SOMEHOW, or the other the news of my uncle's adventures were noised abroad far beyond the limits of our village, and for a week or more we were besieged with letters and telegrams from various people, most of them absolute strangers, offering congratulations, but more frequently asking impertinent questions about the "San Philipo" treasure. Several London and county papers sent representatives down to interview the survivor of the wreck; but to all requests my uncle turned a deaf ear, politely yet firmly refusing to give any information, so that interest in the mystery grew rather than waned; and exaggerated rumours, amusing no doubt to others, appeared in various journals, greatly to my father's and uncle's disgust. In accordance with his resolution, my father went over to Pridmouth and obtained the metal box with its precious contents, together with the clothes my uncle was wearing at the time of the shipwreck. Curiously enough, his watch, which had been in the water for nearly an hour, was practically uninjured, only a faint trace of rust showing near the hinge, while, on being rewound, it ticked as merrily as ever. We had arranged to defer the opening of the box till the afternoon, when all three of us would be present; but I firmly believe my father could not resist the temptation of glancing inside to make sure the parchment was still there. He arrived home in high good humour, for on the return journey, he had picked up a horseshoe and had crossed the ferry in company with a hunchback, both of which incidents are regarded, even in these matter-of-fact days, as being conducive to a run of "good luck"; and preparations were immediately made for the examination of the mysterious relic of old Humphrey Trevena's seafaring days. I handled the box with a feeling almost of reverence. It was about the size of a cigar-case, and made of a dull, heavy metal resembling bronze, although tarnished with the effects of time and exposure to the salt water. It was embellished on the front of the outside by quaint figures representing Boreal urging a seventeenth-century frigate on its course, with Neptune and Britannia holding a friendly conference in the background, and, on the back, by a monogram of letters "H.T." and the date 1719. "Open it, Reggie," said my father; and, after I had fumbled about with the spring for a few moments, the lid flew open, and I saw for the first time the puzzling piece of parchment which was fated to lead us through great perils by land and by water ere we accomplished our quest. With trembling hands I unfolded the paper, my father and uncle looking eagerly over my shoulder. As Uncle Herbert had already informed us, there was nothing but a big square subdivided into a host of smaller ones, and a few unintelligible words and the symbols of degrees, minutes, and seconds of latitude and longitude, with no figures given, save a solitary figure 1. Here, in fact, is a copy of it--