University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE MONEY-DIGGERS AND OLD NICK.

This is a money digging world of ours; and, as it
is said, “there are more ways than one to skin a cat,”
so are there more ways than one of digging for money.
But, in some mode or other, this seems to be the universal
occupation of the sons of Adam. Show me
the man who does not spend one half of his life long
in digging for money, and I will show you an anomaly
in the human species. “Hunger will break through
a stone wall,” but love of money will compass earth
and sea, and even brave heaven and hell, in pursuit
of its object. The dark and bloody highwayman, in
the silent hours of night, seeks a lonely pass on the
public road, waits the approach of the coming traveller,
puts a pistol to his breast and a hand to his pocket,
takes his treasure, and flies to seek another spot and
another opportunity for a repetition of his crime, and
that is his mode of digging for money. The less daring
robber takes his false keys, and makes his way at

midnight into the store of the merchant, or the vaults
of the bank, bears away his booty, and hides it in the
earth; then, pale and haggard, creeps away to his restless
couch, and rises in the morning to tremble at
every sound he hears, and to read suspicion on the
countenance of every one that approaches him—and
that is his mode of digging for money.

Step with me into the courts of justice. Listen to
that learned barrister, pleading for his client. What
eloquence! what zeal! what power! How admirably
does he “make the worse appear the better reason!”
The patient judges sit from morning till night, waiting
for his conclusion, and still it comes not. The evening
waxeth late, and still he goes on citing case after case,
and rule after rule, diving into huge piles of old
volumes and musty records of the law, as eagerly as
if his own life depended on the issue of the trial.
What is it that impels him to all this exertion? I
trow he is digging for money.

And then, do you see that restless politician? The
whole weight of the government is resting on his
shoulders. The salvation of the country depends
upon the election of his candidates. How he rides
from town to town, stirring up the voters! How he
claps the speakers at the public caucus, and with what

assiduity does he seize his neighbor by the button and
lead him to the polls! What is it that gives such fire
to his patriotic zeal, and keeps him in such continual
commotion? The answer is short; he is only digging
for money.

And so it is with all; the merchant in his counting-house,
the mechanic in his workshop, and the farmer
in his field, all are digging for money.

But, laying aside all figures of speech, and all circumlocution,
let us speak of money-diggers proper—
bonâ fide money-diggers—men who dig holes in the
ground, and delve deep into the bowels of the earth,
in search of pots of money and kettles of gold and
silver coin. For such there are, and probably have
been in all countries and all ages.

On the rough and rocky coast of Maine, about ten
miles to the eastward of Portland harbor, lies Jewell's
Island. It is a bright and beautiful gem on the ocean's
breast, full of various and romantic scenery. It has
its green pastures, its cultivated fields, and its dark
shaggy forests. Its seaward shore is a high and precipitous
mass of rock, rough, and ragged, and projecting
in a thousand shapes into the chafing ocean, whose
broken waves dash and roll into its deep fissures, and
roar and growl like distant thunder. On the inland

side of the island, there is a grassy slope down to the
water's edge, and here is a little, round, quiet, harbor,
where boats can ride at anchor, or rest on the sandy
beach in in perfect security. The island has been
inhabited by a few fishermen, probably for a century,
and, recently works have been erected upon it for the
manufacture of copperas and alum, the mineral from
which these articles are produced having been found
there in great abundance.

This island has been renowned as a place for money-digging
ever since the first settlements were planted
along the coast; and wild and romantic are the legends
related by the old dames, in the cottages of the fishermen,
when some wind-bound passenger, who has
left his vessel to spend the evening on shore, happens
to make any inquiry about the money-diggers. But of
all these wild legendary narratives, probably there is
none more authentic, or supported by stronger or
more undoubted testimony, than the veritable history
herein recorded and preserved.

Soon after the close of the revolutionary war, when
the country began to breathe somewhat freely again,
after its long deathlike struggle, and the industry of
the inhabitants was settling down into its accustomed
channels, a sailor, who had wandered from Portland

harbor some forty or fifty miles back into the country,
called at the house of Jonathan Rider, and asked for
some dinner. “But shiver my timbers,” he added,
“if I've got a stiver of money to pay for it with. The
last shot I had in the locker went to pay for my
breakfast.”

“Well, never mind that,” said Jonathan, “I never
lets a fellow creetur go away hungry as long as I've
got anything to eat myself. Come, haul up to the
table here, and take a little of such pot-luck as we've
got. Patty, hand on another plate, and dip up a little
more soup.”

The sailor threw his tarpaulin cap upon the floor,
gave a hitch at his waistband, and took a seat at the
table with the family, who had already nearly finished
their repast.

“What may I call your name, sir, if I may be so
bold?” said Jonathan, at the same time handing a
bowl of soup to the sailor.

“My name is Bill Stanwood, the world over, fair
weather or foul; I was born and brought up in old
Marblehead, and followed fishing till I was twenty
years old, and for the last ten years I've been foreign
viges all over the world.”

“And how happens you to get away so far from the

sea now, jest as the times is growing better, and trade
is increasing?”

“Oh, I had a bit of a notion,” said Bill, “to take a
land tack a few days up round in these parts.”

“Maybe you've got some relations up this way,”
said Jonathan, “that you are going to visit?”

“Oh no,” said Bill, “I haint got a relation on the
face of the arth, as I know on. I never had any
father, nor mother, nor brother, nor sister. An old
aunt, that I lived with when I was a little boy, was
all the mother that ever I had; and she died when I
was on my last fishing cruise; and there was n't nobody
left that I cared a stiver for, so I thought I might as
well haul up line and be off. So I took to foreign
viges at once, and since that I have been all round the
West Indies, and to England, and France, and Russia,
and South America, and up the Meditterranean, and
clear round the Cape of Good Hope to China, and
the deuce knows where.”

“But you say you haint got no relations up this
way?”

“No.”

“Nor acquaintances nother?”

“No.”

“Then, if I may be so bold, what sent you on a

cruise so fur back in the country, afoot and alone, as
the gal went to be married?”

