“Well, the Juliette sailed, and was never again heard of.
“That brings my story to an end, and if this is the Juliette, and the money has not been taken, it is within six feet of us—there,” and he pointed calmly to the transoms.
Marsh was greatly excited.
“We shall soon see, Meredith. But first let me say that I am sure that this is your father's missing schooner, and that she is the vessel that thirteen years ago called at Motumoe, and those who sailed her sent Pautôe on shore when she was an infant.”
Then he hurriedly related the story as told to him by Mr. Copley.
Meredith nodded. “No doubt the missionary was right and my father's fears were well-founded. I suppose the German and the Dagoes murdered him and the four Marquesans. Krause, of course, would know that my poor father had money on board. And I daresay that the Dagoes spared the child out of piety—their Holy Roman consciences wouldn't let 'em cut the throat of a probably unbaptised child. Now, Marsh, if you'll clear away the cushions and all the other gear from the transoms, I'll get an auger and an axe, and we'll investigate.”
Rising from his seat in his usual leisurely manner, he went on deck, and returned in a few minutes with a couple of augers, an axe, two wedges, and a heavy hammer.
Marsh had cleared away the cushions and some boxes of provisions, and was eagerly awaiting him.
Meredith, first of all, took the axe, and, with the back of the head, struck the casing of the transoms.
“It's all right, Marsh. Either the money, or something else is there right enough, I believe. Bore away on your side.”