"Well, that's safe," said Norris, striking out for the shore. "We'll get that out with tackle."
Day broke while we examined that chest upon the beach. It was of rough lumber, roughly, but strongly made, having rope handles, and well padlocked. In the hut we found food, cooking utensils, an empty jug emitting an odor of rum, an ax, and a pair of shovels.
"That fat, black fellow who lived here must have gone off with the others," observed Robert.
Norris led the way into the thicket. In the spot we'd found in the night, a tight box of great size was sunk into the soil. Its cover lay on one side. On this cover stood an open chest, a quarter filled with the gold-laden bamboo cylinders. Down in the great box were three more of the chests; and these we found to be empty. All were fitted alike, with rope handles, staples and hasps.
"Well, anyway," said Norris, "we'll make good use of these boxes. There's all that stuff up in the cave." He ran on, with enthusiasm, on the things we would do.
"All right, all right," interrupted the usually taciturn Robert at last, "but when's breakfast?" And his hand went in where his breakfast should be.
"That's so," admitted Norris. "We've forgotten breakfast."
The odor in the hut was too much for our stomachs, so we eschewed the place for all that it had a stove, and made our meal down by our boat.
The morning dragged tediously. It was less than two hours of noon before the day breeze sprung up, so that we could hope for the coming of the Pearl. We crouched in the sand on the northeast shore of the isle, watching anxiously. And at last the sails of the schooner appeared, coming from behind the point near the inner terminus of the channel. We rose to our feet and shouted with joy.
"Hold on!" I cried, when I had taken a second look. "That's not the Pearl, that's the Orion!"