“Oh, no boldness at all,” said Bill; “ask again, if
you like. Howsomever,” he added, giving a knowing
wink with one eye, “I come on a piece of business
of a very particular kind, that I don't tell to everybody.”

“I want to know!” said Jonathan, his eyes and
mouth beginning to dilate a little. “Maybe, if you
should tell me what 'tis, I might give you a lift about
it.”

“By the great hocus pocus!” said Bill, looking his
host full in the face, “If I thought you could, I'd be
your servant the longest day I live.”

“You don't say so?” said Jonathan, with increasing
interest; “it must be something pretty particular
then. I should like mighty well to know what 'tis.
Maybe I might help you about it.”

“Well, then,” said Bill, “I'll jest ask you one
question. Do you know anything of an old school-master,
about in these parts, by the name of Solomon
Bradman?”

“No—why?”

“Never heard anything of him?” said Bill, with
earnestness.

“Not a word,” said Jonathan? “why, what about
him?”

“It is deuced strange,” said Bill, “that I never
can hear a word of that man. I'd work like a slave
a whole year for the sake of finding him only one
hour. I was told, the last he was heard on, he was
in some of these towns round here, keeping school.”

“Well, I never heard of him before,” said Jonathan;
“but what makes you so mighty anxious to find him?
Did you go to school to him once, and have you owed
him a licking ever since? Or does he owe you some
money?”

“No, I never set eyes on him in my life,” said Bill;
“but there's nobody in the world I'd give half so
much to see. And now we've got along so fur, jest
between you and me, I'll ask you one more question;
but I would n't have you name it to anybody for
nothing.”

“No, by jings,” said Jonathan, “if you're a mind
to tell me, I'll be as whist about it as a mouse.”

“Well, then,” said Bill, “I want to know, if you
know of anybody, that knows how to work brandy-way?”

“Brandy-way? what's that?” said Jonathan. “If
you mean anybody that can drink brandy-way, I

guess I can show you one,” he continued, turning to
a stout, red-faced, blowzy looking man, who sat at his
right hand at table. “Here's my neighbor, Asa
Sampson, I guess can do that are sort of business as
fast as anybody you can find. Don't you think you
can, Asa?”

Asa Sampson was a hard one. He was helping
Mr. Rider do his haying. He had been swinging the
scythe, through a field of stout clover, all the forenoon,
during which time he had taken a full pint of
strong brandy, and now had just finished a hearty hot
dinner. Mr. Sampson's face, therefore, it may well
be supposed, was already in rather a high glow. But
at this sudden sally of Mr. Rider, the red in Asa's
visage grew darker and deeper, till it seemed almost
ready to burst out into a blue flame. He choked and
stammered, and tried to speak. And at last he did
speak, and says he:—

“Why, yes, Mr. Rider, I guess so; and if you'll
jest bring your brandy bottle on, I'll try to show you
how well I can do that are sort of business.”

Mr. Rider, thinking his joke upon Asa was rather
a hard one, as the most ready means of atoning for
it, called upon Mrs. Rider to bring forward the bottle
at once.

“Come,” said Mr. Rider, “let's take a drop,” turning
out a glass himself, and then passing the bottle to
the sailor and Mr. Sampson.

“I can drink brandy all weathers,” said Bill Stanwood,
filling up a good stiff glass; “but if I could
only jest find somebody that could show me how to
work brandy-way, I should rather have it than all
the brandy that ever was made in the world.”

“But what do you mean by this brandy-way you
talk about?” said Jonathan. “Seems to me that's a
new kind of a wrinkle; I don't understand it.”

“Why, I mean,” said Bill, “I want to know how
to measure brandy-way; that is, how to measure off
so many rods on the ground brandy-way. I never
heard of but one man that fully understood it, and
that was Master Bradman; and I've been told that he
knew it as well as he did the multiplication table.
I've been hunting for that man a fortnight, all round
in these towns about here, and it's plaguey strange I
can't hear nothing of him.”

“Well, I don't know anything about your measuring
brandy-way,” said Jonathan, “and as for Master
Bradman, I'm sure there haint nobody by that name
kept school in this town these twenty years. For I've
lived here twenty years, and know every schoolmaster

that's kept school here since I came into the town.
But, if I may be so bold, what makes you so anxious
to learn about this brandy-way business?”

“Why, I've reasons enough,” said Bill; “I'll tell
you what 'tis, shipmate,” he added, giving Jonathan
a familiar slap on the shoulder, “if I could only learn
how to measure fifteen rods brandy-way, I would n't
thank king George to be my grandfather. I should
have as much money as I should want, if I should
live to be as old as Methusaleh.”

“You don't say so?” said Jonathan, his eyes evidently
growing larger at the recital. “I should like
mighty well to know how that's done.”

“Well, I should a good deal rather see the money
than hear about it,” said Asa Sampson, whose ideas
were somewhat waked up by the effects of the brandy.

“Then you don't believe it, do you?” said Bill. “I
could convince you of it in five minutes, if I'd a mind
to; for I've got the evidence of it in my pocket. If
I could only measure brandy-way, I know where I
could go and dig up lots and lots of money, that have
been buried in the earth by pirates.”

“Are you in arnest?” said Jonathan.

“To be sure I am; I never was more in arnest in
my life.”

“Well, now do tell us all about it, for if it's true,
and you'll give me a share of it, I would n't valley
taking my old horse and wagon, and going round a
few days with you to help hunt up Master Bradman.
And if we can't find him, perhaps we can find somebody
else that knows how to do it. But do you know
pretty near where the money is?”

“Yes, I know within fifteen rods of the very
spot.”

“And you are sure there's money buried there?”

“Yes, I'm sure of it. I've got the documents here
in my pocket that tells all about it. I'm most tired of
hunting alone for it, and, if you're a mind to take
hold and follow it up with me, I've a good mind
to let you into the secret, and let you go snacks with
me; for, somehow or other, I kind of take a liking
to you, and don't believe I shall find a cleverer fellow
if I sail the world over.”

“That's what you wont,” said Mrs. Rider, who
began to feel a strong interest in the conversation of
the sailor. “I've summered and wintered Mr. Rider,
and know just what he is; and I don't think you'll
find anybody that would help you more in looking
for the money, or any cleverer man to have a share
of it after you've found it.”

