“Often, when I was a youngster. I’ve spoke to him, too. A big man he was, might be six foot an’ more, an’ as strong as a bull.”
“He lived here, didn’t he?” pursued Bee. “Do you remember where his cabin was?”
The visitor’s active eye swept over the slope. “Not exactly,” he answered. “It might have been pretty near where you been diggin—” (An exclamation of satisfaction from Bee.) “Or, again, it might have been more to the land’ard side. I recollect it was between the trees an’ the beach.”
“Then the trees were here then?” asked Jack.
“Them trees has always been here long as I can remember, mate. An’ Big Verny’s cabin was here long before I first seen the island. A funny sort o’ hutch it was, too; built of wreckage an’ pieces o’ tin for a roof. There was a sort o’ shed farther along. He kept a cow an’ a pony in it.”
“Did he live here all alone?” Hal asked.
“No, there was two sons with him some o’ the time. An’ he had a wife once, but she died.”
“Is it true that he used to show lanterns and make ships run on the rocks?” Bee inquired.
“Well, I can’t say as to that, son. There was them as said he did an’ them as said he didn’t. Anyway, there was a sight o’ wrecks around here them days. An’ finally the revenue officers came over here one night—just about sundown it was—and cleaned up the nest. Big Verny they caught, but Jule got away. He was the youngest of the boys. He weren’t so very young neither. Folks say he ran plumb into the sea and swum down the shore to the beach.”