She scaled the ladder with a nimbleness that no old salt could have bettered, and the straining of the ropes in her hands told her that the others were trailing her as actively as they could. Looking before she leapt, she saw that the only men visible were intent upon steering an instalment of their precious cargo down into the hold aft, and in a trice she had flashed over the rail and was standing in the shadow of the deckhouse. In a moment Algy’s head topped the rail, and she beckoned him to hurry. Somehow he clambered over and got across the deck to join her, though he was dazed and swaying with cold and fatigue. Orace came hard on his heels. “How are we all?” asked Pat. Orace was trying to rub some of the wet off his arms and legs. “Orl right, miss—me ole woon’s painin’ a bit, but nuffin ta speak uv.” “Algy?” “F-f-frightfully sorry to b-be such a n-n-nuisance, old th-thing!” Algy’s teeth were chattering like castanets. “But I’ll b-b-be all right in a b-bally jiffy. I wish we could f-f-find the Tiger’s whisky!” The girl turned to Orace. “Will you take charge for a minute?” she said. “I don’t know enough about ships. Take us some place where we’ll be fairly safe from being spotted.” “Um,” said Orace, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “’Tain’t sa thunderin’ easy, onner tub this size. . . . I’ll goan seef they’ve gotta fo’c’sle-’atch, f’ya don mine settin’ among the ’awsers.” She nodded. “Carry on—and be quick.” She waited, supporting Algy with one arm. She kept a sharp look-out, and her disengaged hand held Bloem’s automatic, for they could not fail to be seen if anyone passed along that side of the deck. In which case the adventure was likely to terminate without further parley. . . . But luck was with them, and no one came, though they could hear the low voices of the men working aft, the thrum and groan of ropes and blocks and derricks, and the hum and clatter of the small winch. In a very brief space of time she saw Orace slinking back in the shadows. “What luck?” she demanded softly. “Didden think they’d ’av wun,” he replied—“but they yav! This wy——” He led them swiftly to the bows, keeping well down in the lee of the rail. In a short distance they were able to crouch under the bulwarks at the fo’c’sle head. Orace turned back the tarpaulin and raised the hatch. He shone his torch down to show them the tiny compartment almost filled with coils of hawser. “’Tain’t much,” said Orace apologetically, “but it’s syfe fra bit.” They got Algy down, and Patricia followed. Orace squeezed in last, and pulled the tarpaulin over again as he lowered the hatch, so that at a casual glance it would not appear to have been tampered with. “Cosy enough ’ere,” said Orace, switching on his lamp for a moment. “Ain’t much air, though, an’ if ennyone spots the ’atchis undid an’ battens it dahn we shall sufficate in an owrer two,” he added cheerfully. “We mighter done wuss, on the ’ole. But wot’s nex’ on the mean-you, Miss Patricia?”