‘They’ve got a notion there’s money in that there hulk,’ exclaimed Finn, ‘and they’ll stick to her till they satisfies themselves one way or the other.’
‘Small fear of them not being taken off when they’re ready to go,’ said the mate, staring hard at Lady Monson and then at Laura; ‘that island’s a novelty which’ll bring every ship that heaves her masthead within sight of it running down to have a look at. Volcanic, eh? And that shell-covered arrangement up there rose along with it?’
‘Ay,’ said Finn.
‘Well,’ said the little second mate, ‘why shouldn’t she have treasure, aboard? She has the look of one of them plate ships you read of.’
‘I’d take my chance with them two sailors,’ said the fellow who was pulling the bow oar.
‘So would I,’ said the man next to him.
The stroke gazed yearningly through the hair over his eyes.
The sea of the preceding night had cleared the beach of every vestige of the yacht; all the fragments which had littered the rocks were gone. As we drew out from the island it took in the brilliant sunshine the complexion of marble, and the wondrous old galleon lying on top sparkled delicately with many tints as our point of view was varied by the stroke of the oars. The resolution of the two men vexed and grieved me beyond all expression; but what was to be done? My spirit shrank at the mere thought of their determination when I reflected upon the damp, dark, ocean-smelling cabin, the luminous hold, the two skeletons, the vegetation and shells, whose novelty, wonder, glory seemed to carry the structure out of all human sympathy, as though it were the product of a form of existence whose creations were not to be met with under the stars. We drew rapidly to the barque. She was an exceedingly handsome model, painted green, rigged with a masterly eye to accurate adjustment down to the most trivial detail.
‘What’s her name, sir?’ asked Finn.
‘The “Star of Peace,”’ answered the second mate.