It had been agreed that, while Wicks was to board the ship and do the civil, the rest were to remain in the whaleboat and see the treasure safe.  A tackle was passed down to them; to this they made fast the invaluable chest, and gave the word to heave.  But the unexpected weight brought the hand at the tackle to a stand; two others ran to tail on and help him, and the thing caught the eye of Trent.

“’Vast heaving!” he cried sharply; and then to Wicks:  “What’s that?  I don’t ever remember to have seen a chest weigh like that.”

“It’s money,” said Wicks.

“It’s what?” cried Trent.

“Specie,” said Wicks; “saved from the wreck.”

Trent looked at him sharply.  “Here, let go that chest again, Mr. Goddedaal,” he commanded, “shove the boat off, and stream her with a line astern.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” from Goddedaal.

“What the devil’s wrong?” asked Wicks.

“Nothing, I daresay,” returned Trent.  “But you’ll allow it’s a queer thing when a boat turns up in mid-ocean with half a ton of specie,—­and everybody armed,” he added, pointing to Wicks’s pocket.  “Your boat will lay comfortably astern, while you come below and make yourself satisfactory.”

“O, if that’s all!” said Wicks.  “My log and papers are as right as the mail; nothing fishy about us.”  And he hailed his friends in the boat, bidding them have patience, and turned to follow Captain Trent.

“This way, Captain Kirkup,” said the latter.  “And don’t blame a man for too much caution; no offence intended; and these China rivers shake a fellow’s nerve.  All I want is just to see you’re what you say you are; it’s only my duty, sir, and what you would do yourself in the circumstances.  I’ve not always been a ship-captain:  I was a banker once, and I tell you that’s the trade to learn caution in.  You have to keep your weather-eye lifting Saturday nights.”  And with a dry, business-like cordiality, he produced a bottle of gin.

The captains pledged each other; the papers were overhauled; the tale of Topelius and the trade was told in appreciative ears and cemented their acquaintance.  Trent’s suspicions, thus finally disposed of, were succeeded by a fit of profound thought, during which he sat lethargic and stern, looking at and drumming on the table.

“Anything more?” asked Wicks.

“What sort of a place is it inside?” inquired Trent, sudden as though Wicks had touched a spring.

“It’s a good enough lagoon—­a few horses’ heads, but nothing to mention,” answered Wicks.

“I’ve a good mind to go in,” said Trent.  “I was new rigged in China; it’s given very bad, and I’m getting frightened for my sticks.  We could set it up as good as new in a day.  For I daresay your lot would turn to and give us a hand?”

“You see if we don’t!” said Wicks.

“So be it, then,” concluded Trent.  “A stitch in time saves nine.”