The young man obeyed calling out the name of each article of dress, as he raised it from its receptacle, and passing it over to him who stood there in the character of a sort of heir-at-law.  The last gave each garment a sharp look, and prudently put his hand into every pocket, in order to make sure that it was empty, before he laid the article on the floor.  Nothing was discovered for some time, until a small key was found in the fob of a pair of old ‘go-ashore’ pantaloons.  As there was the till to the chest already mentioned, and a lock on that till, the heir at-law kept the key, saying nothing touching its existence.

“The deceased does not appear to have been much afflicted with this world’s wealth,” said the Rev. Mr. Whittle, whose expectations, to own the truth, had been a little disappointed.  “This may have been all the better for him, when the moment of departure drew near.”

“I dare say he would have borne the burthen cheerfully,” put in Roswell Gardiner, “to have been a little more comfortable.  I never knew a person, seaman or landsman, who was ever the worse for having things snug about him, and for holding on to the better end of his cheer, as long as he could.”

“Your notion of what is best for man as he draws near to his end, captain Gar’ner, is not likely to be of the most approved nature.  The sea does not produce many very orthodox divines.”

The young sailor coloured, bit his lip, cast a glance at Mary, and began a nearly inaudible whistle.  In a moment he forgot the rebuke he had received, and laughingly went on with the inventory.

“Well,” he cried, “this is rather a poorer outfit than Jack is apt to carry! infit, I suppose it should be called, as the poor fellow who owned it was inward bound, when he brought up on Oyster Pond.  You’ll hardly think it worth while, captain Daggett, to take this dunnage across to the Vineyard.”

“It is scarce worth the trouble, though friends and relations may set a value on it that strangers do not.  I see a couple of charts there—­will you hand them this way, if you please?  They may have a value with a sea-faring man, as old mariners sometimes make notes that are worth as much as the charts themselves.”

This was said very naturally and simply; but it gave the deacon a good deal of concern.  Nor was this feeling at all lessened by the earnest, not to say eager, manner in which Daggett, as we shall now call this member of the family, spread the chart on the bed, and began to pry into its records.  The particular chart first opened in this way, was the one including the antarctic circle, and, of course, was that from which the deacon had been at so much pains to erase the sealing-islands, that the deceased mariner had laid down with so great precision and care.  It was evident that the Martha’s Vineyard-man was looking for something that he could not find, and that he felt disappointment.  Instead of looking at the chart, indeed, he may be said to have been peering at it, in all its holes and crannies, of which there were not a few, in consequence of the torn condition of the paper.  Several minutes elapsed ere the investigation terminated, the stranger seeming, all that time, to feel no interest in the remainder of his relation’s wardrobe.