"But I bartered my share for the lives of—"
"Tush!" says he, and reaching a valise from shadowy corner he opened it and I beheld such a glory of flashing gems as nigh dazzled me with their splendour. "Look at 'em, Martin, look at 'em!" he whispered. "Here's love and hate, life and death, every good and all the sins—look at 'em!" And catching up a handful he let them fall, glittering, through his fingers. "Lord love me, Martin," he whispered, "'tis enough to turn a man's brain! Have ye counted 'em over, comrade?"
"I never saw them until this moment, Adam." And I confessed how in my folly I had cast his letter of instruction into the sea, and of how my lady had found the secret at her dire peril.
"And she never showed you, Martin?"
"I was always too busy!"
"Busy!" says he, sitting back on his heels to stare up at me. "Busy? O Lord love me! Sure there's not your like i' the whole world, Martin!"
"Which is mighty well for the world!" says I bitterly.
"'Tis vasty treasure, Martin and worth some little risk. And in the cave lie yet fifty and four bars of gold and others of silver, with store of rix-dollars, doubloons, moidores and pieces of eight—gold coins of all countries. There let 'em rot—here's more wealth than we shall ever spend. Shall we divide it here or aboard ship?"
"Wait rather until we reach England."
"So be it, comrade. Then I'm minded to apportion a share to Godby here—what d'ye say?"