"It was rough on
him too," he continued. "He waited twenty years to have his chance
again. Damn me, if I didn't feel as if I'd hit him in the eye, somehow,
when he begged me to keep him alive long enough to have a look at the
rhino. But it wasn't no use. He had to go, and I told him so.
"Then he did the fine thing: he give me the chart. But he made me swear
on a book of the Mass that if we got the gold we'd send one-half his
share to a woman in Paris, and the rest to his brother, a priest at
Nancy. I'll keep my word--but yes! Eh, Tarboe?"
"You can keep your word for me! What, you think, Gobal, there is no
honour in Black Tarboe, and you've known me ten years! Haven't I always
kept my word like a clock?"
Gobal stretched out his hand. "Like the sun-sure. That's enough. We'll
stand by my oath. You shall see the chart."
Going again inside the cabin, Gobal took out a map grimed with ceaseless
fingering, and showed it to Tarboe, putting his finger on the spot where
the treasure lay.
"The Bay of Belle Amour!" cried Tarboe, his eyes flashing. "Ah, I know
it! That's where Gaspard the pilot lived. It's only forty leagues or so
from here." His fingers ran here and there on the map. "Yes, yes," he
continued, "it's so, but he hasn't placed the reef right. Ah, here is
how Brigond's ship went down! There's a needle of rock in the bay.
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