‘Butler, the brig’s been boarded,’ said Mr. Bates, ‘and found abandoned, and some joker scrawled out this piece of humour before leaving.’ ‘I believe every word of it,’ repeated Tom, running his eye over this huge ocean address to those concerned. ‘How long would it take you to draw those things and think and write this out? No man would come prepared with it. Where’d he get the facts? We’ll look for the papers.’ He tried to draw the nail, broke the sheet from it, glanced at the other side (the Portuguese coast) and rolled it up. The foremost berth on the port side had been the captain’s. Seemingly nothing had been touched. Some clothes hung against the bulkhead; there was bedding in the narrow fore and aft bunk. All the necessary appliances for the navigation of the vessel were here: Two good chronometers snugly stowed in hair in a locker, a sextant and a quadrant, mathematical instruments, such charts as the voyage might demand, and the needful navigating books. A little hinged table stood open in a corner; upon it was a plain writing-desk with the key in the lock, and inside a parcel of letters in a woman’s writing, some note-paper and a bag of sovereigns, which Tom counted and made twenty-two. ‘Where’s the log-book?’ said Mr. Bates. ‘Here’ll be her papers,’ said Tom, after opening a locker. He pulled out a tin box and read the papers with the quickness of a man used to such documents. ‘This is the brig _Old Stormy_,’ said he. ‘Two hundred and twelve tons--cargo consigned to Cape Town--a rich freight!’ he added, whistling low, ‘pianos, pictures, vases, books, furniture, clocks, ornaments, clothes, and linen.’ Then he read out by whom the goods had been shipped, and to whom they were consigned. The name of the master was John Wilson, of the mate William Nash, and W. M. might be the seaman down as William Metcalfe. The berth opposite had been the mate’s; here was found the vessel’s log-book, from the last entry in which we discovered that the _Old Stormy_ had been abandoned about a fortnight since, a few leagues north of the Equator, so that she had drifted in that time to the southward through several degrees of latitude. This might very well have happened, seeing the canvas she was under. Two berths on the port side were empty, though equipped for use. I mean there were bunks and the other berth furniture. On the starboard side the two cabins abaft the mate’s we found respectively fitted as a store-room and pantry. All the provisions for cabin use appeared to have been stowed in the store-room, and the little pantry was as well-stocked in crockery, glass, and the like as the _Childe Harold’s_ before the convicts broke it up. This survey was quickly made. Tom said: ‘There’s plenty to eat for four people and good rooms to sleep in. What’ll be the stock of fresh water? That’s next with us, Bates. Then pump her out and whip the quarter-boat aboard.’ ‘It’s a solemn and wonderful deliverance,’ exclaimed Mr. Bates.