“Well, that's jest what I want,” said Bill; “so, if
you say so, it's a bargain.”

“Well, I say so,” said Jonathan; “now let's see
your documents.”

Bill Stanwood deliberately drew from his pocket an
old rusty pocket-book, carefully tied together with a
piece of twine. He opened it, and took from its
inmost fold a paper much worn and soiled.

“There,” said he, “that's the secret charm. That's
worth more than King George's crown; if 'twas n't
for that plaguey little botheration about measuring
fifteen rods brandy-way. Now I'll tell you how I
come by this ere paper. About three years ago, we
was on a vige round the Cape of Good Hope, and we
had an old Spanish sailor with us that was a real dark
faced old bruiser. He was full of odd ways. It
seemed as if he'd got tired of the world and every
body in it, and did n't care for nobody nor nothin'.
And every soul on board almost hated him, he was so
crabbed-like. At last he was took sick, and grew
very bad. Day after day he lay in his berth, and
only grew worse. The captain used to send him some
medicine every day, but never would go near him,
and none of the hands did n't go nigh him, only jest
to hand him the medicine when the captain sent it.

And he would take the medicine without saying a
word, and then lay down again, and you wouldn't
know but what he was dead all day, if it was n't once
in a while you would hear him fetch a hard breath,
or a groan. I began to pity him, and I went and
stood, and looked on him. The cold sweat stood in
drops on his forehead, he was in so much distress.
And says I, `Diego, can't I do something for you?'
And I s'pose I looked kind of pitiful on him, for he
opened his eyes and stared in my face a minute, as if
he heard some strange sound, and then the tears
come into his eyes, and his chin quivered, and says
he,

“`Bill, if you'll only jest get me a drink of cold
water, for I'm all burning up inside.'

“And I went and got him some water, and he
drinked it, and it seemed to revive him a little. And
says he to me, `Bill, I'm jest going off upon my last
long vige.' And then he put his hand in his pocket,
and took out this very paper, and handed it to me;
and says he,

“`I meant to have kept this in my pocket, and let
it be throwed with my old carcase into the sea; but
you have been kind to me, and you may have it; and
if ever you go into that part of the world again, it

will show you where you can get as much money as
you want.'

“That night poor Diego died, and we took and
wrapped him in his blanket, and put a stone to his
feet, and threw him overboard; and that was the end
of poor Diego.”

“Poor soul,” said Mrs. Rider, brushing a tear from
her eye, “how could you bear to throw him overboard?”

“Oh, we could n't do nothin' else with him, away
off there to sea. When a poor fellow dies a thousand
miles from land, there's no other way but to souse
him over, and let him go. I pitied the creetur at the
last, but no doubt he'd been a wicked wretch, and I
suppose had lived among pirates. He had scars on
his face and arms, that showed he'd been in some
terrible battles.”

“Well, what was in the paper?” said Jonathan,
beginning to grow a little impatient for the documents.

“I'll read it to you,” said Bill.

So saying, he opened the paper, which was so much
worn at the folds as to drop into several pieces, and
read from it as follows:—

When Bill Stanwood had finished reading his
`document,' there was silence in the room for the
space of two minutes. Jonathan's eyes were fixed in
a sort of bewildered amazement upon the sailor, and
Mrs. Rider's were riveted intently upon her husband;
while Asa Sampson's were rolling about with a strange
wildness, and his mouth was stretched open wide
enough to swallow the brandy bottle whole. At last,
says Bill,

“There you have it in black and white, and there's
no mistake about it. It's all as true as the book of
Genesis. I've been on to the ground, and I've
measured off the half a mile south, and I've measured
the fifty rods east, and I've found the blue stone, but
how to measure the fifteen rods brandy-way, I'll die
if I can tell.”

“Well, that's a tremendous great story,” said Asa
Sampson; “but, according to my way of thinking, I
should rather have it in black and white, than to
have it in red and white. Somehow or other, I never
should want to have anything to do with papers that
are signed with men's blood. I should n't like to be
handling that paper that's buried up in one of them
pots.”

“Poh, that paper's nothing to us,” said Bill; “we

did n't write it. I should as lives take that paper up
and read it, as to read the prayer-book.”

“Mercy on us,” said Mrs. Rider; “read a paper
that's writ with men's blood, and when the old Nick
is set to watch it too? I would n't do it for all the
world, and husband shan't do it neither.”

“But does it say we must have anything to do
with the paper, in order to get the money?” said
Jonathan.

“Not a word,” said Bill. “I tell you that paper
has no more to do with us, than it has with the man
in the moon.”

“But,” said Mrs. Rider, “it does say the old evil
one is set there to watch the money. And do you
think I'd have my husband go and dig for money
right in the face and eyes of old Nick himself? I
should rather be as poor as Job's cat all the days of
my life.”

“There's no trouble about that,” said Bill; “all
we've got to do is to hold our tongues, while we're
digging, and the old feller 'll keep his distance, and
won't say a word to us. At any rate, I'm determined
to have the money, if I can find it, devil or no
devil.

“But that confounded brandy-way, I don't know

how to get over that. That's worse than forty Old
Nicks to get along with.”

“Well, I'll tell you what 'tis,” said Jonathan, “if
you can get within fifteen rods of the money, I can
find it without any help of your brandy-way, that you
tell about.”

“You can?” said Bill, eagerly.

“Yes; if you'll carry me within fifteen rods of
where the money is, I'll engage to find the very spot
where it is buried in less than one hour.”

“You will?” said Bill, springing on his feet, and
giving Jonathan a slap on his shoulder, “Can you
do it? Do tell us how.”

“Yes, I can find it with a mineral rod.”

“What's a mineral rod?” said Bill. “Now none
of your humbugs; but if you can do it, tell us how.”

“There's no humbug about it,” said Jonathan,
tartly. “I know how to work a mineral rod, and I
believe I can find the money.”

“But what is a mineral rod?” said Bill.

