"Great Scott!" he ejaculated. Then he picked it up and examined it carefully.
In a thin band of red gold was set a carnelian of beautiful tone, the color of a red hyacinth blossom. The stone was oval, cut with an exquisite design in intaglio. It represented a god holding a trident in his left hand, and on his right a small winged figure. His right foot rested on a stone, and he was gazing at the figure he held. The gem was inscribed with the Greek letters ΛΙΛ [Greek: LIL].
Jerry tore open the note. It read as follows:—
Really, my dear fellow, had you viewed me more as a friend and less as a curiosity, you might have found it to your advantage. But to the point. I hope you will wear the ring in memory of our little escapade. The figure represents Poseidon, holding a victoriole in his hand; and is, as the letters signify, designed to commemorate the naval victory of Lilybæum (Capo Boao), in which some of the original wearer's ancestors (more likely pretended than real) were evidently supposed to have taken part. Of course the wearer, though not the cutter, was a Roman; but you won't mind that. Not a bit. So no one gets hurt—your arm, you know—in my behalf without cause to remember the fact—pleasantly. The stone is by no means the best that I obtained, but it seemed appropriate. Poseidon with a victoriole—usually an attribute of Zeus Soter (see your Furtwängler's A. G.)—is rare enough to give the thing value.
With merriment,
Wrenmarsh.
"By Jove!" cried Jerry to himself, gloating over the ring, "what a calf I was to that—that white man! By Gad, though, he was a stunner, and no mistake!"
He slipped the gold band on his finger. After a time of admiration he took a book from the shelf, and tried to read; but every minute or two he stopped to look again at the jewel.
He had not turned many pages when he heard a boat alongside, and a strange voice hailing.
"Hallo," he thought. "I wonder what that is. It can't be the port officer; we satisfied him at daybreak."
He tossed aside his book, and went on deck. A shabby jolly-boat was lying alongside. Jerry noted instantly and with consternation that she was manned by six men in uniform, in charge of a burly old fellow liberally adorned with brass buttons and gold braid, who looked to be every inch a sea-dog. At a second glance Tab decided that these men were not government employees, such as coast-guards, but belonged to some sort of a company. With one stunning blow, sudden as the bursting of a waterspout, the truth flashed over him; at the last, at the very last, when they had escaped so long that they had practically ceased to think of the danger, the agent of Lloyd's was upon them.
"Hello there, what d'ye want?" called out the man doing anchor-watch.