Of the treasure the Duke took £90,000, His Majesty's tenth was something under £20,000, but not much, and the merchants got many of them £8,000 to £10,000, for every £100 they had adventured. This is speaking roundly, as I have heard sums of more and less mentioned in connection with all concerned. Phips's share, as he told me, was £16,000, and would have been more had he not out of his own purse paid to a-many of the seamen some sums which the merchants withheld from them. Cromby's old mother was dead, I found on inquiring, so that I could do nothing there. Now, 'twas some six years afterwards, and when James had been gone nigh that time to France, that Phips wrote to me he was a-coming to England and hoped among others to see me. Yet, alas! we never met again. I was at this time sore troubled with gout and rheumatism--though, I thank God, much of both have passed away--and I could not, therefore, go to see him. Nor, neither was he ever able to come to me. He had not been in London many days when he catched a cold, and this turning to a fever he died. And he was buried in the Church of St. Mary Woolnoth, where, when I was recovered, I went and said a prayer above his tomb. Why should I write a funeral sermon on him for those who never knew him? Suffice, therefore, if I say that he was honest, manly, and God-fearing, and a better man did never live. To me, his subaltern, he was ever kindly, gentle, and friendly, very courteous, yet also, when we came to know each other, very brotherly; and to conclude, I loved him. No need to say more. Now I have done. Almost all the evenings of four months it hath taken me to write this story down--I beginning of it in the bleak cruel nights of winter, and ending of it when the leaves are pushing forth. And I have written as truly as I know how, telling no lies, and trying also very hard to make my story understandable to whomso'er shall come across it. My house--which I bought here, because 'twas across the river in years agone I used to wander with the girl I loved so dear, and because I can see the paths where we walked when I arise from my bed every morning--I shall leave to a Crafer for ever, so that some day, if the line dieth not out, one of that name must find the clue. That it shall be a Crafer I do earnestly hope, but if not it cannot be helped. And in conclusion all I will now say is, that I do pray that whosoever readeth this narrative, and whosoever afterwards shall find the buried treasure on the little Key, he will use it well and nobly, devoting some part of it, if not all, to God's service. Amen. NICHOLAS CHAFER. _The Search by Reginald Crafer_. CHAPTER XXVIII. OFF TO THE VIRGIN ISLES. The passengers by the Royal Mail steamer, especially the younger and fairer members thereof, felt an emotion of genuine regret when Reginald Crafer left the ship at Antigua, there to make the connection with the company's vessel, the _Tyne_, which runs to Anguilla and Tortola fortnightly.