"An' have him a-comin' back aboard, a-wantin' to know who had been at it, hey?" said Trunnell. "I didn't think ye ware that kind o' missy."
"Nonsense!" I said. "He isn't coming back. Even if he is, it won't hurt to lift it, will it?"
"No, I don't know as it will, only it might upset them charts," said Trunnell.
"Try it," I said. "See if it's gold. It'll clink when you shake it, sure."
The little giant stooped and gave a grunt of disdain. "I reckon there ain't nothin' that size I can't lift," said he, in a superior tone, which was not lost on the women. Trunnell seldom bragged, and we crowded around, looking for quick results.
"A little bit o' trunk a-breakin' the backs o' a pair o' fellows as has the impudence to say they are men an' question the discipline o' the ship!" he said, with a loud grunt of disgust. "Stan' clear an' let a man have a chanst. If it's gold, an' ye're right, it'll rattle an' jingle fast enough; an' I hopes then ye'll be satisfied."
He took a strong hold of the leather handle at the side and braced his little legs wide apart. It was evident he would put forth some power. Then he set the great muscles of his broad back slowly, like a dray horse testing the load before putting forth his strength. Slowly and surely the little mate's back raised. He grew red in the face, and we peered over the treasure, hoping it would rise and give forth the welcome jingle.
Suddenly there was a ripping sound. Trunnell straightened up quickly, staggered for an instant, and then pitched forward over the trunk, uttering a fierce oath.
Mrs. Sackett screamed. Jennie burst into a wild fit of laughter. Chips and Gunning stood staring with open mouths and eyes, while Trunnell picked himself up, with the trunk handle in his iron fist.
"Faith, an' ye are a good strong man," said the carpenter. "Ye'd make a fortune as a porter a-liftin' trunks at a hotel."