“It seems to be in small ingots,” he said.
“That’s curious, because there’s no smelter in the country. Slash the wrapping to bits and let’s see it!”
Jimmy did so and then uttered an exclamation as he dropped the object he took out. It was dark-colored, and fell with a dull thud.
“It’s lead!” he cried.
Tilting the case in savage anger, Jimmy shook out a number of small gray lumps. They scattered about the floorings, and when he gashed one with his knife the metal cut soft and showed a silvery luster. He dropped the knife and his face grew hard and white. There was tense silence for a moment, and then Jimmy, rousing himself with an effort, flung the scuttle back.
“Hank!” he called, and his voice was strangely hoarse.
It seemed that Moran recognized the urgent tone, for they felt by the change of motion that he was altering the boat’s course, but with characteristic coolness he neglected no seamanlike precaution. Jimmy heard the jib being hauled aback and the mainsheet got in, and she was hove to, rising and falling with an easy lurch, when Moran dropped through the scuttle. He stooped over the box, and after a time looked up with a heavy frown.
“Some crook has worked off a low-down trick on us!” he said.
“On the underwriters first, but that’s no matter,” replied Bethune, who was struggling against the shock. “Slit one of the bags, Jimmy, and let’s see if it’s all the same.”
Jimmy took the bag he had found in the wreck, and when he cut it open a few coarse, yellow grains ran out.