Brack looked round in every direction as he went down the steps and hauled in his boat. It was no unusual thing for a boat to go out at night to a man-o'-war, or to some craft lying in the bay, but he was not fond of such work and knew if any of his mates saw him it would attract notice. Looking up, he saw Hector leaning over, and beckoned him to come down. "Once we're out of the inner harbor there'll not be much danger," said Brack. "Chuck that waterproof over yer shoulders; it'll keep yer warm and it looks seaman-like. Now we're ready." "Hallo, Brack!" He looked up and saw Carl Hackler on the steps peering at the man in the boat. Brack had wonderful control. It was a matter of more than life or death to Hector Woodridge; if Hackler got him he would be sent back to his living tomb, for such it was to him. "Oh, it's you!" said Brack with as much contempt as he could master. "And pray what are you doing here? Want another trip in the bay? If you do, jump in and I'll take you. I've got the mate of the _London Belle_ here; he's a bit overseas and I'm taking him out. Ain't that right, Harry?" "That's the job, Brack, that's it," hiccoughed Hector, who guessed the danger was great. "I've half a mind to come," said Carl, not quite satisfied, but utterly deceived by Brack's cool manner. "You'll have ter make up the other half quick," said Brack. "I'll leave you to it. Mind your mate doesn't fall overboard," said Carl. "I'll see to that," said Brack. A hoot came across the bay, a peculiar sound. Brack knew it; it came from the _Sea-mew_. He sat down and pulled his best. Would he reach her in time? Carl Hackler watched the boat until it was out of sight. The hoot came again. "What's that steamer sounding?" he asked a sailor close to him. "The _Sea-mew_; she'll be leaving to-night, I reckon." Carl started. Was it possible? No, of course not. What a fool he was; and yet, Brack was rowing as though his life depended on it. "Better make sure," he muttered, and turning to the boatman said: "Will you row me out to the _London Belle_?" "Yes, sir, how much?" "Half a sovereign," said Carl. Another hoot came across the bay from the _Sea-mew_. CHAPTER VIII ON BOARD THE "SEA-MEW" "I wonder if the beggar'll follow us," gasped Brack, between his spurts; "seemed mor'n half inclined to it--cuss him for his meddling!" "Where are you going?" asked Hector. "To the _Sea-mew_." Hector started--his brother's yacht. He must not go there. What would be the consequences if he were taken on her, found concealed? Picton would be compromised, in grave danger, probably of imprisonment. "I cannot let you go there," said Hector; "it is impossible." "Just you sit still. You're a'goin' there whether you like it or not," said Brack doggedly. "I will not place my brother in a false position." "What'd you do if he were in your place and came to the yacht as you're doin'?" Hector made no answer; he knew he would take the risk.