“Good night,” I said, as he left the cabin, adding, under my breath, “Good riddance, too. You won't find quite so much when you come to examine this bag by daylight.” After he had gone--but not at once, as I wished not to make him suspicious,--I locked my cabin-door. Then I hung my tarred sea-coat on the door-hook, so that the flap entirely covered the keyhole. There were bolts on the door, but the upper one alone could be pushed home. With this in its place felt secure from spies. Yet not too secure. I was not certain that the bulkheads were without crannies from which I could be watched. The crack by the door-hinge might, for all I knew, give a very good view of the inside of the cabin. Thinking that I might still be under observation I decided to put off what I had to do until the very early morning, so I undressed myself for bed. I took care to put out the light before turning in, so that I might not be seen lashing the satchel round my neck with a length of spunyarn. I slept with my head upon it. CHAPTER XII. BRAVE CAPTAIN BARLOW Very early the next morning, at about half-past four, a little before sunrise, I woke up with a start, wondering where I was. Looking through my little scuttle port, I could see the flashing of bright waves, which sometimes dowsed my window with a shower of drops. The ship was apparently making about three knots an hour, under all her sails. Directly I woke, I turned out of my bunk to do what I had to do. After dressing, I took my sail-making tools from my housewife. I had resolved to cut the letters from their hiding-place so that I might make them up into tiny rolls, small enough to hide in my pistol cartridges. Very carefully I cut the threads which bound the leather flaps of the satchel together. I worked standing up, with the satchel in my bunk. I could hardly have been seen from any point. In a few moments the letters were in my hands. They were small sheets of paper, each about four inches square. They were nine in number, all different. They were covered with a neat cipher very different from the not very neat, not quite formed hand of the Duke himself. What the cipher was, I did not know. It was one of the many figure ciphers then in use. I learned long afterwards that the figures which frequently occurred in them stood for King James II. Such as they were, those cipher letters made a good deal of difference to many thousands of people then living contentedly at home.