Not a leaf stirred; and the boat, when we came up to
it, offered convincing proof of long desertion. She
was an eighteen-foot whaleboat of the ordinary type,
equipped with oars and thole-pins. Two or three
quarter-casks lay on the bilge amidships, one of which
must have been broached, and now stank horribly; and
these, upon examination, proved to bear the same New
Zealand brand as the beef on board the wreck.
"Well, here's the boat," said I; "here's one of your
difficulties cleared away."
"H'm," said he. There was a little water in the bilge,
and here he stooped and tasted it.
"Fresh," he said. "Only rain-water."
"You don't object to that?" I asked.
"No," said he.
"Well, then, what ails you?" I cried.
"In plain United States, Mr. Dodd," he returned, "a
whaleboat, five ash sweeps, and a barrel of stinking
pork."
"Or, in other words, the whole thing?" I commented.
"Well, it's this way," he condescended to explain.
"I've no use for a fourth boat at all; but a boat of
this model tops the business. I don't say the type's
not common in these waters; it's as common as dirt; the
traders carry them for surf-boats.
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