“I guess I’ve got hold of the dicky now!” exclaimed Nares, and turning round from my perquisitions, I found he had drawn forth a heavy iron box, secured to the bulkhead by chain and padlock.  On this he was now gazing, not with the triumph that instantly inflamed my own bosom, but with a somewhat foolish appearance of surprise.

“By George, we have it now!” I cried, and would have shaken hands with my companion; but he did not see, or would not accept, the salutation.

“Let’s see what’s in it first,” he remarked dryly.  And he adjusted the box upon its side, and with some blows of an axe burst the lock open.  I threw myself beside him, as he replaced the box on its bottom and removed the lid.  I cannot tell what I expected; a million’s worth of diamonds might perhaps have pleased me; my cheeks burned, my heart throbbed to bursting; and lo! there was disclosed but a trayful of papers, neatly taped, and a cheque-book of the customary pattern.  I made a snatch at the tray to see what was beneath; but the captain’s hand fell on mine, heavy and hard.

“Now, boss!” he cried, not unkindly, “is this to be run shipshape? or is it a Dutch grab-racket?”

And he proceeded to untie and run over the contents of the papers, with a serious face and what seemed an ostentation of delay.  Me and my impatience it would appear he had forgotten; for when he was quite done, he sat a while thinking, whistled a bar or two, refolded the papers, tied them up again; and then, and not before, deliberately raised the tray.

I saw a cigar-box, tied with a piece of fishing-line, and four fat canvas-bags.  Nares whipped out his knife, cut the line, and opened the box.  It was about half full of sovereigns.

“And the bags?” I whispered.

The captain ripped them open one by one, and a flood of mixed silver coin burst forth and rattled in the rusty bottom of the box.  Without a word, he set to work to count the gold.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s the ship’s money,” he returned, doggedly continuing his work.

“The ship’s money?” I repeated.  “That’s the money Trent tramped and traded with?  And there’s his cheque-book to draw upon his owners?  And he has left it?”

“I guess he has,” said Nares, austerely, jotting down a note of the gold; and I was abashed into silence till his task should be completed.

It came, I think, to three hundred and seventy-eight pounds sterling; some nineteen pounds of it in silver:  all of which we turned again into the chest.

“And what do you think of that?” I asked.