Then he
returned to the 'tween-deck. After a while, Boston, rummaging the
lazarette, heard him calling through the bulkhead, and joined him.
"Look here, Boston," said the doctor; "I've cleared away the muck over
this hatch. It's 'corked,' as you sailormen call it. Help me get it
up."
They dug the compacted oakum from the seams with their knives, and by
iron rings in each corner, now eaten with rust to almost the thinness
of wire, they lifted the hatch. Below was a filthy-looking layer of
whitish substance, protruding from which were charred, half-burned
staves. First they repeated the experiment with the smouldering rag,
and finding that it burned, as before, they descended. The whitish
substance was hard enough to bear their weight, and they looked around.
Overhead, hung to the under side of the deck and extending the length
of the hold, were wooden tanks, charred, and in some places burned
through.
"She must have been built for a passenger or troop ship," said Boston.
"Those tanks would water a regiment."
"Boston," answered the doctor, irrelevantly, "will you climb up and
bring down an oar from the boat? Carry it down--don't throw it, my
boy.
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