“None,” said the leader of the custom officials.
Captain Hardwick removed his cap and began to scan the top-hamper of the Orient. He saw that the forward crow’s-nest was unusually large and commodious. He called two of his sailors. “Boys,” he cried, “skip up the rigging and take a look in those crow’s-nests. Make sure there are no false bottoms in them.”
The crew of the Orient lost their grins, as the sailors from the cutter hustled up the rigging. “Nothing here,” called down the sailor who had mounted to the after crow’s-nest. The man on the forward mast did not answer so promptly. He was measuring with eye and arm the inner and outer dimensions of the big crow’s-nest. Suddenly his eye caught sight of a nail, bent like a hook, that projected above the flooring at one edge of the crow’s-nest. He crooked a finger under it and pulled. The whole floor came up. Beneath it, packed tightly together, were enough cans of opium to fill several suit-cases.
“The stuff is here, Captain,” called the sailor.
