“No, it ain’t!” replied the man, leaning over the side of the coble, and tilting the gunwale almost to the water’s edge; “Too early for them, Matt. If they comes, it won’t be till Sunday’s tide. They’re down at the bottom now, and ain’t yet rose. Easy! Lean t’other way! So there—look out!”
As he spoke he struggled with something in the water, and at last, with an effort which almost capsized the boat, pulled it in. Matt looked now, and saw that it was a small flat wooden trunk, covered with pieces of slimy weed. Floating near it were several pieces of splintered wood which seemed to have formed part of a boat. These, too, William secured, and threw down on the foot-board beneath him.
“It’s a box, that’s what it is,” cried Matt.
“It’s a box, surely,” said Jones. “And it’s locked, too. And look ye now. I misdoubt there’s nowt inside, or mayhap it would have sunk, Howsomever, we’ll see!”
After an unavailing effort to force it open with his hands, he drew forth a large clasp-knife, worked away at the lock, and tried to force open the lid, which soon yielded to his efforts, as the action of the salt water had already begun to rot the wood. On being thus opened, the box was found to contain only a couple of coarse linen shirts, an old newspaper, two or three biscuits, and half a bottle of some dark fluid.
After examining these articles one by one, William Jones threw them back into the box with gestures of disgust, retaining only the bottle, which he uncorked and applied to his lips.
“Rum!” he said, smacking his lips and nodding at Matt. Then re-corking the bottle carefully he returned it to the box, and standing up, reconnoitred the sea on every side. But nothing else rewarded his eager search; he threw himself down in the stem of the boat, and ordered Matt to pull back to shore.
As they went he closed one eye thoughtfully, and mused aloud: “Night afore last it blew half a gale from the south’ard. This here box came awash from the east coast of Ireland. Maybe it was a big ship as was lost; them planks was part of a wessel’s long boat. More’s coming if the wind don’t come up from the norrard. The moon’s full to-night and to-morrow. I’ll tell the old ’un, and keep a sharp, look-out off the Caldron Pint.”
Matt rowed on steadily till they came within a quarter of a mile of the shore, when William Jones stood up again and reconnoitred the prospect inland.
“Pull in, Matt!” he said, after a minute. “All’s square!”