"I shall see that the men sleep soundly," Mr. Wicker murmured. "You do the rest." "I shall, sir!" Chris agreed, and then the moon showed an edge for a moment in the clouds. "Look sir--the _Mirabelle_!" Toward sleeping Georgetown, for it was nearly midnight now, a whiteness showed itself, close against the distant wharfs. The _Mirabelle_ was edging out, and Chris knew that Ned, Bowie, Abner Cloud, and others were pulling her by the ship's boats into the main flow of the river. Once turned, she would float noiselessly down the Potomac past the _Venture_, and once he was aboard, would hoist her sails and set her course to sea. "Then quick!" bade Mr. Wicker. "We took too long! It seems we are a trifle late!" [Illustration] They stepped into the boat, each taking an oar, and with only a few strong pulls came alongside the silent _Venture_. They moored their boat to the anchor rope. Mr. Wicker touched Chris by way of wishing him luck, and disappeared. For half a second more Chris waited. No sound came from the ship but a light showed in the Captain's cabin. In a twinkling, a monkey with a pouch about its neck ran up the anchor rope and pausing on the gunwale, sniffed at the pungent flower smell that it now knew meant sleep for all the sailors. Then it bounded toward the light. A window of the cabin on the lee side had been left open. Clinging to a piece of rigging before it sprang to the sill, the monkey's eyes caught what seemed to be a shadow darker than that of the mist or of the night, moving away from the sailor left at night watch. The man now lay slumped in sleep, and the same heady scent of spices and flowers that had overcome Chris when he had first entered Mr. Wicker's shop blew away on the gusty fall wind. The ship tugged and strained at her anchor, wind and turning tide making taut the line that held her close to shore. The _Venture_, her rigging and masts scarcely visible, so sombre was the night, lay ominously silent, excepting for a murmur of voices from the cabin. Abruptly aware of the passing of time and the approaching white cloud on the water that was the _Mirabelle_, the monkey sprang to the side of the open window and peered inside. [Illustration] A smoking lamp hung low over a center table, dropping a dusky round glow on the larger circle beneath it. Claggett Chew was blearily studying a paper spread out before him, leaning his ugly bare skull on one hand. His eyes were blood-shot, and an empty wine bottle and glass holding only wine dregs showed he had been drinking and was now half asleep. Osterbridge Hawsey, in a heavy silk robe and embroidered slippers, lounged sideways in a chair with his legs hanging over the arm. His hand trailed an empty glass on the floor, and a silly drunken smile played over his face. "Claggett," he was saying, "is the place marked?" He hiccuped delicately. "Hup! Oh dear! the hiccups!" he complained with a frown. "Let me have more wine!"