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"The fact is," said Melick, "it's not a sailor's yarn at all. No sailor would ever express himself in that way. That's what struck me from the first. It has the ring of a confounded sensation-monger all through." The doctor elevated his eyebrows, but took no notice of this.
None of the party rose until very late, and then over the breakfast-table they discussed the manuscript once more, each from his own point of view, Melick still asserting a contemptuous scepticism Oxenden and the doctor giving reasons for their faith, and Featherstone listening without saying much on either side.
It was enclosed in wrappers made of some coarse kind of felt, bound tight with strong cords. The other was much smaller, and, was folded in the same material without being bound. This Melick seized and began to open. "Wait a minute," said Featherstone. "Let's make a bet on it. Five guineas that it's some sort of jewels!" "Done," said Oxenden.
Melick opened the package, and it was seen that Featherstone had lost. There were no jewels, but one or two sheets of something that looked like paper. It was not paper, however, but some vegetable product which was used for the same purpose. The surface was smooth, but the color was dingy, and the lines of the vegetable fibres were plainly discernible. These sheets were covered with writing.
"A given point? But how can we find any?" "Oh, easily enough; something or anything a bubble'll do, or we can pitch out a bit of wood." Upon this Featherstone descended from his perch, and came near to examine the proceedings, while the other two, eager to take advantage of the new excitement, soon joined him. By this time Melick had finished his paper boats.
"See through what?" said the doctor, hastily, pricking up his ears at this, and peering keenly at Melick through his spectacles. "Why, the manuscript, of course." "Well," said the doctor, "what is it that you see? What do you make out of it?" "Why, anyone can see," said Melick, "that it's a transparent hoax, that's all. You don't mean to say, I hope, that you really regard it in any other light?"
Besides, it's all very well to talk of imitating Defoe and Swift; but suppose he couldn't do it?" "Then he shouldn't have written the book." "In that case how could his father have heard about his adventures?" "His father!" exclaimed Melick. "Do you mean to say that you still accept all this as bona fide?"
"As for your definition, doctor," continued Melick, "I'll give you one worth a dozen of yours: "'Twas a mighty bird; those strong, short legs were never known to fail, And he felt a glory of pride while thinking of that little tail, And his beak was marked with vigor, curving like a wondrous hook; Thick and ugly was his body such a form as made one look!"
"On the contrary," said the doctor, "it is their peculiarity of eye that makes them dwell in caves." "You are mistaking the cause for the effect, doctor." "Not at all; it is you who are making that mistake." "It's the old debate," said Melick. "As the poet has it: "'Which was first, the egg or the hen? Tell me, I pray, ye learned men!"
I certainly should like to find some more accurate statements about the science, philosophy, and religion of the Kosekin; yet, after all, such things could not be expected." "Why not?" said Melick; "it was easy enough for him." "How?" asked Oxenden.
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