“Why, don't you know? It's a green crotched
branch of witch-hazel, cut off about a foot and a half
or two foot long. And them that has the power to
work 'em, takes the ends of the branches in each hand,
and holds the other end, where the branches are

joined together, pointing up to the sky. And when
they come near where there's minerals, or gold, or
silver, buried in the ground, the rod will bend that
way; and when they get right over the spot, the rod
will bend right down and point towards the ground.”

“Now, is that true?” said Bill.

“True? yes, every word of it. I've seen it done
many a time, and I've done it myself. The mineral
rod won't work in everybody's hands, but it 'll work
in mine, and once I found a broad-axe by it that was
lost in the meadow.”

“Well, then,” said Bill, “let us be off forthwith,
and not let that money lie rusting in the ground any
longer. Why not start off to-night?”

“Well, I don't know but we could start towards
night,” said Jonathan; “but I shall have to go out
first and hunt up a witch-hazel tree to get some
mineral rods.”

“It's my opinion,” said Asa Sampson, “you had
better wait a day or two, and finish getting in your
hay before you go; for if you should come back with
your wagon filled with money, you'll be too confounded
lazy ever to get it in afterwards.”

“No, you shan't stir one step,” said Mrs. Rider,
“till that hay is all got in. There's two loads out

that's made enough to get in now, and you know
there's as much as one load to mow yet.”

Mrs. Rider's will was all the law or gospel there
was about the house. Of course her husband did not
undertake to gainsay her dictum, but told Bill they
could not possibly get ready to start before the next
night, as that hay would have to be taken care of
first.

“Well, then,” said Bill, “call all hands, and let's
go at it. Come, where's your scythe? I'll go and
finish mowing that grass down in the first place.”

“But can you mow?” said Jonathan, doubtingly.

“Mow? I guess you'd think so, if you should see
me at it. I worked on a farm six weeks once, when
I was a boy, and learnt to pull every rope in the
ship.”

All hands repaired to the field. Bill Stanwood took
a scythe and went to thrashing about as though he
were killing rattlesnakes. He soon battered up one
scythe against the rocks, and presently broke another
by sticking it into a stump. It was then agreed that
he should change works with Asa Sampson, and help
get the hay into the barn, while Asa mowed. The
business then went on briskly. The boys and girls
were out spreading and raking hay, and Mrs. Rider

herself went on to the mow in the barn to help stow
it away. The next day the haying was finished, and
all things were in preparation to start for Jewell's
Island. Mrs. Rider, however, whose imagination had
been excited by the idea of Old Nick being set to
guard the money, was still unwilling her husband
should go; and it was not till he had solemnly
promised to bring her home a new silk gown, and a
new pair of morocco shoes, and some stuff to make
her a new silk bonnet, that she finally gave her consent.
When the matter was finished, she took a large
firkin and filled it with bread and cheese, and boiled
beef, and doughnuts, for them to eat on their way;
and Bill said there was a great plenty to last till they
got down to the pots of money, and after that they
could buy what they wanted.

Asa Sampson, who was at work for Mr. Rider,
agreed to go with them for his regular daily pay, with
this proviso: if they got the money, they were to
make him a present outright of a hundred dollars,
which he said would be as much money as he should
ever know what to do with.

As a parting caution, Mrs. Rider charged them to
remember and not speak while they were digging,
and told them, lest some word might slip out before

they thought of it, they had better each of them tie a
handkerchief over their mouths when they begun to
dig, and not take it off till they got down to the
money. They all agreed that it would be an excellent
plan, and they would certainly do it.

Mr. Rider's old horse was tackled into the wagon,
the baggage was put on board, and the three fortune-hunters
jumped in and drove off for Falmouth. It
was a long and lonesome road, but the bright visions
of the future, that were dancing before their eyes,
made it seem to them like a journey to Paradise.

“Now, Mr. Rider,” said Bill, “what do you mean
to do with your half of the money, when we get it?”

“Well, I think I shall take two thousand dollars of
it,” said Jonathan, “and buy Squire Dickinson's
farm, that lives next neighbor to me. He's always
looked down upon me with a kind of contempt, because
I was n't so well off in the world as he was; and
I should like mighty well to get him out of the neighborhood.
And I guess he's drove for money too, and
would be glad to sell out. And now, neighbor Stanwood,
I'll tell you what I think you better do. You
better buy a good farm right up there alongside of
me, and we'll build each of us a large nice house, just
alike, and get each of us a first rate horse, and we'll

live together there, and ride about and take comfort.”

“By the hocus pocus!” said Bill, “I hope you don't
call that taking comfort. No, none of your land-lubber
viges for me. I'll tell you what I mean to do.
As soon as I get my money I mean to go right to
Boston and buy the prettiest ship I can find—one
that will sail like the wind—and I'll have three
mates, so I shan't have to stand no watch, but go
below just when I like; and I'll go cap'n of her, and
go away up the Mediterranian, and up the Baltic.
And then I'll make a vige straight round the world,
and if I don't beat Captain Cook all to nothin', I think
it's a pity. And now you better sell out your old
farm up there among the bushes, and go with me.
I'll tell you what 'tis, shipmate, you'd take more comfort
in one month aboard a good vessel, than you
could on a farm in a whole year. What comfort is
there to be found on a farm, where you never see any
thing new, but have the same thing over and over
forever? No variety, no change but everything
always the same—I should get as tired as death in a
month.”

“Well, now, neighbor,” said Jonathan, “you are
as much mistaken, as if you had burnt your shirt.

There's no business in the world that has so much
variety and so many new things all the time, as
farming. In the first place, in the spring comes
ploughing time, and then comes planting time, and
after that hoeing and weeding; and then comes haying
time; and then reaping time; and then getting in the
corn and potatoes. And then, to fill up with a little
fun once in a while, we have sheep washing in the
spring, and huskings in the fall, and breaking out the
roads after a snow storm in the winter; and something
or other new most all the time. When your
crops are growing, even your fields look new every
morning; while at sea you have nothing new, but
the same things over and over, every day from morning
till night. You do nothing but sail, sail, all the
time, and have nothing to look at but water from one
week's end to another.”

