He stepped forward to make a further examination, and the boys, mastering their instinctive dread of the uncanny scene, also approached the table.
The writing beneath the dead man's hand was on a fragment of paper, yellowed with age and covered with scrawlings grown brown from the same cause. Mastering his repugnance, the ensign took the paper from under the skeleton's fingers that still rested upon it.
"What is it?" demanded Rob.
"Look at it for yourself," returned the officer after scrutinizing the document.
Thus addressed, Rob took the mouldy screed while his chums looked over his shoulder curiously.
"Why, it's nothing but a mass of figures," he exclaimed.
"That is certainly so. Some sort of cipher, I suppose," struck in Merritt.
"That's what it is, I imagine," agreed the ensign; "but see this cross marked in red ink in the midst of the figures! What can that be intended for?"
"If you don't mind, I'll try to figure this out sometime," said Rob. "I'm rather fond of working cryptograms and such things. It will serve to pass the time, too, when we reach the Island."
"That is perfectly agreeable to me," returned the officer. "If you can make anything of it, it may serve to solve the mystery of this ship. For that a mystery there is about the whole thing, I feel certain."