"They reckoned the cargo was only cork and wine, but there was sixteenth century Spanish gold smuggled in that hold. And when it washed up to shore, Steadfast Putnam— then just a young man—stole it from his fellow wreckers."Usually Storm would discount such fables as mere entertainment. However, Reverend Coles was a sensible fellow, not one to let his imagination run away with him, and it was well known that smugglers and wreckers had worked along the Cornish shore years before. Even the previous owners of Roscarrock Island had been involved at one time. So when Coles sat by Storm's fire on that chilly evening and told him of Steadfast Putnam's deathbed confession, whispered in his ear just a few days before, it was impossible to ignore."He didn't tell me what he did with the gold, or where he hid it. The dying man whispered this much with his last breath and then sank into unconsciousness. I suppose, in extremis, the crime weighed heavily on his mind. I must say I was surprised. He never struck me as a man with much conscience."Only a few weeks after this conversation, Reverend Coles was dead too.