Here Bill Stanwood burst into a broad loud laugh,
and says he:—

“Well done, shipmate. I must say you are the
greenest horn I've met with this long time. No
variety and nothing new to be seen in going to sea!
If that aint a good one! The very place, too, to see
everything new and to learn everything that there
is in the world. Why, only jest in working the ship

there's more variety and more to be seen than there
is in working a whole farm, to say nothing about going
all over the world, and seeing everything else. Even
in a dead calm you can see the whales spouting and
the porpoises rolling about. And when the wind is
slack, you have enough to do to stick on your canvas.
You run up your topgallan-sels, and your rials, and
out with your studden-sels, and trim your sheets, and
make all the sails draw. And then you walk the
deck and watch the changes of the wind, and if a
vessel heaves in sight what a pleasure there is in
taking your spy-glass and watching her motions till
she's out of sight again; or, if she comes near enough,
how delightful 'tis to hail her and learn where she's
from, and where she's bound, and what her captain's
name is! And when it comes on a blow, what a
stirring time there is! All hands are out to take in
the light sails; down goes the topgallan' yards; and
if the wind increases you begin to reef; and if it
comes on to blow a real snorter, you furl all sails and
scud away under bare poles. And sometimes, when
the storm is over, you come across some poor fellows
on a wreck, half starved or half froze to death, and
then you out with your boat and go and take 'em off,
and nurse 'em up and bring 'em to. Now here's some
life in all this business, some variety, and something
interesting, compared with what there is on a farm.
You better pull up stakes when we get our money,
sell your old farm and go to sea along with me.”

“Well,” said Jonathan, “I'll tell you what 'tis
neighbor, I'll leave it out to Mr. Sampson here to say
which is the best and pleasantest business, farming or
going to sea. If he says farming, you shall pay the
toddy at the next tavern, and if he says going to sea,
I'll pay it.”

“Done,” said Bill. “Now, Asa, give us your
opinion.”

“Well,” said Asa, “all I can say is, if going to sea
isn't pleasanter business than farming there isn't much
pleasure in it, that's all.”

“But that aint deciding anything at all,” said Bill;
“you must tell us right up and down which is the best
business.”

“Well, if I must say,” said Asa, “I should say
going to sea was the best and the pleasantest.”

“There, I told you so,” said Bill. “Now how fur
is it to the next tavern? I want that toddy.”

“It's jest to the top of this hill,” said Jonathan;
“and bein' the hill's pretty steep, we'll jump out and
walk up, and give the old horse a chance to breathe.”

So out they jumped, and Jonathan drove the horse
up the hill, while Bill and Asa loitered along a little
behind.

“How upon arth,” said Bill, “come you to decide
in favor of going to sea? Did you ever go to sea?”

“I? No I never set foot aboard a vessel in all my
life.”

“Then how come you to know so much about going
to sea?”

“Poh!” said Asa, “all I knew about it was, I knew
Mr. Rider had some money, and I knew you had n't,
and I wanted the toddy. How could I decide any
other way?”

“True enough,” said Bill; “you was exactly right.”

When they reached the tavern, Mr. Rider paid the
toddy, and, after giving the old horse a little provender
and a little time to breathe, the trio pursued their
journey with renewed spirits and livelier hopes.
When they reached the sea-shore at Falmouth, the
sun was about an hour high. They immediately hired
a small row boat for two or three days, leaving their
horse and wagon in pawn for it, and prepared to
embark for Jewell's Island, which was about ten miles
distant. Jonathan was a little fearful about being out
upon the water in the night, and was for waiting till

next morning and taking the day before them for the
voyage to the island. But Bill said no, “they could
go half the distance before sunset, and as there was a
good moon, there would be no difficulty in going the
other half after sunset; and he was determined to be
on the island that night, let the consequence be what
'twould.”

They accordingly put their baggage on board, and
jumped in, and rowed off. Bill first took the helm,
and Jonathan and Asa sat down to the oars. But
being totally unaccustomed to a boat, they made sad
work of rowing, and in spite of all of Bill's teaching
and preaching, scolding and swearing, their oars
splashed up and down alternately in the water, resembling
more in their operation two flails upon the barn
floor than two oars upon the ocean. Their little bark
made but slow headway, and Bill soon got out of
patience, and told Jonathan to take the helm and he
would row himself. Jonathan, however, succeeded
no better at the helm than at the oar; for the boat
was soon heading in all directions, and making as
crooked a track as was ever made by the veritable
sea-serpent himself. So that Bill was obliged to call
Jonathan from the helm, and manage to keep the boat
as straight as he could by rowing. The slow progress

they made under all these disadvantages brought it to
midnight before they reached the island. They however
succeeded at last in gaining the little harbor, and
it being about high water they drew their boat upon
the beach, and walked up on the island towards a
fisherman's hut, which Bill had frequented upon his
former visit to the place. The moon had set, and the
night was now somewhat dark. As they wound their
way along through the bushes and under the tall trees,
not a sound was to be heard, save the low sullen roar
of the ocean, which came like delicious music to the
ears of Bill Stanwood, while to Jonathan and Asa it
added a still deeper gloom to the silence and darkness
of the night.

They had walked but a short distance when a dim
light glittered through the trees, and told them that
the fisherman's hut was near.

“Ah,” said Bill, “old Mother Newbegin is up. I
believe she never goes to bed; for go there what time
of night you will, you will always find her padding
about the room with an old black night-cap on, putting
dishes to rights in the closet, or sweeping up the floor,
or sitting down and mending her husband's clothes.
She looks more like a witch than she does like a
human creetur, and sometimes I've almost thought

she had something to do about guarding the money
that's buried on the island.”

“Well, ain't there some other house about here,”
said Asa, “that we can go to? Somehow, it seems to
me I should n't like to get quite so near that old hag,
if there's any witchcraft about her.”

“There's no other house very near,” said Bill;
“and, besides, I think it's best to go in and see old
Mother Newbegin. For if she is a witch, it's no use
to try to keep out of the way of her; and if we keep
the right side of her and don't get her mad, maybe
she may help us a little about finding the money.”

