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Updated: May 12, 2025
We were at one time so near the ironbound coast that there seemed every probability that we should finish off by being dashed to pieces on the rocks. Happily, the wind moderated, and a fine breeze springing up, we ran on merrily into the Pacific.
With wool-sacks, sand-bags, hurdles, planks, and other materials brought with them, the patriots now rapidly entrenched themselves in the position so brilliantly gained; while, without deferring for an instant the great purpose which they had come to effect, the sappers and miners fastened upon the ironbound soil of the dyke, tearing it with pick, mattock, and shovel, digging, delving, and throwing up the earth around them, busy as human beavers, instinctively engaged in a most congenial task.
"It's a little chest. It's ironbound, too. My! how heavy. I can't lift it." "Tumble it down and let's see," commanded Ralph, holding the lantern. Ruth sat down suddenly and looked at the boys. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know that we've got any right to touch it. It's padlocked. Maybe it is old Mr. Tilton's treasure-box." "That would be great!" cried Tom.
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