At least, that is what Dunberry did after the gale and within a couple of days following it, than which no longer was needed, it appeared, to secure any salvage worth the landing. For there is this characteristic of great tempests, that from their destructive rage they yield a poorer harvest of “whole grain,” so to speak, than do moderate ones. The latter, maybe, deposit some literal pickings in the shape of crates, barrels, seamen’s chests, etc., yet compact; the former for the most part mere _disjecta membra_. It followed, therefore, that when Harry and I next visited the beach--which, as it happened, he having been away, and I confined to the house with a beastly cold, we did not do until the afternoon of the third day succeeding that night of uproar--we found we had the whole place virtually to ourselves. Uncle Jenico, who, from his anxious concern for me, had also kept at home during the interval, came with us, full of suppressed eagerness to glean the torn fields of shingle for relics. I think I only realized the self-restraint which his affection must have imposed upon him in those two days, when I saw the almost childish joy with which he greeted the sight of the weedy litter strewn, as far as the eye could reach, along the shore. “Why, Richard!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands, while his spectacles seemed to twinkle again, “here’s a chance indeed! It’s an ill wind that blows nobody---- Poor souls, poor souls! I feel like robbing the grave to take such advantage of their misery.” His countenance fell a moment; but his mood was not proof against the stupendous prospect. “The sea’s a pretty big grave, sir,” said Harry. “You might as well have scruples about digging gold out of the earth, seeing we’re all buried there.” “That’s true,” said Uncle Jenico, with serious delight. “That’s quite true, my boy. I only hope I’ve not left it to too late.” This gave me a little qualm. “Shall I come with you, uncle?” I said. “No, Dicky,” he answered; “no, no, no. You and Harry amuse yourselves as you will. I wouldn’t deny myself for anything the gratification of the treat I’m going to bring you by-and-by. It’s selfish, no doubt; but--but I’d rather be alone.” And he hobbled away, calling out to us not to let our expectations run _too_ high, or he might be defrauded of his opportunity to surprise us. “He’s a real trump,” said Harry. “I hope you think so, Dick.” “Of course I do,” I answered, rather testily, and began to whistle. “That’s all right, then,” said he. “And now let’s explore.”