I sat upon the cross-trees with my arm around the weather main top-gallant shrouds. I looked to windward occasionally, but I kept the run of all that was transpiring on deck. I saw the mate go into the forecastle, and I had no doubt he was looking for the fifteen hundred dollars in gold which had first been in my trunk, then in his, and was now in my coat pocket. If he was actually looking for the money, it would be a difficult matter for me to conceal it; but I was determined to throw it overboard rather than permit him to have and enjoy it. I took the bag from my pocket, and considered what disposition I should make of it.
"On the cross-trees!" shouted Waterford.
"Ay, ay, sir!" I replied.
"Come down!"
I might as well throw the gold into the sea, as go down with it in my pocket. I jammed the bag in between the trestle-trees, and after assuring myself that it was secure, I went down to the deck.
"Have you any liquor about you, Phil?" demanded the mate, as I reported myself to him.
"No, sir; I never use liquor."
"Let me see," said he, proceeding, without ceremony, to search me, which he did in a very thorough manner.
I knew what he was looking for, and I held still, patiently submitting to the operation.
"On the cross-trees again," said he, savagely, when he had completed the search.