The wind, which had been favourable at the time of heaving up the anchor, changed, and blew directly in their teeth, before they were well out of sight of the port of Overton.  On the third day they were stretching off the land, to meet the first of the tide, under a light breeze and smooth water, when Newton perceived various objects floating in the offing.  A small thing is a good prize to a coaster; even an empty beaker is not to be despised; and Newton kept away a point or two, that he might close and discover what the objects were.  He soon distinguished one or two casks, swimming deeply, broken spars, and a variety of other articles.  When the sloop was in the midst of them, Newton hove-to, tossed out the little skiff, and, in the course of an hour, unknown to his captain, who was in bed sleeping off the effect of his last potations, brought alongside, and contrived to parbuckle in, the casks, and as many others of the floating articles as he could conveniently stow upon her decks.  The boat was again hoisted in, by the united exertions of himself and his crew, consisting of one man and one boy; and the sloop, wearing round, reached in for the land.

It was evident to Newton that some large vessel had lately been wrecked, for the spars were fresh in the fracture, and clean—­not like those long in the water, covered with sea-weed, and encircled by a shoal of fish, who finding sustenance from the animalculae collected, follow the floating pieces of wood up and down, as their adopted parent, wherever they may be swept by the inconstant winds and tides.

Newton examined the heels of the spars, but they were not marked with the name of the vessel to which they had belonged.  The two casks had only initials branded upon their heads; but nothing could be found which would designate the owners of the property.  A large trunk riveted his attention; but he would not open it until the master of the vessel came upon deck.  Having ascertained by spiling that the contents of the casks were real Jamaica, he went down into the cabin to announce what he knew would be most grateful intelligence.

It was some time before Newton could rouse his stupefied senior.

“Spars—­wrecked!”

“What spars?  D—­n the wreck!” growled old Thompson (for such was his name), as he turned his back in no very ceremonious manner, and recommenced his snore.

“There’s a trunk besides, sir—­a large trunk; but I did not open it, as you were not on deck.  A large trunk, and rather heavy.”

“Trunk!—­well, what then?  Trunk!—­oh, d—­n the trunk!—­let me go to sleep,” muttered the master.

“There’s two large casks, too, sir; I’ve spiled them, and they prove to be puncheons of rum,” bawled Newton, who pertinaciously continued.

“Eh; what?—­casks! what casks?”

“Two puncheons of rum.”

“Rum!—­did you say rum?” cried old Thompson, lifting his head off the pillow, and staring stupidly at Newton; “where?”