daylight, an' you couldn't tell when one went an' another come. I s'pose though, arter all, that wuz a nat'rul thing in June, when the sun rises 'arliest in the year; but I never noticed it afore ur sence.

Two ur three days arterward, some o' the neighbors stopped to the house in the edge o'the ev'nin', an' mongst other things that wuz talked over wuz that ere ship; fur, you see, she hed been noticed by all the people o' that section the week afore, an' now she wuz gone--nothin' more'd been seen o' her. I told what John an' me hed seen, an' so the story got afloat. All summer long, way into fall, neighbors an' people livin' quite a distance away would stop and ask me 'bout it--full a dozen men from the middle o' the Islan' stopped, fust an' last, to ask me if it twan't the same ship some o' their mowers see, one foggy day six weeks later on, when they wuz on the Beach cuttin' salt hay. Winter nights, we now an' then would git to talkin' it over 'round the fireplace. Well, time went on, an' young people ez they growed up would ask me to tell it to them.

I've told it a good many times--a good many times. You see, it wur over fifty year ago sence it happened.

"Did anybody go to the spot an' see what wuz buried thar?"

Some dare-devils from away West somewheres tried to dig thar. They took a clear night with only a little wind a-blowin' an' a few clouds afloat, but when they got fairly to work, it grew pitch dark, an' foggy, ez quick ez a candle goes out. The air got so thick they couldn't scarcely breathe, an' then a skel'ton ghost with a dagger in its hand, that hed some kind o' pale flame creepin' an' burnin' on the blade, 'peared right above 'em. It stood a minute an' shook the dagger, an' then begun to move 'round 'em, comin' nearer an' nearer, till the men run headlong fur their boat, shakin' cold, they wuz so scared.

I heerd one on 'em say, ten year arter, that that wuz the only time in all his life his hair ever stood on end.

But nobody round here never dug thar. They never even probed thar. They never tried the min'rul rod thar nuther, ez they did sometimes in other spots. Ev'rybody roun' this ere part o' the Islan' knowed better. The treasure buried thar wuz enchanted treasure. Nobody meddles with enchanted treasure that knows what enchanted treasure is.

"What made it enchanted?"

That fifth man wuz a pris'ner they'd taken frum some ship they'd run down, robbed, an' destroyed with the rest on the crew. They'd got ready to come ashore to bury treasure, an' they ordered him to go long with 'em to help do it. He went, doin' his part o' the work jist ez ef he wur one o' the gang.

They go ashore, mek up their minds 'bout the spot, take their ranges so they kin come back to the spot when they want to, an' then begin to dig. When the hole is dug deep enough, they set the treasure into the hole, an' all stan' in thar aroun' it. The leader o' the gang tells the pris'ner that he's got to stay by that ere treasure an' guard it, so nobody kin ever git it but them.

They mek him sw'ar with some kind o' an oath that he will. Then they mek way with him, an' put his body over the treasure.

That's why we couldn't mek out no more 'an four men goin' back when five come ashore. Them four men murdered the fifth one, an' in so doin' enchanted the treasure.

It wuz sealed in human blood, an' the devil himself wuz thar in full charge. An' that's why thunder an' lightnin' comes, an' spectres is seen, an' the treasure sinks lower an' lower, an' the hole caves, when people hev tried to dig up enchanted treasure. An' that's why, too, so little buried treasure hez ever been found, 'cause pirates mos' al'ays enchant it, an' sometimes enchant it double. They murder their pris'ners, an' bury 'em, knife in hand, settin' on the treasure to guard it.

THE MONEY SHIP

Seventy years ago two boys, one seven years old and the other twelve, made a trip with their father up the Great South Bay. They had been promised that when it became necessary to land and mend the nets, they might run across the Beach to the ocean.

So, one afternoon when the nets were spread, away the boys scampered, dragging their outstretched hands through the tall grass. But coming upon a damp spot of meadow when a third of the way over, they were obliged to turn their course. In doing so, they chanced to look behind them, and seeing how far they were from the boat and how small it appeared, they were afraid, and had half a mind to turn back. But the younger lad caught sight of the large, leafy stalks of a great rose mallow, a few steps ahead, spreading the broad petals of its passionate flower out to the sun and the breeze.

"See them big flowers," he said, to his brother.

Forgetting their fear, both ran to the spot, plucked a handful, and continued their way to the ocean.

"They ain't got any smell," said the older, "but they're a pretty color."

