The black fellow nodded, looked in the tub, and then as if quite at home at the work, picked up the great bamboo lying ready for the purpose and set two of his followers to give all the other tubs a good stir-up, the result being a most horrible odour of such extent that, but for the breeze blowing and their getting on the windward side, it would have been unbearable.
But it had not the slightest effect upon the beachcomber, who stood looking on while Black Jack and a companion heaved together and tried to overturn the oldest tub, but without result.
A yell to the other two brought them up, and with their aid the tub of malodorous thick water was gradually overturned, and the foul water poured off, to sink at once into the thirsty sand.
“Hold hard,” cried the beachcomber, when the bottom was nearly reached. “Water.”
Three black fellows ran off with a bucket each and returned to Jack, who poured one in and gave it a swirl round, handed the bucket to be refilled, allowed the contents of the tub to settle, and then began to pour out the top very gently.
Carey was so intensely interested that for the time being he forgot his painful position.
“I say,” he cried, “these black chaps have done this sort of thing before.”
“Hundreds of times,” growled their chief, and then he was silent, while even the doctor began to feel that his eagerness to see the contents of the tub was mastering his misery and disappointment that the pearls should fall into such hands.
So they watched till half a dozen buckets had been severally poured in and emptied out, and then there was a hoarse chuckle from the beachcomber.
“I’ll forgive yer,” he growled. “You aren’t done so badly for me. That’s a nice take o’ pearls, and there’s some fine big uns among ’em. Up higher, Jack, and let the sun dry them a bit. Next one.”