In that horrible
gale we spoke of before dinner, the coal was exhausted,
and I, as the best-dressed man, was sent up to the
captain to ask him what we should do. I found him
himself at the wheel. He almost cursed me, and bade me
say nothing of coal, at a moment when he must keep
her head to the wind with her full power, or we were
lost. He bade me slide my hand into his pocket, and take
out the key of the after freight-room, open that, and use
the contents for fuel. I returned hastily to the engine-
room, and we did as we were bid. The room contained
nothing but old account books, which made a hot and
effective fire.
On the third day the captain came down himself into
the engine-room, where I had never seen him before,
called me aside, and told me that by mistake he had given
me the wrong key; asking me if I had used it. I pointed
to him the empty room; not a leaf was left. He turned
pale with fright. As I saw his emotion, he confided to
me the truth. The books were the evidences or accounts
of the British national debt; of what is familiarly known
as the Consolidated Fund, or the "Consols." They had
been secretly sent to New York for the examination of
James Fiske, who had been asked to advance a few millions
on this security to the English Exchequer, and now all
evidence of indebtedness was gone!
The captain was about to leap into the sea.
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