“Deuce it is!” cried Carthew. “That settles it, then. Let's stay. We must keep good fires going; and there's plenty wreck.”
“Lashings of wreck!” said the Irishman. “There's nothing here but wreck and coffin boards.”
“But we'll have to make a proper blyze,” objected Hemstead. “You can't see a fire like this, not any wye awye, I mean.”
“Can't you?” said Carthew. “Look round.”
They did, and saw the hollow of the night, the bare, bright face of the sea, and the stars regarding them; and the voices died in their bosoms at the spectacle. In that huge isolation, it seemed they must be visible from China on the one hand and California on the other.
“My God, it's dreary!” whispered Hemstead.
“Dreary?” cried Mac, and fell suddenly silent.
“It's better than a boat, anyway,” said Hadden. “I've had my bellyful of boat.”
“What kills me is that specie!” the captain broke out. “Think of all that riches—four thousand in gold, bad silver, and short bills—all found money, too!—and no more use than that much dung!”
“I'll tell you one thing,” said Tommy. “I don't like it being in the boat—I don't care to have it so far away.”
“Why, who's to take it?” cried Mac, with a guffaw of evil laughter.
But this was not at all the feeling of the partners, who rose, clambered down the isle, brought back the inestimable treasure-chest slung upon two oars, and set it conspicuous in the shining of the fire.
“There's my beauty!” cried Wicks, viewing it with a cocked head. “That's better than a bonfire. What! we have a chest here, and bills for close upon two thousand pounds; there's no show to that—it would go in your vest-pocket—but the rest! upwards of
