From the December 16, 1927 edition of the Vineyard Gazette:

“Sixteen men on the dead man’s highboy; yo yo ho ho and a bottle of Tashmoo water!” So sang James West as he uncovered an aged map in a secret compartment of an antique table the other day, said map apparently showing the location of something buried.

The table, a very old one, contains two drawers, the upper one being fitted for the holding of pens, ink and writing material. Something about the pen compartment attracted the attention of Mr. West and after much work he succeeded in removing the supposed cover of what would have been a lower compartment. To his surprise, the cover was no cover at all, but a solid block which filled the space. In one end of the block a small auger hole had been bored and in this was a roll of blue sulphite paper, the stains of acid showing upon it in many places.

At first glance the paper appeared blank, but close examination revealed markings and words which when held under a magnifying glass proved to be a map. Obviously of a small island or a very irregularly shaped field, there are indications that at least one side is supposed to represent beach. The cardinal points of the compass, drawn with a rule, serve to orient the map perfectly. Two spots are marked “T” and may be meant for trees used for ranges. Another spot which forms a triangle with the trees is marked “Rock.”

From the “Rock” to a point extends a line marked “160” and ending at the drawing of what may be a second rock. At right angles to this first line and about one-third of the way from the first rock is drawn a second and much shorter line which ends near the south side of the map, where an irregular shaded spot is drawn and the word “Dig” is written.

What the map may indicate no one has any idea, nor what locality may be thus shown. Mr. West has a better idea than anyone, as he knows part of the history of the table and that it has been in the possession of one of the Island’s oldest families for generations. It is his opinion that the map shows the location of something valuable which is buried treasure perhaps or family silver concealed at the time of Gray’s raid. He believes that the map may have been hidden bu someone who knew of the secret compartment and who perhaps died soon after without being able to reveal its whereabouts.

As to where this spot may be, Mr. West just chuckles and asks his inquirers: “Don’t you wish you knew?” As he knows who owned the table and where the owner lived, he doubtlessly could find the place if he cared to search long enough. Whether he will or not is another questions.

Christmas is almost aboard of us - December is sagging away to loow’rd mighty fast - and the thought comes to the wheelhouse loafer that there is something quite remarkable in being able to get out a fishing column at this time of year. We have quite a report this week, for there were several fishing days, and we old timers can’t help remembering, well, twenty years ago, when there was almost nothing on the move at this season.

Times have changed; so have the fish and markets. The traps have thinned out, the handliners are fewer, but there are more boats, more vessels, and all are much larger. There is a big shellfishing industry and what you might call a year-round season. Engines, good harbors and new methods are responsible for this as well as milder fall and winter weather, and here we land with a good week’s catch just within hailing distance of Christmas time.

Ed Dalen, as usual, came in with the heaviest jag that he took out of his favorite hole just to the nor’west of the Cape de Verdes. There was considerable doing among the little draggers, too, and the catch was heavier than the average. So was the price.

Eeling is all done except for what little spearing there may be, but there are a lot of eels in the cars. Quite a jag of tautag went in from Gay Head. They had been carred for a while, and there were a few lobsters. The market on these last is just beginning to move a little. Sam sold a bunch on Friday and he was glad to see ‘em go.

For deep sea automobiling, Charlie Norton wins the chrome steel inner tubes. Voyaging down to his camp one chilly day a short time ago, he encountered high water, so high in fact that his running gear was submerged. His enthusiasm was moisture proof, however, and the day was a success, but when he started to shove off for home, he found that his brakes were frozen and his lights refused to work. Darkness had descended over land and sea and Charlie navigated by dead reckoning as he came up through the woods, fording the same puddles that he sailed through on the down trip, without taking a sounding. Out on the state road it was a trifle better because the road was slightly different in color from the shrubbery, but for all that it was considerable of an experience and Charlie’s acquaintances all agree that he can qualify as a navigator.

Compiled by Hilary Wall
library@mvgazette.com