“James Brackett!” exclaimed his wife, sitting up and glaring at him indignantly, “I believe you’re going crazy over money. That’s all you think about, is money—and all you talk about is money; and now here you are dreaming about money. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, jumping out of bed in the middle of the night and screaming ‘money,’ and frightening me almost to death? You come back to bed!”
But the squire did seem to have gone actually crazy, for it was evident he was fully awake. He continued to prance about excitedly, exclaiming, “It’s money! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” until poor Mrs. Brackett was at her wit’s end.
Ignoring alike her entreaties and her scornful remarks, he descended to his office, drew forth the mystical paper, eyed it triumphantly for a moment, and then wrote as follows:
“Chambers says MONEY must be still aboard yacht.”
“Hooray!” cried the squire. “There it is. Oh, I reckon I’m pretty deep, myself. Yes, and I see the rest of it now.” The squire finished the letter thus:
“Sound under third starboard locker.”
“That’s right,” he said. “That means there’s some sort of a secret chamber in one of the starboard lockers, and that by sounding, or hammering, on the right spot, it will echo hollow, or give some sound different from the other boards. Oh, I’ll get that yacht, no matter what I have to pay—and I’ll get the money, too. I reckon I haven’t cut my eye-teeth for nothing.”
The squire could hardly close his eyes for the rest of the night. By daybreak he was out alongside the Viking.
“Look here,” said Squire Brackett, as he opened the doors of the cabin, and peered in at Henry Burns and Harvey, who were at breakfast, “I want you boys to do me a little favour.”
Harvey’s face betrayed his astonishment.