It turns
out it's a coaling station of the Pacific Mail," he
said simply.
"Well, and I know it ain't no such a thing," said Mac.
"I been quartermaster in that line myself."
"All right," returned Wicks. "There's the book. Read
what Hoyt says--read it aloud and let the others hear."
Hoyt's falsehood (as readers know) was explicit;
incredulity was impossible, and the news itself
delightful beyond hope. Each saw in his mind's eye the
boat draw in to a trim island with a wharf, coal-sheds,
gardens, the Stars and Stripes, and the white cottage
of the keeper; saw themselves idle a few weeks in
tolerable quarters, and then step on board the China
mail, romantic waifs, and yet with pocketsful of money,
calling for champagne, and waited on by troops of
stewards. Breakfast, that had begun so dully, ended
amid sober jubilation, and all hands turned immediately
to prepare the boat.
Now that all spars were gone, it was no easy job to get
her launched. Some of the necessary cargo was first
stowed on board: the specie, in particular, being
packed in a strong chest and secured with lashings to
the afterthwart in case of a capsize.
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