They had
      separate apartments—no doubt in contemplation of a more permanent
      divorce; and here, after all I thought was the mystery of the
      extra state-room. There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. During the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after
      the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra state-room, I was
      attracted by certain singular cautious, subdued noises in that of
      her husband. After listening to them for some time, with
      thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in
      translating their import. They were sounds occasioned by the
      artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and
      mallet—the latter being apparently muffled, or deadened, by some
      soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped. In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment
      when he fairly disengaged the lid—also, that I could determine
      when he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the
      lower berth in his room; this latter point I knew, for example,
      by certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the
      wooden edges of the berth, as he endeavored to lay it down very
      gently—there being no room for it on the floor. After this there
      was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either
      occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a
      low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be
      nearly inaudible—if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were
      not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to
      resemble sobbing or sighing—but, of course, it could not have
      been either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr.
      Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein
      to one of his hobbies—indulging in one of his fits of artistic
      enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his
      eyes on the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this,
      however, to make him sob. I repeat, therefore, that it must have
      been simply a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain
      Hardy’s green tea. Just before dawn, on each of the two nights of
      which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon
      the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places by
      means of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his
      state-room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from
      hers. We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras,
      when there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We
      were, in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had
      been holding out threats for some time. Every thing was made
      snug, alow and aloft; and as the wind steadily freshened, we lay
      to, at length, under spanker and foretopsail, both double-reefed. In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours—the ship
      proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and
      shipping no water of any consequence. At the end of this period,
      however, the gale had freshened into a hurricane, and our
      after-sail split into ribbons, bringing us so much in the trough
      of the water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one
      immediately after the other. By this accident we lost three men
      overboard with the caboose, and nearly the whole of the larboard
      bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the
      foretopsail went into shreds, when we got up a storm stay-sail
      and with this did pretty well for some hours, the ship heading
      the sea much more steadily than before. The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its
      abating. The rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly
      strained; and on the third day of the blow, about five in the
      afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by
      the board. For an hour or more, we tried in vain to get rid of
      it, on account of the prodigious rolling of the ship; and, before
      we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four feet
      of water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps
      choked and nearly useless. All was now confusion and despair—but an effort was made to
      lighten the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as
      could be reached, and by cutting away the two masts that
      remained. This we at last accomplished—but we were still unable
      to do any thing at the pumps; and, in the meantime, the leak
      gained on us very fast. At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and as
      the sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of
      saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P. M., the clouds broke
      away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon—a piece
      of good fortune which served wonderfully to cheer our drooping
      spirits. After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the
      longboat over the side without material accident, and into this
      we crowded the whole of the crew and most of the passengers. This
      party made off immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering,
      finally arrived, in safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day
      after the wreck. Fourteen passengers, with the captain, remained on board,
      resolving to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered it without difficulty, although it was only by a
      miracle that we prevented it from swamping as it touched the
      water. It contained, when afloat, the captain and his wife, Mr.
      Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four children, and
      myself, with a negro valet. We had no room, of course, for any thing except a few positively
      necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our
      backs. No one had thought of even attempting to save any thing
      more. What must have been the astonishment of all, then, when
      having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up
      in the stern-sheets, and coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that
      the boat should be put back for the purpose of taking in his
      oblong box! “Sit down, Mr. Wyatt,” replied the captain, somewhat sternly,
      “you will capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwhale
      is almost in the water now.”

      “The box!” vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing—“the box, I say! Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight
      will be but a trifle—it is nothing—mere nothing.