Captain Ezekiel and his mate, making all ready for the homeward voyage, never noticed the slight figure that hovered about the wharf, slipping behind a corner or a barrel when they turned their faces that way, venturing nearer when they set them toward the sea. When they hoisted the sail, they never saw a shadow that flitted past them, a slender shape that passed noiseless as a bird, and slipped down the narrow stairs of the little cabin, and was gone. There were no passengers that day, or none that the captain knew of. He sailed out of the harbour on an easy wind, and for some hours the schooner made good headway, running lightly in a smooth sea; but at twilight the breeze dropped away, and soon the vessel lay rolling on a sea of purple glass, shot with golden lights. “Ain’t goin’ to have a quick chance this time, Elmer!” said the captain; and Elmer, aloft, at work on the gaff topsail, grunted, with his knife between his teeth, and agreed with the captain. The purple faded into gray, softened into black velvet, with stars trailing their slender lines of gold across. The sea breathed deep and gently, and the schooner rolled slowly on its broad bosom, making little progress forward. The captain and Elmer brought out their store of ship biscuit and corned beef, and made coffee in the little forecastle, and, while they were busy over these matters, the same light shape came softly up the stairs, and, passing forward, hid itself among the rigging and piles of rope. Once some small object was displaced, and Captain Ezekiel raised his head at the sound. “Did you hear anythin’ movin’ forrard there, Elmer?” “Cat!” said Elmer, raising a mug of coffee to his lips. “So ’tis!” assented the captain. “Caught a rat, likely, and got her supper. Well now, ain’t this awful moderate? I don’t call this no kind of a chance. You better go to bed, Elmer, when you’ve got them dishes done up.”