ng keenly about with
the same motive as Seth; and he was quicker too than the shrewd seaman
in this instance, for he noticed forward, under the legs of one of the
corpses, a loose piece of wood, on which he pounced.

Pulling it out as quick as thought, he turned it over, and the secret of
the derelict hull was disclosed; for there, printed in letters of gold,
showing that the piece of wood was probably part of the stern of one of
the vessel's boats, as its shape also suggested, was the name
"_Dragon_--." Something was apparently wanting, for the wood was broken
off just at the end where the name was painted.

"_Dragon_?" said Seth. "I remember a ship called the _Dragon King_,
that used to sail regularly to the East Indies. I saw her last time I
was in Liverpool!"

"Waal," said the skipper, "we can only report what we've seen when we
get home; for we can't get down below to examine her papers or anything,
and must leave the old hulk to float till she sinks. I wish I had a
pound of dynamite on board, and I'd blow her up, I guess; as, tossing
about at sea like that, some vessel might run agin her in the night and
git stove in. Let's leave her, Hiram; we can do no good stopping any
longer."

"Let us first give those chaps there the benefit of a sailor's grave,"
said the mate, pointing to the corpses; and although the men, from some
superstitious feeling common enough among seamen, did not like to touch
them, the skipper and mate had no such scruples, and heaved the remains
of those who might have been murderers or the victims of some atrocious
crime overboard, with as much solemnity as they could. After which they
all returned to the _Susan Jane_, which pursued her way to her home
port.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER FIVE.

A MINING PROJECT.

After passing the derelict ship, the _Susan Jane_ met with nothing more
of an eventful character in her voyage; and after making a very fair run
across the Atlantic, thereby gladdening the heart of Captain Blowser,
sighted Nantucket lights, rounding Cape Cod the next day, and dropped
her anchor, finally, in Boston harbour, opposite the mouth of the River
Charles; about which Longfellow has written some pretty lines,
beginning--

"River! That in silence windest
Through the meadows bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!"

Before the American coast was reached, however, an arrangement was come
to.

When taking his grog one ev