"No," he said, slowly, "I can't call to mind any craft; but it's odd that you should have got on this subject with me." Mr.Chalk laid his pipe carefully on the table.
"Why ?" he inquired.
"Well," said the captain, with a short laugh, "it is odd, that's all." Mr.Chalk fidgeted with the stem of his pipe.

"You know of sunken treasure somewhere ?" he said, eagerly.
The captain smiled and shook his head; the other watched him narrowly.
"You know of some treasure ?" he said, with conviction.
"Not what you could call sunken," said the captain, driven to bay.
Mr.Chalk's pale-blue eyes opened to their fullest extent.

"Ingots ?" he queried.
The other shook his head.

"It's a secret," he remarked; "we won't talk about it." "Yes, of course, naturally, I don't expect you to tell me where it is," said Mr.Chalk, "but I thought it might be interesting to hear about, that's all." "It's buried," said the captain, after a long pause.

"I don't know that there's any harm in telling you that; buried in a small island in the South Pacific." "Have you seen it ?" inquired Mr.Chalk.
"I buried it," rejoined the other.
Mr.Chalk sank back in his chair and regarded him with awestruck attention; Captain Bowers, slowly ramming home a charge of tobacco with his thumb, smiled quietly.
"Buried it," he repeated, musingly, "with the blade of an oar for a spade.