“No,” I replied.
“Why, Sep, how dull you are this morning!” he cried. “Didn’t you see that you had hold of one of your father’s silver chests?”
“One of my father’s what?” I roared.
“One of the silver chests. Sep, it was over these rocks, against that one, I suppose,” he cried, pointing to a huge block just below the surface, and a favourite haunt of conger, “that the Frenchman’s boat capsized.”
“What, the one with the silver?” I cried.
“Yes, and I believe all the chests are at the bottom there.”
“And they were coming back to try for them when the frigate came in sight!” I shouted.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” I cried, leaping up in the boat, and waving my arms about like an idiot. “Why, Bigley, it will set father free of all his troubles. Here, I’m half mad. What shall we do? Hold hard a moment: I’m going down to see.”
I had only my breeches on, and tearing these off, I stepped on to the gunwale, leaped up, turned over, and dived down into the clear cold water, trying with all my might to reach the bottom, but only describing a curve, and coming up again about twenty feet from the boat.