Naboth coughed out about a gallon of water, and Rameses III shook himself and scowled, and says to Naboth, “I’d a let you drownd, dog-gone ye, but if I had I wouldn’t ’a’ got the chanct to knock you into a cocked hat like I’m a-goin’ to the minnit this tired spell’s wore off.”
“I wondered what old Tom was for,” says Catty. “Haven’t heard him say a word yet, have you?”
“Guess he’s dumb,” says I. “Whoa. Look there. What’s going on?”
I pointed off towards the big steam yacht, and there, putting off from her shining black sides, were two boats full of men. I grabbed the glasses and counted. There were ten men altogether.
“Now what?” says I.
One boat made off up the bay toward the treasure ground, and the other headed for Nantucket dock. Something was afoot sure, and our business was to keep our eyes open to find out what. We found out in an hour that we couldn’t find out. It was a puzzle. The first boat kept right on and landed way up the beach near the hole Mr. House had dug. The second one tied to the wharf and four of the men climbed ashore and disappeared. We waited and waited, and pretty soon they came back carrying big bundles and three or four things that looked like enormous fried cakes.
“Life preservers,” says I.
“Nope,” says Catty, “too heavy. Look how the men carrying them sag down.”
That was so. Whatever those fried cakes were, they took all a man’s strength to carry one. Well, the crew loaded them in the boat and then they rowed off up the harbor and landed right by the first boat, and unloaded. We couldn’t see very well, but we could make out movement among the bushes and sand dunes like those ten men were working pretty hard. Next we saw Mr. House put off in his power dink and go up there.
“To boss the job,” says Catty, “whatever it is.”