It was covered with the refuse of sea-birds. The deck guns were white with guano. Looking aft to the incline of her poop-deck they saw the companion hatch of the cabin, and this suggested that in the cabin itself they might find something that would serve as food. Timothy led the way down to the main-deck. In a coil of rope on one of the closed hatchways he caught sight of two white eggs. He leapt to them, and took one of them in his hand, giving it to Gilbert; the other he gave to Philip.
"God grant that they be fresh," said he.
Philip tapped his egg on one of the stanchions, chipping off a little piece of the shell. With a muttered Spanish curse he dropped the egg upon the deck, and stamped his foot upon the shrivelled, half-formed little sea-gull that the shell had enclosed.
Gilbert bent down to break the other egg on a corner of the hatch covering. As he did so he caught sight of something that glittered on the deck—a small square of yellow metal about the size of his hand. He picked it up and examined it.
"Why, 'tis gold!" said he.
"Ay," agreed Timothy, "and there be other pieces the same as it. Look!" he added, pointing to the scuppers. And there Gilbert saw at least a dozen other little bars of gold.
Philip saw them also, and darted towards them, gathering them together with miserly avarice.
"Come," said Timothy, "let us go below and seek for food. I fear me there is little hope of our finding any, but it may be that we can come upon a few grains of corn or else a crust of old bread."
He led the way aft to a door under the quarter-deck, and pushed it open. A dry, mouldy smell met him as he entered into the darkness. He felt about with his hands, and stepped cautiously until he found himself at the head of a narrow staircase. Step by step he went down. The stairs creaked under him.