In ten minutes we were aboard again, and I met Chips in the waist as I stopped to get a piece of tobacco.

“Well, what was it?” I asked.

“Faith, an’ I got caught,” said Chips, with a sickly grin.

“How was it?” I asked.  “Come, tell me, while Ford and Tom get the cushions out of the boat;” and I drew the carpenter into the door of the forward cabin where Trunnell couldn’t see us.

“’Twas a fine thing ye made me do, but no matter,” he began.  “Ye see, whin ye had started well on yer way to th’ fisher, I thinks now is th’ time av me life.  Trunnell ware sitting and smokin’ on the wheel-gratin’, an’ all ware as quiet as ye please.  I wint below whistling to set him off his guard, like; an’ whin I sees me way clear I takes me chance at the afther-cabin, an’ in I goes.  I stopped whistlin’ whin I makes th’ enthry, an’ I steered straight fer th’ chist forninst the captin’s room.  The door ware open, an’ I see the chist ware a little trunk av a thing, no bigger than a hand-bag, so to speak.  Up on top av it ware a pile av charts an’ things sech as th’ raskil sung out to Trunnell not to touch.  ’Twas a cute little thing to do; fer how I could get inter th’ outfit without a-movin’ them struck me.

“I finally grabs th’ side av th’ trunk an’ tries to lift it.  Ye may say I lie, but s’help me, I cud no more lift that little trunk than th’ ship herself.

“Gold?  Why, how cud it ‘a’ been anything but solid gold?  I cud lift that much lead easy.  I stopped a minit and took out me knife, me mind made up to thry th’ lock.  I give wan good pick at ut, an’ thin I hears a sort av grunt.  There ware Trunnell a-lookin’ right down at me from th’ top av th’ afther-companion.

“Sez he, ‘An’ what may ye be a-doin’ wid th’ old man’s trunk,’ sez he.

“’Sure ‘tis me own I thought it ware, by th’ weight av it,’ sez I.

“‘Is it so heavy, thin?’ sez he.

“‘Faith, ye thry an’ lift it,’ sez I.

“He come down th’ ladder an’ took a-hold, shutting th’ door to keep th’ steward from a-lookin’ in.  Thin he takes hold av th’ thing an’ lifts fer th’ good av his soul.  Nary a inch does it move.

“‘I wud have opened it, but I heard th’ captin’s order not to disturb th’ charts atop av it,’ sez I.

“‘Ye would, ye thafe,’ sez he.  ‘An’ if ye had, inter irons would ye go fer th’ raskil ye are.  I never thought ye ware so bad, Chips,’ sez he.

“‘Tis a victim av discipline I am, fer sure, thin,’ sez I.  ’Ye know I wud no more steal th’ matther av a trunk than fly.’

“‘An’ who give ye th’ order, ye disciplinarian?’ sez he.

“‘Me conscience,’ sez I.

“‘Ye better go forrads an’ tell yer conscience th’ fact that it’s a bad wan fer an honest man to travel wid,’ sez he.  ‘An’ tell him also to mind what I says about obeyin’ orders aboard this here ship.  If yer conscience iver wants to command a ship, he don’t want to forget that discipline is discipline, an’ whin it comes to thavery, discipline will get ye both in irons.  Slant away afore I loses my temper an’ sails inter ye,’ sez he.