mes, and
there was no one on board but the cook, who slumbered heavily in the
forecastle, and did not hear Augustus when he conveyed the bags to the
cabin.

Mr. Ebenier lighted a lamp, closed the cabin doors, and drew the silken
curtains over the ports in the upper part of the trunk, so that no one
could see what he was doing. Though it was not lawful for the steward
to use the wash-bowl in Mr. Watson's stateroom, he considered that the
present emergency would justify him in doing so. He performed his
ablutions with the utmost care, paying particular attention to his
wounded head. He then changed his clothing throughout, and devoted half
an hour to cleansing his plaid pants, which had been somewhat soiled by
contact with the burning seaweed. He even polished his boots before he
put them away.

So far as cleanliness was concerned, the steward was a gentleman, which
no unclean person can be. Having completed his toilet, and removed all
signs of the operation from the state-room, he sat down on a locker in
the cabin. He was thinking of the extraordinary incidents of the night.
He was fully satisfied that he had found Mr. Fairfield's treasure, and
that the opportunity entirely to free his young captain from suspicion
was within his grasp. It was a pleasant thought; but, after all, who
was Captain Fairfield? Only a young fellow behind whose chair at dinner
he was privileged to stand. He had seen him for the first time but a
few days before, and he did not feel under any peculiar obligations to
him.

Mr. Ebenier took the three bags of gold from the locker, and laid them
on the cabin table. It was midnight by the clock which hung in the
cabin--the dead hour of night, when all were sleeping. The fire on
shore had burned out, and all was still save the rolling sea. The
steward went to the door, opened it, passed up to the deck; there was
no one in sight, and hardly a light to be seen on the land. Returning
to the cabin, he poured out the contents of one of the bags on the
table, and proceeded to count the gold. It was a long job, and there
was more money than the steward had ever before seen together. On a
piece of paper he noted each hundred dollars with a tally-mark. His
last pile contained but fifty dollars. Counting up his marks, he made
thirty-eight of them; and the whole sum, according to his reckoning,
was thirty-eight hundred and fifty dollars.

The old man had lost four thousand dollars, and the steward, concluding