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Updated: May 9, 2025
I jist wish I had that money in a chist in the cellar. He kep' it for me, he said, an' so he did, an' he keeps it yet, and oh! but the room, come right along, this way, mam," and we followed her steps.
"Why, then, that's something to start from, Tom," said his friend. "If we can find that, then maybe we can find whither they went from there." "If I was certain it was a treasure box," cried out Tom Chist, "I would rake over every foot of sand betwixt here and Henlopen to find it." "'Twould be like hunting for a pin in a haystack," said the Rev. Hilary Jones.
She'll be down in a minute, she said; she thought she'd have time afore supper to get to the bottom of the big chist, and see if that 'ere vest pattern ain't there, and them sticks o' twist for the button-holes, 'cause Roxy she says she never see nothin' so rotten as that 'ere twist we've been a-workin' with, that Mis' Pennel got over to Portland; it's a clear cheat, and Mis' Pennel she give more'n half a cent a stick more for 't than what Roxy got for her up to Brunswick; so you see these 'ere Portland stores charge up, and their things want lookin' after."
Tom carried a spade over his shoulder and the reverend gentleman walked along beside him with his cane. As they jogged along up the beach they talked together about the only thing they could talk about the treasure box. "And how big did you say 'twas?" quoth the good gentleman. "About so long," said Tom Chist, measuring off upon the spade, "and about so wide, and this deep."
The tension grew so great as she lingered there in the shadows that cold drops stood on Demeré's face, and the hand with which Stuart held the firelock trembled. "It's a woman that can't get enough of anything," O'Flynn muttered to himself. "I'll have the lockjaw in me lungs, for I'm gittin' so as I can't move me chist to catch me breath."
He saw the dim form of the captain crossing the level sand, and then, as the moon sailed out from behind the cloud, he saw the white man standing over a black figure that lay motionless upon the sand. Then Tom Chist scrambled up and ran away, plunging down into the hollow of sand that lay in the shadows below.
So much for the beginning of the history of Tom Chist. The story of Captain Kidd's treasure-box does not begin until the late spring of 1699. That was the year that the famous pirate captain, coming up from the West Indies, sailed his sloop into the Delaware Bay, where he lay for over a month waiting for news from his friends in New York.
"Chist wait," Roderick said, with much simplicity; and then he and the gillie withdrew a little way down the peat-hag, so that they might have their luncheon and a cautious whispering in Gaelic by themselves. It was tantalizing in the last degree.
"'Sh! that's it! that's what I come for. It's her chist." "Whose?" "Your aunt 'Liza's." She looked Isabel in the face with an absurd triumph and awe. She had done a brave deed, the nature of which was not at once apparent. "What's in it?" asked Isabel, walking over to it. "Don't you touch it!" cried her aunt, in agitation. "I wouldn't have you meddle with it But there! it's locked.
"Indeed, there is plenty of them in the chist, but he will be keeping them for the communion season, and the funerals, and such. He will not be wearing them in his bed, for no one will be seeing him there at all." "But he will feel so much better," said Mrs.
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