have been set here for a mark, for I’m sure ’twas not here yesterday or the day before.” He stood looking about him to see if there were other signs of the pirates’ presence. At some little distance there was the corner of something white sticking up out of the sand. He could see that it was a scrap of paper, and he pointed to it, calling out: “Yonder is a piece of paper, sir. I wonder if they left that behind them?”
It was a miraculous chance that placed that paper there. There was only an inch of it showing, and if it had not been for Tom’s sharp eyes, it would certainly have been overlooked and passed by. The next windstorm would have covered it up, and all that afterward happened never would have occurred. “Look, sir,” he said, as he struck the sand from it, “it hath writing on it.”
“Let me see it,” said Parson Jones. He adjusted the spectacles a little more firmly astride of his nose as he took the paper in his hand and began conning it. “What’s all this?” he said; “a whole lot of figures and nothing else.” And then he read aloud, “‘Mark—S. S. W. S. by S.’ What d’ye suppose that means, Tom?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Tom. “But maybe we can understand it better if you read on.”
“’Tis all a great lot of figures,” said Parson Jones, “without a grain of meaning in them so far as I can see, unless they be sailing directions.” And then he began reading again: “‘Mark—S. S. W. by S. 40, 72, 91, 130, 151, 177, 202, 232, 256, 271’—d’ye see, it must be sailing directions—‘299, 335, 362, 386, 415, 446, 469, 491, 522, 544, 571, 598’—what a lot of them there be—‘626, 652, 676, 695, 724, 851, 876, 905, 940, 967. Peg. S. E. by E. 269 foot. Peg. S. S. W. by S. 427 foot. Peg. Dig to the west of this six foot.’”
“What’s that about a peg?” exclaimed Tom. “What’s that about a peg? And then there’s something about digging, too!” It was as though a sudden light began shining into his brain. He
