In a roaring tone he started to sing. It was a wild song of the rover’s life and the singer flung his whole soul into the performance. I can remember the first stanza, which he repeated several times as if it were a kind of refrain. This was how it went: “Sing ho, my lads, for Bellamy bold, For he is king of the main! He’s filled the hold with yellow gold From the galleons of Spain. Then bear away by the light of the moon, We carry a rover’s freight-- Sing ho, for the gleam of a yellow doubloon And the chink of pieces of eight! Sing ho, etc.” There were several verses in the same spirit telling of fair-haired and blue-eyed maids in Bristol town awaiting the homecoming of the rover who, however, was well content to lavish his wealth on the darker-hued sirens whose flashing eyes welcomed him to the bowers of love in the sunny isles of the southern seas. The effect of the song was to restore good feeling between the pair and the subsequent discussion was free from acrimony. They talked about the treasure. Goody Hallett insisted that the sea must have encroached on the spot where it was hidden, and scattered it. The shifting sands then covered it. She admitted having recovered some of it and expressed her willingness to share with her guest. On his part, he urged that now was the time to settle; he must be leaving immediately as his ship awaited him in Bostoin and he would be absent for a long time. Goody Hallett agreed to this. There was some little haggling over the division of the spoil, but the man appeared convinced that the old woman was telling the truth and accepted what she gave him. He promised to revisit the place at the end of the voyage and resume the search for the lost treasure. Then the light was put out and all was silence. Filled with astonishment at this strange occurrence, I mounted my horse and continued my journey to Mr. Avery’s. ’Twas very late when I arrived but I found my friend sitting up. The saintly minister was much alarmed and astonished when I told him of my adventure. He had heard some talk about this strange man but put it down to idle gossip. Together we rode to Goody Hallett’s hut next day, but there was no trace of the stranger, and the old woman vehemently denied that any such person had ever been there! * * * * * “Now, Goodman Rich, what do you think of it?” asked the minister when he had finished. My father acknowledged that he had heard of the man’s presence in the neighborhood. He believed him to be the Englishman who was one of the survivors of the “Whidah” wreck; in fact, the minister’s story confirmed this. Perhaps he was Sam Bellamy himself? As to that, however, he was present at the burial of the drowned pirates and he remembered one corpse being identified as that of the pirate captain. Next morning the minister went his way after profusely thanking my parents for their hospitality.