Arrgh. Ye won't find no treasure here. Ye might not even find any treasure anywheres...
It were not all that long ago that we had done some profitable ventures in the area of Martiniyeze and were sailin'
West loaded down with Pieces o' Eight. So many of 'em did we have that we decided it might be better to put a few
shares in the ground rather than let them townfolk see 'em an' swindle us out of our hard-won take.
It's best in these matters if'n they's fewer that know where the restin' place be, since the more that know,
the less that stays buried. That bein' the case I set out one mornin' before first light and climbed to a
fine vantage point that swabs wasn't likely to find on accident. A restful place it were, one I wouldn't mind callin'
my last - but that the sea is already sworn to claim me somedays.
It were a slow ways back to the ship in the heat o' the day. I was passin' a trail junction when out from the
bushes jumped highway robbers - that danged Wizard of Omala and three pressgang goons, wavin' straight swords
and shoutin' fer my head. The wizard makes them shut and blocks the way, settin' a demand for my treasure or my
life, one or th' other.
That restful mornin' must have cleared my wits 'cause I'm thinkin' quick right there. I takes my own sword and
scratches some numbers in the path...
Then I stands back and tell them bold, "You lay your four swords upon these marks in the right way, tangs to tips, crossin' no number with no more than one sword, and the
numbers will show you treasure for certain."
Them greedy sons went for the bait right off, forgettin' all about me and puttin' their swords down on the ground.
I spied my opening and hurried away to ship and crew before they ever noticed me gone. Those fellows aren't the
fullest sails in the riggin', if you knows what I mean, and I doubt they've found anything even now.
Stay away, says we. They're probably still up there, swords and all.