We drifted down close to her, keeping our eyes fixed on her for any sign that a look-out was kept. “I don’t think there is any one on the deck,” he whispered. She was lying between us and the twinkling lamps of the city, and as we drifted nearer, her outline showed up against the lights and the reflexion of them in the sky. All was as still as a vault; and not a single porthole gave out so much as the glimmer of a match. A sickening feeling of disappointment began to creep over me at the fear that there was no one on board. “Sheer down alongside, Jack,” I whispered. No one challenged us as we dropped under the lee of the hull. I fended the _Firefly_ off with my hands and then worked her round under the stern. Here was confirmation of my fear in the disconcerting discovery that the launch, which I had confidently expected to find either astern or alongside, was not there. “There’s no one on her, Ralph,” said Burroughs. “I shall get aboard and see. Drop astern and then circle round at a distance to the bow.” We drifted far enough for our little propeller to be out of earshot and then made a sweep round to the bow. “What do you think it means?” he whispered. “I’m afraid I’ve backed the wrong horse. But I can’t think of anywhere else for that launch to go. When I get aboard stand off up the bay so that you can keep a look-out for me. The reflection of the city light in the sky will be enough for you to see any signal I make to you.” “You can do better than that. Take the electric torch. You can show a light then even if you have to swim for it.” “That’s a happy thought,” I exclaimed, and tucked it inside my vest. “If there’s any trouble I shall be able to make racket enough for you to hear me, and you can come aboard after me.” We stopped the propeller then and drifted down till I could reach the yacht’s cable. I swarmed up this and, using the greatest caution, got a grip and hauled myself up until I could see along the deck. It was quite deserted, so I climbed on to the forecastle and crept along as stealthily as a cat stalking a bird and almost as noiselessly. I had reached almost amidships when I discovered that some one was on board after all. The glow from a lamp showed through the partly open companion of the saloon. Doubling my caution I lay at full length on the deck and approached the opening. Whoever he was he was able to afford very good cigars, for the scent of one reached me. I lay listening intently. I heard the crackle of papers as they were turned over; the rustle of some one moving in his chair, a sound of stertorous breathing; the clink of a bottle against a glass, and again the crackle of papers as the man, whoever he was, resumed his writing or reading. For many minutes there was no other sound. Then the man struck a match as he lit a fresh cigar, and pushed aside the papers with a breath of relief. Then silence for a while, broken at length by a gasp and a snore. “Wake up, you drunken young pig!”