"How big is that thing?" he asked, touching it with his foot.
"Don't kick it!" Wrenmarsh responded quickly and sharply. "It's only about a metre square and half as deep. I couldn't make it any smaller."
Jerry whistled with dismay.
"We may lose it overboard on the way to the Merle," he remarked cruelly. Then without heeding the dismayed exclamation of the collector, he ordered the men to take that first. "Put it as far astern as you can," he said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wade in with it."
"For God's sake hurry," cried Wrenmarsh. "I know that beastly carter has put the custodi up to the job by this time. Only don't drop that case!" he added, running along by the side of the bearers with the lantern swinging wildly to and fro and bumping against his legs.
The case was evidently pretty heavy, and the men breathed deep as they carried it across the loose sand. By dint of the men's wading in beside the cutter the big box was safely deposited in the stern-sheets, and the sailors went back for a new load. A second box was stowed without trouble, but as the two others, which were fortunately the smallest, were being lifted by two men each, Wrenmarsh clutched Taberman by the arm.
"Look there!" he cried. "Look there! Quick, men! For God's sake, quick!"
Not more than a hundred yards away on the beach to the southward was an advancing lantern. Suddenly it stopped.
"What is it?" asked Tab.
The men, spurred on by Wrenmarsh, were fairly running across the sand, and Tab skurried along with them toward the boat.