Here and there in the tangled
heap were sections of canvas sails--rolled and unrolled, but all yellow
and worthless. They closed the hatch and returned to the cabin, where
they could converse.
"They stowed their spare canvas in the 'tween-deck on top of the
cargo," said Boston; "and the carboys--"
"And the carboys burst from the heat and ruined the sails," broke in
the doctor. "But another question is, what became of that acid?"
"If it's not in the 'tween-deck yet, it must be in the hold--leaked
through the hatches."
"I hope it hasn't reached the iron in the hull, Boston, my boy. It
takes a long time for cold acids to act on iron after the first
oxidation, but in fifty years mixed nitric and sulphuric will do lots
of work."
"No fear, Doc; it had done its work when you were in your cradle.
What'll we do for canvas? We must get this craft before the wind.
How'll the carpet do?" Boston lifted the edge, and tried the fabric in
his fingers. "It'll go," he said; "we'll double it. I'll hunt for a
palm-and-needle and some twine." These articles he found in the mate's
room. "The twine's no better than yarn," said he, "but we'll use four
parts.
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