"I know what it is got bucked off a horse once," his strange relative sympathised, as he poured him a huge cup of fragrant black coffee. "Drink that down. It will make a new man of you. Can't offer you much for breakfast except bacon, sea biscuit, and some scrambled turtle eggs. They're fresh. I guarantee that, for I dug them out this morning while you slept."
"That coffee is a meal in itself," Francis praised, meanwhile studying his kinsman and ever and anon glancing at the portrait of their relative.
"You're just like him, and in more than mere looks," Henry laughed, catching him in his scrutiny. "When you refused to share yesterday, it was old Sir Henry to the fife. He had a deep-seated antipathy against sharing, even with his own crews. It's what caused most of his troubles. And he's certainly never shared a penny of his treasure with any of his descendants. Now I'm different. Not only will I share the Calf with you; but I'll present you with my half as well, lock, stock, and barrel, this grass hut, all these nice furnishings, tenements, hereditaments, and everything, and what's left of the turtle eggs. When do vou want to move in?"
"You mean…?" Francis asked.
"Just that. There's nothing here. I've just about dug the island upside down and all I found was the chest there full of old clothes."
"It must have encouraged you."
"Mightily. I thought I had a hammerlock on it. At any rate, it showed I'm on the right track."
"What's the matter with trying the Bull?" Francis queried.
"That's my idea right now," was the answer, "though I've got another clue for over on the mainland. Those oldtimers had a way of noting down their latitude and longitude whole degrees out of the way."
"Ten North and Ninety East on the chart might mean Twelve North and Ninety-two East," Francis concurred. "Then again it might mean Eight North and Eighty-eight East. They carried the correction in their heads, and if they died unexpectedly, which was their custom, it seems, the secret died with them."