They approached the house, and as they passed the
little low window, they saw by the red light of a pitch
knot, that was burning on the hearth, the old woman
sitting and roasting coffee, which she was stirring
with a stout iron spoon. They stopped a little and
reconnoitered. The glare of the light fell full on the
old woman's face, showing her features sharp and
wrinkled, her skin brown, and her eyes black and fiery.
Her chin was leaning on one hand, and the other was
busily employed in stirring the coffee, while she was
talking to herself with a solemn air, and apparently
with much earnestness. Her black night-cap was on,
and fastened with a piece of twine under her chin,

and the tight sleeves of her frock sat close to her long
bony arms, while her bare feet and bird-claw toes
projected out in full view below the bottom of her dress.

“I swow,” said Asa, “I believe she has got a cloven
foot. Let's be off; I should rather go back and sleep
in the boat than to go in here to-night.”

“Poh!” said Bill, “that's only the shadow of her
foot you see on the floor; she has n't got any more of
a cloven foot than you have. Come, I'm going in
whether or no.”

With that he gave a loud rap at the door.

“Who's there?” screamed the old woman.

“A friend,” said Bill.

“Well, who be ye? What's your name? I shan't
open the door till I know who you be.”

“Bill Stanwood,” said the sailor.

“Oh, is it you, Bill? Come in then,” said the old
woman unfastening the door, and throwing it open.

“So you're after money again, aint ye?” said the
old woman, as they entered the house; “and you've
brought these two men with you to help you, and
that's what you are here for this time of night.”

“I swow,” said Asa, whispering to Bill Stanwood,
“let's be off, she knows all about it.”

“Hold your tongue, you fool,” said Bill; “if she

knows all about us we may as well be here as any
where else.”

Asa trembled a little, but finally took a seat on a
bench near the door, ready to run, in case matters
should grow desperate.

“Well,” said the old woman, “if you get the money,
you'll have to work hard for it. There's been a good
many tried for it before you; and there's been two
men here hunting all over the island since you was
here before. They dug round in a good many places,
and my old man thinks they found some, for they
give him half a dollar for fetching their boat back
when she went adrift, and he said the half dollar was
kind of rusty, and looked as though it had been buried
in the ground. But I've no idea they got a dollar.
It isn't so easy a matter; Old Nick takes better care
of his money than all that comes to.”

“Where is your old man,” said Bill. “Seems to
me he's always away when I come.”

“The Lord knows where he is,” said the old
woman; “he's been out a fishing this three days, and
was to a been home last night. I've been down to the
shore three times to day to see if his boat was in sight,
but could n't see nothin' of him.”

“Well, aint you afraid he's lost?” said Bill.

“What! old Mike Newbegin, my old man, lost?
No, not he. The wind always favors him when he
gets ready to come home, let it be blowing which
way 'twill. If it's blowing right dead ahead, and he
pulls up anchor and starts for home, it will come
round in five minutes and blow a fair wind till he
gets clear into the harbor.”

Here Asa whispered to Bill again, declaring his
opinion that the old woman was a witch, if nothing
worse, and proposing to leave the house and seek
shelter for the night somewhere else. But Bill resolutely
opposed all propositions of the kind, and Asa,
being too timid to go alone, was compelled to stay
and make the best of it.”

“Well, come, old lady,” said Bill, “you can give
us a berth to lay down and take a nap till morning.”

“Why, yes,” said the old woman, “there's room
enough in 'tother room. If anybody wants to sleep,
I always let 'em, though, for my part, I can't see
what good it does 'em. I think it's throwing away
time. I don't think there's any need of any body's
sleeping more than once or twice a week, and then
not more than an hour at once; an hour of sleep is as
good as a month at any time.”

This strange doctrine about sleep caused Asa's

knees to tremble worse than ever, as he followed Bill
and Jonathan into the other room, where they found
a mattress of straw and some blankets, and laid down
to rest. Bill and Jonathan soon fell into a comfortable
snore, but Asa thought if there was no sleep for
Mother Newbegin there was none for him. At least
he felt little inclined to trust himself asleep in the
house while she was awake. Accordingly he turned
and rolled from side to side, for two long hours, but
could get no rest. He sat up in bed. By a crack
under the door he perceived there was a faint light
still glimmering in the other room. He walked softly
towards the door and listened. He could occasionally
hear the catlike footsteps of the old woman padding
across the floor. Once he thought she came
close to the door, and he drew back lightly on his tiptoes
to the bedside. He wondered how Bill and
Jonathan could sleep so quietly, and stepping to the
other side of the room, he seated himself on a chest
by a low window containing three panes of seven by
nine glass, the rest of the space being filled up with
boards. Here he sat revolving over in his mind the
events of the day, and of the night thus far, and more
and more wishing himself safely at home, money or
no money The night was still dark and gloomy, but
he could now and then see a star as he looked from
the little window, and—

And at last it did glimmer forth; and presently the
grey twilight began to creep into the room, and trees,
and bushes, and rocks, as he looked from the window,
began to appear with distinctness. Asa roused his
companions, and they prepared to sally forth for their
day's enterprise. In leaving the house, they had to
go through the room in which they had left mother
Newbegin when they retired. On entering this room
they found the old woman appearing precisely as they
had left her, gliding about like a spirit, apparently
busy, though they could hardly tell what she was
doing. She seemed a little surprised at their rising
so early, and told them if they would wait half an
hour she would have some breakfast for them. They
gave her many thanks, but told her they had provisions
with them, and, as their business was important,
they must be moving.

“Ah, that money, that money,” said the old woman
shaking her head; “look out sharp, or Old Nick will
make a supper of one of you to-night.”

The party left the house and started for the little
harbor. Asa seemed rather wild at this last remark
of the old woman, and looked back over his shoulder
as they departed, till they had gone several rods from
the house. When they reached the harbor, they
found the boat and all things as they had left them,
and proceeded forthwith to commence the important
work of the day. They set their compass at high-water
mark at the highest point of the harbor, and
took a rod pole and measured off half a mile from
that point due south. They then set their compass at
this place and measured off fifty rods due east. And
here they found the blue stone, as described in the
“documents” which Bill Stanwood had received
from the pirate. The eyes of the whole party brightened
as they came to it.

