By the time they reached the island camp, the boys had somewhat recovered. But Biff was still shaking as if he had a chill, and Derek’s face was drawn and white.
The narrow escape the boys had undergone was not without its reward, however.
All four of the pearl fishers—Crunch was now one of them—were shucking oysters after a rest and the noonday meal.
Biff, growing more and more bored with the tough job of opening and examining oysters, was about to discard a shell when he noticed a raised protuberance in the exact center on the shell. He took off his glove and dug at the raised part with a fingernail. His excitement grew. Seconds later he dug out an almost perfectly shaped white pearl.
“I’ve got one! I’ve got one!” he shouted.
The others crowded around him. Biff handed the pearl to his uncle.
Charlie Keene inspected it carefully.
“I’m no expert, Biff. But the color, and particularly the shape, of this pearl—I’d say you’ve found a really valuable one.”
“How much? How much is it worth?”
“I couldn’t tell. Only an expert could. But it’s a white pearl—they’re the most valuable. And it’s almost perfectly round. It could be worth several thousands of dollars.”