missed the iron box with the money and accounts, is hard to fancy; but they did. And the vital documents were found at last in the pocket of Trent's shore-going coat, where he had left them when last he came on board.
Wicks smiled for the first time that morning. “None too soon,” said he. “And now for it! Take these others for me; I'm afraid I'll get them mixed if I keep both.”
“What are they?” Carthew asked.
“They're the Kirkup and Currency Lass papers,” he replied. “Pray God we need 'em again!”
“Boat's inside the lagoon, sir,” hailed down Mac, who sat by the skylight doing sentry while the others worked.
“Time we were on deck, then, Mr. Goddedaal,” said Wicks.
As they turned to leave the cabin, the canary burst into piercing song.
“My God!” cried Carthew, with a gulp, “we can't leave that wretched bird to starve. It was poor Goddedaal's.”
“Bring the bally thing along!” cried the captain.
And they went on deck.
An ugly brute of a modern man-of-war lay just without the reef, now quite inert, now giving a flap or two with her propeller. Nearer hand, and just within, a big white boat came skimming to the stroke of many oars, her ensign blowing at the stern.
“One word more,” said Wicks, after he had taken in the scene. “Mac, you've been in China ports? All right; then you can speak for yourself. The rest of you I kept on board all the time we were in Hongkong, hoping you would desert; but you fooled me and stuck to the brig. That'll make your lying come easier.”
