Inserting the blade of his pocket-knife between the shells of the bivalve, Don prized it open and carefully examined its contents. It contained nothing of any value.
Jack looked listlessly on, while his companion opened shell after shell with no other result than the finding of two or three miserable specimens of pearls, so small that, as Jack laughingly said, “one might stick them in ones eye and forget the moment after where one had put them.”
Only three or four shells now remained unopened, and Don was on the point of abandoning the search in disgust, when Jack, who had edged himself on his elbow as close to the heap as the villainous odour of the decomposed oysters would allow, snatched up a shell of large size, and said:
“Let me have the knife a moment, will you? This looks promising—it's the biggest of the whole lot, anyhow.”
“There you are, then; I've had enough of them myself,” said Don, tossing him the knife and walking off.
He had not proceeded half-a-dozen yards, however, when a loud shout brought him back at a run. Jack and Puggles were eagerly bending over the opened oyster.
“What is it?” he asked breathlessly, going down on his knees beside them.
Jack thrust the half-shell towards him. It was literally filled with magnificent pearls. *
* In 1828 no less than sixty-seven pearls were taken from a
single oyster on these grounds.—J. K. H.
Not a word was spoken as the glistening, priceless globules were carefully abstracted from their unsightly case and laid upon Pug's coffee-coloured palm. Twenty-five pearls of matchless size and brilliancy did Jack count out ere the store was exhausted. So taken up were they with their good fortune that not one of the three observed a native creep stealthily towards them under cover of the tree.