A coat hanging from a peg by the bunk attracted his attention.
He examined the pockets, and discovered a number of letters, an American dollar, a tobacco pouch, and a pipe. He returned the pipe and the pouch, and placed the letters in his pocket.
"We'll examine them later on," said he; "they may give us some news. Now let's look at this chest and see what it holds."
He raised the lid of a sea chest standing opposite the bunk, and began to explore the contents. It contained mostly clothes, boots, some island curios, and down in one corner another packet of letters, which Schumer took possession of.
On the inside of the lid was nailed the portrait of a stout woman—the unfortunate man's wife, perhaps.
To Floyd there was something mournful in the sight of these few possessions—all that was left on earth of a man living a few weeks ago, or maybe a few days ago, and now vanished utterly; done to death, most probably, by the savages on deck. But Schumer did not seem at all disturbed by any reflections on the matter. With speed but no hurry he went through the business, closed the lid, and rose up.
"Let's get on deck," said he; "we can overhaul the other cabins later on. I have seen what I wanted to see, and there's no use in leaving those fellows on deck too long without attention. I'll have another talk with the big Kanaka, and then we'll go ashore and have a council of war."
"Shall we let any of these chaps land?" asked Floyd.
"Not yet; and when we do we'll land them at the reef by the fishing ground. Looks like Providence, doesn't it? We wanted labor, and it seems we've got it."
"They seem a tough crowd," said Floyd, as he followed his companion up the saloon stairs.