With the lantern held before me, its faint light barely piercing the intense darkness, I stood on the first step leading down into the cabin, and slid the door back into place behind me.  I had no sense of fear, yet felt a nervous tension to which I was scarcely accustomed.  For the instant I hesitated to descend into the gloom of that interior.  The constant nerve strain under which I had labored for days and nights, made me shrink from groping blindly forward, searching for the unknown.  The very darkness seemed haunted, and I could not drive from my memory the figure of that dead Captain, whose life had ended there.  It even seemed to me I could smell foulness in the air; that I was breathing in cholera.  Yet I drove this terror from me with a laugh, remembering the open ports through which the fresh wind was blowing; and cursing myself for a fool, began the descent, guided by the flickering rays of light.

I was conscious of a quickening pulse, as I peered about me in the gloom, every article of furniture assuming grotesque form.  The rustling of a bit of cloth over one of the open ports caused me to face about suddenly, while every creak of the vessel seemed the echo of a human voice.  A blanket in the form of a roll lay on the divan where I had found Captain Paradilla, and for a moment, as I stared at it, dimly visible in a ray of light, I imagined this was his motionless figure.  Indeed, I was so strung up, it required all my reserve of courage to persevere, and traverse the black deck.  My mind was fixed on a great chest in the Captain’s stateroom, which, finding locked, I had not disturbed on my former visit.  But first I explored the steward’s pantry, in search of knife or hatchet.  I found the latter, and, with it tucked into my belt, felt my way aft.  It may have required five minutes to pry open the chest, and the reward was scarcely worth the effort.  The upper tray contained nothing but clothing, and beneath this were books, and nautical instruments, with a bag of specie tucked into one corner, together with a small packet of letters.  I opened the sack, finding therein a strange collection of coins, mostly Spanish, estimating the total roughly at possibly five hundred English pounds.  Either this was Paradilla’s private purse, or money kept on hand to meet the expenses of the voyage.  I searched the room thoroughly, discovering nothing, finally concluding that if there was treasure on board, it must be concealed elsewhere.  I did find, however, that which strengthened my suspicion, for, in rummaging hastily through a drawer of the rude desk, I came upon a bill of sale for a thousand slaves, dated two weeks before, but unsigned, although the parties mentioned within the document were Paradilla and a merchant of Habana, named Carlos Martinos.  This would evidence the sale for cash of the late cargo of the Santa Marie—­a goodly sum—­but, whether the amount had been left ashore remained undecided.  Only a careful search of the vessel could determine this.