He had an embarrassment of riches, if ever a man had. According to the story, he had bags of diamonds taken from the _Gunsway_, of fabulous value. Mr. May’s trial suggests that the loot of that ship was money, and nobody says anything about diamonds, but the historian we are now, with a caution, quoting says it was diamonds, and diamonds it shall be. In due time, he got back to Bristol, but now found that he could not sell his diamonds without incurring suspicion as an evil-doer. He tried Ireland, as a place where folks might be less shrewdly curious, but he discovered that the Irish were as much struck as the English by the incongruity, say, of an egg-sized diamond flashing and coruscating in a scarred and pitchy palm,--a feeling not immediately dispelled by the extraordinarily sinister face above them. Back to England--truly a millionaire tramp--where he foolishly resolved to put his trust in merchants. Behind their aldermanic robes and unimpeachable integrity, he expected to be able to put his unique stock-in-trade on the market, which, indeed, he seems to have done, but when he solicited his corpulent agents for an accounting he was met by great round eyes and insulted mouths. “Diamonds? What are you talking about? Diamonds? Begone, you rogue, what do we know of diamonds.” It sounds like some aspects of human nature, but whether it is history, is not for us to vouch. So Henry stewed a trip or two in a coasting forecastle,--where, had he a mind to, he could have told the simple seamen a thrilling story of the sea,--and then curled up and died, “not worth a groat.” Morally, at any rate. CHAPTER FIVE GROAN O’ THE GALLOWS Tom Green I From the thickly forested heights of Cape Masoala one can, without being one’s self observed, sweep, with an easy turning of the head, the broad Indian Ocean that pounds perpetually upon the rocky beach at the base of the Cape; the blue placidity of Antongil Bay up to its farthest reaches; the huddle of huts which make the town of Mananara, on the opposite shore, and the tiny island of St. Mary’s snuggling close to the other portal of the bay.