The water was here, too, though it had drained somewhat, owing to the depression amidships; but nothing to explain the mystery.
Mr.Fogo crept aft with better hopes of success, gained the poop, and peered down the companion.

The light was too dim to reveal anything.
Nothing daunted, he crawled down the ladder and into the captain's cabin.
The first thing to catch his eye was an empty packing-case, with a heap of shavings and cotton-wool beside it.

On the side of the case was printed in blue letters--"_ Wapshott and Sons.

Chicago.

Patent Compressed Tea.