I knew this light came from the bull’s-eye lantern, and that if I opened the door an inch or so those inside could not detect it; but when I tried the key I found that the door was unlocked but hooked inside, so I took the key out again and put it down on the deck, and took another survey of the limited portion of the room visible to me.  I could hear Harris talking in a low tone, and Captain Riggs asking questions, and by putting my ear to the keyhole I heard enough to get the drift of their conversation, although in this position I could not see what they were doing.

“Tinned milk,” said Harris, and he laughed.

“Let the boy hold the light,” said the captain.  “Pry it open a bit more, Harris, and let me have a good, square look at it.  I don’t believe there’s more than one box, at that—­which wouldn’t be no great trouble for us.”

“Make a devil of a racket to git it broke open,” said Harris, using some sort of a tool on a box.  “Thar’s two chists here, to tell the truth about it.  One is heavier than t’other and bound with iron strips, and this outside one is cleated with tin.  I’ll rip the whole works open, cap’n, if ye say the word.”

“No, no, Mr. Harris!  Sally Ann, not that!  Just enough so I can see and have no doubt about it—­I don’t want no guesswork.”

“They made it fast right enough,” growled Harris.  “I never see no tinned milk nursed so particular as this, blow me if I did!  But when I started this side so’s I could get my thumb in, I was Jerry Smith—­here, cap’n—­quick while I hold this side out—­put your thumb in there and feel the aidge.”

“It feels like it.  Take the light from the boy and hold it down so I can get a look at it—­no, let him keep it, Mr. Harris—­you hold the board out so I can see it in good shape—­down, Rajah, down low, so.”

I tried to see what they were doing, but all I could make out was Captain Riggs as he bent low between me and the object on which the light was turned.  I put my ear back to the keyhole.

“Sally Ann!  Sally Ann!” I heard Captain Riggs exclaim, and then he whistled.  “Blast me if ye ain’t right, Mr. Harris!”

“I knew I was right,” growled Harris.  “Can’t fool me with that—­it felt like it and looked like it, and that man Trego fits into the game to a T. I thought he was a mighty shady customer from the first look I got at him, when he come alongside and bossed things.  When he got that knife throwed in him I thought I’d come down here and have a look around on my own hook, and thar ye be, cap’n.”

“But Sally Ann!  What are we going to do with it?  We can’t leave it here, can we?”

“Maybe it would be better, at that,” said Harris.  “But I look at it this way, cap’n—­somebody knows it’s here, that’s what.  Maybe the parson; maybe that Mr. Trenhum; maybe Petrak knowed about it; maybe Buckrow and Long Jim knows; but, anyhow, whoever had that knife hooked into Trego knowed, and ye can put that in yer pipe and smoke it.”