"Better be careful," said the mid., warningly. "Don't blow the lock off. See if you can lay hold of a crowbar."
Hardy departed on his quest, and presently returned with a hack-saw.
"This'll do a mighty lot better'n a crowbar, sir," said he. "Would you mind steadying the padlock while I set to work?"
Five minutes sufficed to saw through the heavy brass framework, and Cardyke threw open the door. Within the room were piles of iron-clamped boxes, reaching almost to the ceiling. One or two had been wrenched open, but it took the united efforts of the midshipman and the burly coxswain to set one of the chests upon the floor. It was full of gold ingots.
"Lawks!" ejaculated Hardy, at a loss to say anything else, for the sight of untold wealth almost capsized his equilibrium.
"We've done the pirates very nicely," said Cardyke. "They'll be wild with fury to think that we've recaptured the booty."
"Strikes me this is mighty queer. We can't hand the stuff back to its rightful owners, sir; and the bloomin' pirates can't make use of it now they've got it on board."
"There's one consolation—it's one in the eye for the rascals," added the mid. "I'll go and report matters to Mr. Fielding."
"Yes, it's some satisfaction to know we've scored," observed the sub. when Cardyke made his report. "Sooner than let the rascals lay their hands on the stuff I'd have the whole lot pitched overboard. But that's a serious business, the shortage of water. I don't know what we can do."
"I have it," announced Cardyke. "There's plenty of ice floating about; we can get a lot of it on board, and melt it down."