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As Aunt attaches great importance to Mrs. Saxby's opinion, she looked at me relentingly and said: "Well, I will think it over and let you know in the morning, Marguerite." Now, everything depends on the sort of humour Aunt is in in the morning. July Twentieth. This morning was perfect, and after breakfast Aunt said, condescendingly: "I think you may attend church if you wish, Marguerite.
Bill Saxby's tattered diary supplied a scrap of paper and Jack dug charred splinters from the inside of the canoe which enabled him to draw a charcoal sketch or map. It traced the smaller stream from the fork where it had branched off, the stretch in which it widened like a tiny lagoon or bayou, and the point of shore just beyond which the pirogue had unexpectedly rammed Blackbeard's boat.
Marchant are said to have had the same strain as that at Rosehill, and certainly one of the most famous sires who is to be found in most Sussex pedigrees was Buckingham, by Marchant's Rover out of Saxby's Fan.
Bill Saxby's eyes of baby blue were big and round as saucers as he wildly flourished his paddle as the only cudgel at hand. With a whoop-la, old Trimble Rogers leaped to his feet, the long musket at his shoulder. Before he could aim at the savage, bushy figure of Blackbeard, the prow of the pirogue crashed into the side of the cock-boat, striking it well toward the stern.
There were about twenty of us in together, but being pretty near the top, I was soon on my legs, and seeing an opening, I bolted right forward sent three or four fellows flying dashed down the passage behind Saxby's wine vaults, across the Steyne, floundering into the drifts, followed by the mob, shouting and pelting me all the way.
It rested in front of Blackbeard's knees, the top showing above the curve of the gunwales. It was a sea-chest, uncommonly large, built of some dark tropical wood and strapped with iron. Old Trimble Rogers' fierce eyes glittered and he licked his lips. He leaned over to whisper in Bill Saxby's ear the one word: "Treasure!"
Bill Saxby's innocent blue eyes were suffused and his chubby face sorrowful at the thought that they might not meet again. Trimble Rogers fished out his battered little Bible and quoted a few verses, as appeared to be his habit on all solemn occasions. Jack Cockrell knew him well enough by now to find it not incongruous.
"There you put me in stays," confessed Joe. "One thing I can swear. They were sent to look for Blackbeard's ships. And I sore mistrust they were caught whilst prowling near the camp. Else they would ha' come back to the canoe before day." THE singular discovery of Bill Saxby's jacket was like a shock to drive all else out of their minds.
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