“There’s no question but that something must be left. We’ll pack the most important, and then decide as to the rest. Come on, it won’t take long to overhaul what is in the attic.”
The only idea in the minds of the boys was to secure that which would serve as a receptacle for their goods until the same could be carried to the schooner, and, on finding the well-worn chest, it was only natural to first make sure that it was empty.
The rusted lock was fastened, and, eager to complete the work as soon as possible, Gil knocked the hasp off by kicking at it, after which the lid was thrown open.
At first glance one would have said that it contained nothing, but on turning it upside down several articles rolled out.
Idle curiosity, rather than a belief that anything important would be found, caused the boys to pick up the contents, and Nelse cried, as he went toward the window:
“Say, Gil, here’s a piece of an old newspaper, containing what appears to be an old story. Where did the chest come from?”
“I don’t know. Read what you have found, if it is interesting.”
“There is a long account here, but if you can keep quiet a few moments, I’ll make it out, in spite of the many creases and the dirt.”
Then Nelse began the following:
“North of that wild promontory which projects itself into the tropic waters of the Mexican Gulf at the northwestern extremity of Hayti, and four miles to seaward of the ancient town, lies a rocky inlet known as Tortuga de Mar. In size and aspect it is insignificant. Yet, lilliputian and unfamiliar though it now is, it gave birth to the most merciless and picturesque class of marine cutthroats known to history.”