“But do they ever find anything?” continued his questioner soberly.
“Das what don’t no one know. Ef yo’ fine a box o’ pirate gold dollars, yo’ mus’n’t tell no one. Ef yo’ do, yo’ luck’s broke—ain’t never goin’ fine no mo’.”
“Well, how do you know where to dig, if you haven’t got a chart?” went on Bob.
“Das it,” slowly answered Jerry, closing one eye. “Dey’s signs ’at yo’ can tell by. But yo’ got to have a reg’lar treasurer, ef yo’ don’t know em. I’m feared to drap daid ef Ah tell ’bout mah reg’lar treasure place, but ef ye’ll gimme de two dollars, Ah know de best treasurers on the bay—”
Bob laughed and returned his money to his pocket.
“Jerry,” he said, “if you ever run across any fresh treasure tracks and can show ’em to me, I’ll go along and help dig and won’t charge you a cent.”
The boys found treasure of various kinds very soon, but none of it was pirate gold. Before Jerry and Bob could enter into new negotiations concerning doubloons or pieces-of-eight, Tom and Hal swooped down on the colored boy, and set him to work repacking cargo. Long before the navy yard was passed, everything was in order, and Captain Joe’s passengers were settled to enjoy the sail.
“It’s great,” exclaimed Bob, as he welcomed the fine salt spray, “and the best part of it is that it’s just about as far from anything I expected as it well could be.”
“That’s one thing about sailin’,” remarked Hal. “It’s usually far from anything you imagine. You’d think, scootin’ along here with this breeze and on this baby swell, that there wasn’t a ‘norther’ in the wide world.”
“How does she look, Captain Joe?” spoke up Tom, as if to provide an antidote to Hal’s gloomy comment.