All three of the adventurers hurried across the cabin. In the afternoon-light that streamed through the stern-windows Frank fell on his knees and eagerly tried to wrench one of the locks off. Aged as it was, however, it resisted his exertions.
"Hold on!" cried Ben. "I'll get it off." He raised his heavily booted foot, as Frank drew back, and brought it down with a crash on the massive brasswork. With a rending and tearing of the worm-eaten wood the lock ripped loose and the lid, operated by some concealed spring, flew open.
The boys gave a shout of disappointment. Nothing in the way of treasure lay revealed—only a faded velvet cloak edged with tarnished lace.
"Wait a bit," cried Ben tearing off the cloak. "Ah!—"
A different sort of shout came from the boys' throats then. Beneath the cloak lay candle-sticks, gold and silver, great vases, gleaming dull yellow in the mellow light of the gloomy beamed cabin, bowls of the precious metal, splendidly carved, and small parchment bags bulging with the varied shapes of the coins they contained.
The boys dragged the contents of the chest and spread it in a glittering pile.
"So it was no dream of Bluewater Bill's after all," exclaimed Harry.
So excited were they that the boys were anxious to go ahead with the work of breaking open more treasure chests that night; but they yielded to Ben's entreaties and agreed to have supper and a good night's rest before they proceeded to their task. After a meal of bacon, coffee, bread and preserved fruit, cooked on the gasolene stove of the Golden Eagle, the boys professed themselves ready for bed.
"Better sleep aboard the galleon," said Ben.
"Why?" asked Frank.