The huge brute was soon ripped up in a very unceremonious fashion. The hook had fixed right in the stomach, which was found to be absolutely empty, and the disappointed sailors were just going to throw the remains overboard, when the boatswain’s attention was attracted by some large object sticking fast in one of the viscera.
“That!” replied one of the sailors, “why, it’s a piece of rock the beast swallowed by way of ballast.”
“It’s just a bottle, neither more nor less, that the fellow has got in his inside, and couldn’t digest,” said another of the crew.
“Hold your tongues, all of you!” said Tom Austin, the mate of the DUNCAN. “Don’t you see the animal has been such an inveterate tippler that he has not only drunk the wine, but swallowed the bottle?”
“What!” said Lord Glenarvan. “Do you mean to say it is a bottle that the shark has got in his stomach.”
“Ay, it is a bottle, most certainly,” replied the boatswain, “but not just from the cellar.”
“Well, Tom, be careful how you take it out,” said Lord Glenarvan, “for bottles found in the sea often contain precious documents.”
“Do you think this does?” said Major McNabbs, incredulously.
“Oh! I’m not saying it doesn’t. There may perhaps be some secret in it,” returned the Major.
“That’s just what we’re to see,” said his cousin. “Well, Tom.”
“Here it is,” said the mate, holding up a shapeless lump he had managed to pull out, though with some difficulty.
“Get the filthy thing washed then, and bring it to the cabin.”
Tom obeyed, and in a few minutes brought in the bottle and laid it on the table, at which Lord Glenarvan and the Major were sitting ready with the captain, and, of course Lady Helena, for women, they say, are always a little curious. Everything is an event at sea. For a moment they all sat silent, gazing at this frail relic, wondering if it told the tale of sad disaster, or brought some trifling message from a frolic-loving sailor, who had flung it into the sea to amuse himself when he had nothing better to do.
However, the only way to know was to examine the bottle, and Glenarvan set to work without further delay, so carefully and minutely, that he might have been taken for a coroner making an inquest.
He commenced by a close inspection of the outside. The neck was long and slender, and round the thick rim there was still an end of wire hanging, though eaten away with rust. The sides were very thick, and strong enough to bear great pressure. It was evidently of Champagne origin, and the Major said immediately, “That’s one of our Clicquot’s bottles.”