After examining these articles one by one, William Jones threw them back into the box with gestures of disgust, retaining only the bottle, which he uncorked and applied to his lips. “Rum!” he said, smacking his lips and nodding at Matt. Then re-corking the bottle carefully he returned it to the box, and standing up, reconnoitred the sea on every side. But nothing else rewarded his eager search; he threw himself down in the stem of the boat, and ordered Matt to pull back to shore. As they went he closed one eye thoughtfully, and mused aloud: “Night afore last it blew half a gale from the south’ard. This here box came awash from the east coast of Ireland. Maybe it was a big ship as was lost; them planks was part of a wessel’s long boat. More’s coming if the wind don’t come up from the norrard. The moon’s full to-night and to-morrow. I’ll tell the old ’un, and keep a sharp, look-out off the Caldron Pint.” Matt rowed on steadily till they came within a quarter of a mile of the shore, when William Jones stood up again and reconnoitred the prospect inland. “Pull in, Matt!” he said, after a minute. “All’s square!” Soon afterwards the boat reached the rocks.. William Jones sprang out, and running up to the platform above, took another survey. This being satisfactory, he ran down again and lifted the box out of the boat, carrying it with ease under one arm. “Make the boat fast,” he said in a husky whisper, “and bring them bits o’ wood along with you for the fire. I’ll cut on to the cottage with this here. It ain’t much, but it’s summat; so I’ll carry it clean out o’ sight before them precious coastguards come smelling about.” With these words he clambered up the rocks with his burthen, leaving Matt to follow leisurely in his wake. CHAPTER V.--CONCLUDES WITH A KISS. Not far from the spot where William Jones had landed, and removed some little distance from the deserted village with its desolate main street and roofless habitations, there stood a low one-storied cottage, quite as black and forbidding-looking as any of the abandoned dwellings in its vicinity. It was built of stone, and roofed with slate, but the doorway was composed of old ship’s timber, and the one small window it contained had originally formed the window of a ship’s cabin. Over the door was placed, like a sign, the wooden figure-head of a young woman, naked to the waist, holding a mirror in her hand, and regarding herself with remarkable complacency, despite the fact that accident had deprived her of a nose and one eye, and that the beautiful red complexion and jet black hair she had once possessed had been entirely washed away by the action of the elements, leaving her all over of a leprous pallor. The rest of the building, as I have suggested, was of sinister blackness, though here and there it was sprinkled with wet sea sand. Sand, too, lay on every side, covered a small patch, originally meant for a garden, and drifted thickly up to the very door.