LOST ISLAND
the ground-swell and various reminiscences had been exchanged, the conversation drifted towards pirates of other days and treasure-trove,
"That reminds me," Tempest said, "of a queer bit of news Dave here picked up some time ago in America. Do any of you remember hearing of a treasure-ship called the Hatteras being lost in the South Seas years ago?"
"The Hatteras," Captain Grummitt repeated slowly, taking the cigar from his mouth and squinting at the swaying lamp overhead. "No, I don't seem to recall it for the minute. What did she have on board?"
"There was nothing special on board," replied Tempest, "except a consignment of platinum belonging to a passenger who had spent a couple of years or so mining it. He was taking the stuff to San Francisco from Sydney."
"Wait a minute," the skipper interrupted, unscrewing the cigar again, pensively. "I seem to have a hazy recollection of something of the sort,
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