“There 'tis,” said Bill, “so fur, exact as I told you,
aint it?”

“Yes, fact, to a hair's breadth,” said Jonathan.

“Well, now if you can get the fifteen rods brandy-way,
you'll find the rest jest as I told you,” said Bill.

They then measured of fifteen rods from the blue
stone in various directions, and set up little stakes,
forming a sort of circle round the stone at fifteen rods
distance from it.

“Now,” said Jonathan, “I'll take my mineral rod
and walk round on this ring, and if the money is here
I shall find the spot.”

He then took his green crotched witch-hazel bough,
and holding the top ends of the twigs in his hand, so
that the part where they joined would point upward,
began his mysterious march round the circle, while
Bill and Asa walked, one on each side of him, at a
little distance, and watched the mineral rod. Sometimes
it would seem to incline a little one way, and
sometimes a little the other, but nothing very remarkable
occurred till they had gone about three-quarters
round the circle, when the rod seemed to be agitated
somewhat violently, and began to bend perceptibly
towards the ground, and at last it bent directly downwards.

“There,” said Jonathan, “do you see that? My
gracious, how strong it pulls! Here's the place for
bargains; drive down a stake.”

“I swow,” said Asa, “I never see the like of that
before. I begin to think there's something in it
now.”

“Something in it!” said Bill Stanwood, slapping
his hands together; “did n't I tell you if we could
only find the fifteen rods brandy-way, I would n't

thank King George to be my grandfather? Now, Mr.
Rider, jest hand out your brandy bottle. We have n't
had a drop to-day; and since we've worked brandy-way
so well your way, I should like now to work it
in Asa's way a little.”

“I second that motion,” said Asa, “for I'm as dry
as a herrin'.”

They accordingly took a social drink of brandy and
water, and drank health and success to him who
should first hit the pot of money; and having sat
down under a tree and eaten a hearty meal from their
basket, they returned to mother Newbegin's to prepare
for the labors of the coming night. They
brought from their boat three shovels, a pick-axe, and
a crowbar. The old woman eyed these preparations
askance, and as she turned away, Asa thought he
could discern on her features the deep workings of a
suppressed laugh. The afternoon wore away slowly,
for they were impatient to behold their treasures; and
twice they walked to the spot, which was to be the
scene of their operations, to consult and decide on
the details to be observed. They concluded, in order
to be sure of hitting the pots, it would be best to
make their excavation at least ten or twelve feet in
diameter, and in order to afford ample time to get

down to them at about midnight, they decided to
commence operations soon after dark.

“And now, about not speaking after we begin to
dig,” said Bill; “how shall we work it about that?
for, you know, if one of us happens to speak a word,
the jig is up with us.”

“I think the safest way would be,” said Asa, “to
cut our tongues out, and then we shall be sure not to
speak. Howsomever, whether we cut our tongues
out or not, if you won't speak, I'll promise you I
won't; for I've no idea of giving the old feller a
chance to carry me off, I can tell you.”

“Well,” said Jonathan, “I guess we better tie
some handkerchiefs tight round our mouths, as my
wife said, and we shan't be so likely to forget ourselves.”

This arrangement was finally concluded upon, and
they returned to the house. That night they took
supper with mother Newbegin, and endeavored, by
paying her a liberal sum for the meal, and by various
acts of courtesy, to secure her good graces. She
seemed more social than she had been before, and
even, at times, a sort of benevolent expression
beamed from her countenance, which caused Asa to
pluck up a comfortable degree of courage. But

when it became dark, and they shouldered their tools
to depart, the old woman fixed her sharp eyes upon
them with such a wild sort of a look, that Asa began
to cringe and edge along towards the door, and when
she added, with a grave shake of the head, that they
had better look out sharp, or the Old Nick would have
them before morning, his knees trembled, and he
once more wished himself at home.

The party arrived at the spot. And first, according
to previous arrangements, they tied handkerchiefs
over their mouths. They then measured a circle
round the stake, of twelve feet in diameter, and took
their shovels and commenced throwing out the earth.
The night was still and calm, and though the atmosphere
was not perfectly clear, the starlight was sufficient
to enable them to pursue their labors with
facility. They soon broke ground over the whole
area which they had marked out, and diligently,
shovelful by shovelful, they raised the gravelly soil
and threw it beyond the circle. In half an hour they
had sunk their whole shaft nearly two feet, and were
getting along so far quite comfortably, with bright
hopes and tolerably quiet nerves. No sound broke
upon the stilness around them, save the sound of
their own shovels against the stones and gravel, and

the distant roar of the chafing ocean. But at this
moment there rose a wild and powerful wind, which
brushed down upon them like a tornado. The trees
bent and quivered before it, the leaves flew, and dust
and gravel, and light substances on the ground, were
whirled into the air, and carried aloft and abroad
with great rapidity. Among the rest, Asa Sampson's
straw hat was snatched from his head and flew away
like a bird in the air. Asa dropt his shovel, and
sprang from the pit, and gave chase with all his
might. After following it about fifty rods, it touched
the ground, and he had the good fortune to catch it.
He returned to his companions, whom he found standing
awe-struck, holding their own hats on, and rubbing
the dust from their eyes. It was but a few
minutes, however, before the extreme violence of the
wind began to abate and they were enabled to pursue
their labors. Still the wind was wild and gusty.
They had never known it to act so strangely, or to cut
up such mad pranks before. Sometimes it would be
blowing strongly in one direction, and in one minute
it would change and blow as powerfully in the other;
and sometimes it would whisk round and round them
like a whirlwind, making the gravel they had thrown
but fly like hailstones. Black, heavy, and angry looking
clouds kept floating by, and sometimes they heard
the distant rumbling of thunder. They had never
seen such clouds before. They appeared to them like
huge living animals, that glared at them, as they flew
over, with a hundred eyes. Asa sometimes thought
they looked like monstrous great sea-turtles, and he
fancied he could see huge legs and claws extending
from their sides; and once he was just on the point
of exclaiming to his companions, and telling them to
look out, or that monstrous turtle would hit them with
his claw as he went over; but the handkerchief over
his mouth checked him, and reminded him that he
must not speak, and he only sank down close to the
bank where he was digging. The clouds grew thicker
and darker, but instead of adding to the darkness of
the night, they seemed to emit a sort of broken, flickering
twilight, sufficient to enable them to see the
changes in each other's countenances, and to behold
objects rather indistinctly at some rods' distance.
Each perceived that the others were pale and trembling,
and each endeavored, by signs and gestures,
and plying his shovel with firmness and resolution, to
encourage his fellows to perseverance.

