The way the story goes, the old man hit the weighmaster and he went flying over three puncheons. He was in so bad a shape that they had to take him to the hospital. Grandfather got to keep the rock.

He could have sued Baird's. They gave him something, I don't know what. Anyway they pacified him and that was all there was about it.

My Uncle Ned Blackwood was there when they were weighing grandfather's fish. Uncle Ned kept the rock.

And every one of us, when we went to St. John's and went to his house, Uncle Ned would show us the rock. He would tell us the story of grandfather and the Rock in the Box. I don't know what happened to it after he died.

A good many years ago, to get a bottle of liquor you had to go and buy a liquor book. I went to get one. There was an old fella there, a clerk, a white-haired man.

When I told him my name, he said to me, "Did you ever hear the story of the rock in the box?"

I said, "Yes, many times."

"Was that old fella any relation to you?"

"Yes, he was my grandfather."

He said, "If I had time, I'd tell you the story of the rock in the box. I was on Baird's wharf when that happened." But there were other people lined up there to get liquor books.

I never got his story. I never saw him after.