“Strictly speaking, we have no right to break into the thing,” Bethune said; “and it might perhaps lay us open to suspicion; but I’m afraid I can’t keep my hands off until we get home. Get out the tools, Jimmy.”
Jimmy did so, and then, opening the scuttle, called to Moran.
“We’re going to look inside the box. Is it safe for you to come down?”
Moran seemed to make a negative sign, though Jimmy could hardly see him. It had grown dark, and thick fog was driving past the boat, while the spray that beat in through the weather shrouds indicated that she was sailing hard. Dropping back below, Jimmy closed the scuttle and took up a hammer. His fingers shook and he felt his nerves tingle as he drove a wedge under the first band.
“I wish we’d cleaned out the strong-room; but we can come back, and we have got enough to wipe off our debt and give us a luxurious winter,” he said happily. “It will be a change to put up at a good hotel—we might even make a trip to California; and if Jaques can get somebody to run the store we will bring him and his wife to town.”
“It’s not a very ambitious program,” Bethune laughed. “I dare say we can carry it out; though we don’t know yet what our share will come to.”
“I’ll stand out for half,” declared Jimmy with a determined air. “In fact, we’ll make a bargain before we deliver up the stuff.”
Working eagerly, he soon started the band and inserted a chisel under a board. In a few moments he prized it loose, and thick folds of rotten canvas were exposed.
“There seems to be a lot of packing,” Bethune remarked. “There’s a seal here we’ll have to break; but we have smashed one already. Don’t waste time. Rip it open!”
Jimmy used his knife, and plunged his hand into the case. He was surprised by the feel of its contents.