On this island, whichever it was, the dollars were carried ashore and buried above high-water mark in a snug little bay to the south; the mutineers, according to the prevailing superstition of such gentry, burying the body of their murdered captain on top of the treasure, so that his ghost might prevent any unprivileged intruders from meddling with their cache. The navigator said, just as I was going down below after finishing my job, that this tale was told to an English sailor by one of the surviving mutineers; and he added that the Admiralty were so much impressed by its appearance of truth that Admiral Hercules Robinson, the grandfather, I believe, of our present High Commissioner at the Cape of Good Hope, was actually sent out to make a search for the treasure when in command of HMS _Prometheus_, in 1813. We coaled at Teneriffe, putting into the harbour of Santa Cruz for this purpose; and Mick and I were much struck by the fact of the black ladies who carried the baskets of coal on their heads along the jetty from the shore to the ship, doing the job, too, in first-rate style and as good as any gang of wharfingers at home, all of them wearing the most expansive crinolines, which, with their thin dresses and black stockings, of nature's own provision, had a very comical effect! "Faith!" exclaimed Mick, after watching these dusky belles with much interest for some time, the lot of them chattering and laughing away, showing their teeth, which a dentist would have given something to possess for his showcase, "Oi'd loike Father O'Flannagan jist for to say thim quare craychurs, Tom, me hearty, if ownly to say him toorn oop the whoites ov his oyes. Bedad, he'd be afther sprinklin' 'em wid howly wather an' exorcisin' on 'em, ez if he'd sayn the divvle, sure!" Jones the signalman, who was standing near when Mick said this, laughed. "Your old priest would have his work cut out for him in more ways than that," said he, with a very significant wink to one of the other hands, "if he'd only go to Grand Canary instead of Teneriffe!" The name he mentioned at once made Mick cock his ear. "Grand Canary," repeated my chum after the signalman, with a puzzled look on his face. "Ain't thet the place, Tom, whare thim yaller burds yer sisther Jenny has, sure, at home comes from? She s'id they wor canaries, Oi'd take me davy!" "Of course, they are, Mick," said I, in reply to this. "Why, mother must have a hundred of them in the shop at this very minute, besides those little ones she brought up herself which Jenny used to act as nurse to!" "Och, sure, Oi rimimber thim will enuff," answered Mick, with a melancholy look on his face, as if his mind had turned back from Santa Cruz to Bonfire Corner all of a sudden and to our little house there. "An' thet little chap ov a canary thet had a crist on the top ov his hid, loike a crown, sure, thet yer sisther Jenny used fur to make so much ov--the little darlint!"