"None of your impudence. I believe you have liquor in your trunk, and I shall examine it again."
I gave him my key.
"Now, go up to the main cross-trees, and keep a lookout to windward for any sail. If you see anything, hail the deck."
"Ay, ay, sir," I replied, moving forward.
"Where are you going?"
"After my coat, sir."
"Obey my order."
Instead of going to the forecastle, as I supposed he would, he went aft, and then into the cabin. I took my coat from the berth where I had left it. From the movements of the mate, I concluded that he was going below to see if my key would fit his trunk, and thus determine whether I had opened it or not. I deemed it prudent to take my treasure from its hiding-place, and put it into my pocket, for I feared that a search would be made during my absence. I had not been aloft since I signed the shipping articles, though I had done so during my first visit to the bark. I knew where the main cross-trees were, and I was soon seated upon them, with my eyes turned to windward.
Of course I had not been sent aloft to keep a lookout for a sail to windward. I was simply exiled to this lofty perch that I might be out of the way while the mate searched for the gold in my trunk. I had no objection to the cross-trees; on the contrary, I rather liked the idea of being upon them. I should not have to answer any hard questions during the examination.
Of the two events which occurred on the first day of my sea-life, CRINGLE AND CROSS-TREE are the most prominent in my mind.