"Let's get a lot when we come back, and take 'em home," suggested the younger.

But the showy flowers, deprived of the abundant moisture which their roots continually send up, soon wilted and lost their fresh, tropical beauty. Surprised and disappointed at this, the lads threw them down and quickened their steps. So anxious were they to get across, that the Beach seemed much wider than they had ever imagined. At last they reached the ridge of hills that lie on the inner side of the surf strand, shutting out all view of the ocean, and toiled to the top. The hills seemed very steep and high to them, for in all their lives they had never been away from the low and level south side of the Island.

Reaching the top, that far and mighty prospect of the great deep burst upon them. It was a sight they had expected to see, but a sight of whose accompanying grandeur they had not formed the least conception. They stood silent, each for the time unconscious of the other, while the feeling which comes in the presence of the sublime surged up within their minds.

Young hearts, though, do not give themselves up long to such emotions, and wear their freshness out with pondering, as older people do. With these boys, the spell was brief; but during it the great sea had breathed its infinite benediction upon them, arousing within them feelings unstirred before. The usual traits of boyhood, however, soon asserted themselves, and the boys ran down the slope and began to gather shells and skim them into the surf. They did not, though, whirl away every shell, but, now and then, thrust a pretty one into their pockets. And with the shells they often saved smooth white stones that had been bathed and polished by the sea.

Tiring of this play, they turned to making marks and figures, and writing their names in the wet sand. Then they threw themselves down and dug holes in the wet sand with "skimmauge" shells, and banked the sand up over their feet and hands.

"I wonder where that ship's going and how far away she is?" said the younger lad.

"Oh, fifty miles--for you can't see anything but her sails, and only a little of them," answered the other.

Then the younger asked if that wasn't the end of the world where the sky went down into the ocean. And watching the low clouds that floated along the distant horizon, he fancied that they were going off to the end of the world.

"May be," he spoke, "they're going after rain--clouds have some place where they keep their rain. How slow they're going! When they get the rain, they'll hurry back. Why, then they almost fly. Ain't you seen 'em fly on a stormy day when they're low down, and you could almost see through 'em? I guess they hurry to scatter the rain over more ground."

The elder brother paid no heed to these fancies, but began to roll his trousers up above his knees as high as he could pull them. The younger quickly did the same, for there were no shoes and stockings to be removed, as bay-men's boys, in those days, went barefooted in summer time.

Then they played along the strand, running down as the waves withdrew from the shore, and as one broke again, and reached up rapidly with its liquid hands, they would run from it. At length, a wave stretched its foamy arms farther up, and caught them ankle deep. The charm of playing with the watery being was broken, and now they waded down, standing knee-deep to feel themselves settle as the undertow scurried past them with its freight of sand. At last, a larger wave came unawares, and wet the elder brother's trousers, changing quickly the current of his thoughts.

"Come," said he, "father told us not to stay over here long. We must hurry right back."

They ran westward to a low spot between the hills, and turned through this pass. As they were following the winding around the edge of a hill, suddenly the older brother grasped the younger's arm, and stopped short before a spot where no grass grew--a slight hollow swept out by the winds.

"See them bones!" he exclaimed. "They're men's bones. There's a hand--and over there's a skull. See it rock! See it! I'm afraid. Let's run."

Away they ran in their fright, coming out of breath to their father, and telling him with much gasping what they had seen.

"Well," he replied, "before we get underway for home this afternoon, I'll go with you and see what it was. Let me think. This is near the Old House. It's easy enough to account for the bones over there; but the skull's rocking--I guess you imagined that."

"No, sir, father, I saw it go just like this--first one side and then the other," replied the elder son, as he suggested the rocking by the motion of his hands.

"The skull don't rock now," said the father, when they reached the spot in the afternoon. He picked up the skull, and looking in, saw that a meadow mouse had built its nest there.

"Yes, boys, I guess you were right. I've no doubt now it did rock."

And looking again at the skull, he saw that there were double teeth all around on each jaw. A horror ran through him at the thought. He cast the skull away, and turned to leave the spot, taking his boys by the hand. Half-way to the boat he spoke, saying: "That was a pirate's skull and them was pirates' bones. I heard when we first moved up to this part of the Island something about pirates being buried over on the Beach. This must be the place. I never inquired into the partic'lars. I don't like such things, and don't want to know 'bout 'em. If you do, wait till you get older, and then inquire into it. It's bad for you to know such things now."