I gazed upon them dully, being in no mood for fresh
discoveries.
"Look at them, Mr. Dodd," cried the captain sharply.
"Can't you look at them?" And he ran a dirty thumb
along the title. "'SYDNEY MORNING HERALD, November
26th,' can't you make that out?" he cried, with rising
energy. "And don't you know, sir, that not thirteen
days after this paper appeared in New South Pole, this
ship we're standing in heaved her blessed anchors out
of China? How did the SYDNEY MORNING HERALD get to
Hong Kong in thirteen days? Trent made no land, he
spoke no ship, till he got here. Then he either got it
here or in Hong Kong. I give you your choice, my son!"
he cried, and fell back among the clothes like a man
weary of life.
"Where did you find them?" I asked. "In that black
bag?"
"Guess so," he said. "You needn't fool with it.
There's nothing else but a lead-pencil and a kind of
worked-out knife."
I looked in the bag, however, and was well rewarded.
"Every man to his trade, captain," said I. "You're a
sailor, and you've given me plenty of points; but I am
an artist, and allow me to inform you this is quite as
strange as all the rest.
Pages:
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366