It was now about eleven o'clock, and having measured
the depth they had gone they found it to be

good four feet. One foot more would bring them to
the money; and they fell to work with increased
vigor. At this moment a heavy crash of thunder
broke over their heads, and big drops of rain began
to spatter down. Though nearly stunned by the
report, they recovered in a minute and pursued their
labors. The rain increased rapidly, and now began
to pour down almost in one continued sheet.
Although the earth below them was loose and open,
and drank in the water very fast, still so powerfully
did the rain continue to descend, that in a short time
they found it standing six inches round their feet.
One of them now took a pail and dipped out water,
while the others continued to shovel gravel. Their
resolution seemed to increase in proportion to the
obstacles they met, and gravel and water were thrown
out in rapid succession. The force of the rain soon
began to abate, and they would in a short time have
accomplished the other foot of digging, had not the
loose soil on the sides of the shaft begun to come in by
means of the wet, and accumulate at the bottom faster
than they could throw it out. Several times it gained
upon them, in this way, to the depth of some inches.
While they were battling with this difficulty, and
looking up at the bank to see where it would come in
next, a tremendously great black dog came and stood
upon the brink, and opened his deep red jaws, and
began to bark with terrific power. They shrunk
back from the hideous animal, and raised their shovels
to fright him off; but a second thought told them
they had better let him alone and stick to their work.

They measured their depth again, and found it in
some places four feet and a half, and in others almost
five. They again plied their shovels with all diligence,
and as they stepped to and fro at their work,
that deep-mouthed dog kept up his deafening bark,
and leaping round the verge of the pit, and keeping
on the side nearest them, whenever they approached
the side to throw out a shovelful of earth, he would
spring and snap at their heads like a hungry lion.
Asa seized the pickaxe, partly with a view of defending
himself against the dog, and partly for the purpose
of striking it down to see if he could hit the
pots. He commenced driving the sharp point of it
into the earth, passing round from one side of the pit
to the other, till at last he hit a solid stone; and
striking round for some distance they perceived the
stone was large and flat. Bill and Jonathan made
their shovels fly, and soon began to lay the surface of
the stone bare. They noticed when they first struck

the stone that the dog began to bark with redoubled
fierceness, and as they proceeded to uncover it, he
seemed to grow more and more enraged. As he did
not jump down into the pit, however, they continued
to keep out of his reach and pursue their work.
Having laid the stone bare, and dug the earth away
from the edges, they found it to be smooth and flat,
about four feet square, and six or eight inches in
thickness. They got the crow-bar under one side,
and found they could pry it up. They gradually
raised it about six inches, and putting something under
to hold it, they began, by means of a stick, to explore
the cavity beneath it. In moving the stick round
amongst the loose sand under the stone, they soon felt
four hard round substances, which they were sure
must be the four iron pots. Presently they were
enabled to rattle the iron covers, which gave a sound
that could not be mistaken. At last they got the
stick under one of the covers and shoved it into the
pot, and they heard the jingle of money. Each one
took hold of the stick and tried it; there was no mistake;
they all poked the money with the stick, and
they all heard it jingle. All that now remained was
to remove the great stone. It was very heavy, but
they seized it with resolute determination, and all got
hold on one side with the intention of turning it up
on the edge. They lifted with all their might, and
were but just able to start it. They however made
out to raise it slowly till they could rest it a little on
their knees, where it became stationary. It seemed
doubtful whether they would possibly be able to raise
it on the edge, and it seemed almost equally difficult to
let it down without crushing their own feet. To add
to their embarrassment, the dog was barking and snapping
more fiercely than ever, and seemed just upon
the point of springing upon them. At this critical
moment, a person came up to the edge of the pit, and
bid the dog “Get out.” The dog was hushed, and
drew back.

“I say, neighbors,” continued the stranger, “shall
I give you a lift there?”

“Yes, quick,” said Asa, “I can't hold on another
minute.”

The stranger jumped down behind them and put
his hand against the stone. In a moment the ponderous
weight of the stone was changed to the lightness
of a dry pine board, and it flew out of the pit, carrying
the three money diggers with it, head over heels,
to the distance of two rods.

They picked themselves up as speedily as they

could, and ran for their lives towards the house
When they arrived they found mother Newbegin up,
as usual, and trotting about the room. They called
to her and begged her to open the door as quick as
possible. As the old woman let them in, she fixed
her sharp eyes upon them and exclaimed,

“Well, if you've got away alive you may thank
me for it. I've kept the Bible open for you, and a
candle burning before it, ever since you left the house;
and I knew while the candle was shining on the Bible
for you he could n't touch you.”

They were too much agitated to enter into conversation
on the subject, and being exceedingly
exhausted, they laid down to rest, but not to sleep.
The night passed wearily away, and morning came.
The weather was clear and pleasant, and after taking
some refreshments they concluded to repair again to
the scene of their labors, and see if the money was
still there and could be obtained. Asa was very
reluctant to go, “He did n't believe there was a
single dollar left.” But Bill Stanwood was resolute.
Go he would. Jonathan said “he might as well die
one way as another, for he never should dare to go
home again without carrying his wife's new gown
and morocco shoes.”

So, after due consultation, they started again for
the money-hole. On arriving there, they found their
tools and the general appearance of the place just as
they had left them. There was the great flat stone,
lying about two rods from the pit. And on looking
into the pit, they observed, under the place where the
stone had laid, four large round holes in the sand, all
of which were much stained with iron rust. They
got down and examined the place. There had evidently
been iron vessels there; but they were gone,
money and all.

“Come,” said Asa, “this place smells rather too
strong of brimstone; let us be going.”