 only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I
            take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when
            my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the
            sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.</p>
            <p><a name="id380370"><!--anchor--></a>I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the
            inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a
            tall, strong, 