"You are wrong," replied Andy. "I know; it's what the Americans term a runabout."
"A what?" asked Ellerton.
"A runabout—otherwise a motor-car."
"Fancy a motor-car on the Nameless Island!" exclaimed Terence, and the lads burst into a fit of hearty laughter at the incongruous idea.
"We'll have it ashore in time," observed Andy. "It will come in useful."
"How?"
"Never mind how. I have an idea, and, all being well, I'll fix it up to a good purpose."
"Suppose we try and find the bill of lading and the charter-party; they will give us some idea of the nature of the cargo."
A search revealed the required documents, but, being in Spanish, the apprentice could make no meaning to the text.
"Snakes!" ejaculated Andy. "There's enough to set us up as universal providers! Woollen and cotton goods, boots and leggings, hardware of American manufacture, nine cases of rifles—for some blooming insurgents more than likely—30,000 rounds of ammunition, and—hullo, this looks dangerous!—two tons of dynamite; building and railroad materials, agricultural implements, and one petrol-driven runabout, consigned to Monsieur Georges Lacroix, Grand Bassin, Tahiti. Well, I'm afraid Monsieur Georges Lacroix will have to wait for his motor-car!"