"Oh no: not to-night!" I said. "Perhaps Bob Hampton will be able to
propose a better way next time he comes."
"If he does come, my lad."
"Ah, you don't know him so well as I do, Mr Frewen. He is sure to come
again."
"I hope he will, my lad."
"Oh, he will; and you see if he does not tell us to wait until he and
Neb Dumlow are on guard. They'll get us out and then help us to open
the cabins one by one."
"Nothing like being sanguine, my lad," he said; "but there, it's getting
very late. Let's sleep now."
I did not feel at all disposed to obey, and lay still, watching the
stars through the open cabin-window, thinking over the events of the
earlier part of the night, till the stars were blotted out, and I was as
fast asleep as Mr Frewen, or our fellow-prisoner in the next cabin, who
breathed so heavily that when I was awake it sounded like a snore.
I seemed to be watching the stars one minute, and the dazzling water the
next, for the sun was high when I opened my eyes again, and the sea
looked of such a delicious blue, that it was hard to feel low-spirited,
and trouble oneself about our failure.
Mr Frewen lay on the floor fast asleep, and I was thinking whether I
had not better follow his example, when I started up and gave my head a
thump against the top of the cot, for something suddenly appeared at the
round opening of the cabin-window, and for a moment I thought it was a
bird. The next I was out of my cot and close to the window, waiting for
an opportunity to make a snatch at the object swinging to and fro.
I could have made a dart at it instantly, but I wanted to make sure,
knowing as I did that Bob Hampton or one of his men must be leaning over
the bulwarks listening, and that the bait at the end of the thin line
hanging down over our window was intended for me.
At last I made a snatch at the object, but it only swung out of reach;
then another snatch, but all in vain. But the last time I was
successful, for one of my hands flew out, and I caught hold of and
dragged the bait in, cut the line with my pocket-knife, and saw it
snatched up out of sight directly.
I made some slight noise in starting back, and Mr Frewen rose quickly
to his elbow to stare in my excited face.
"What is it?" he said in a hurried whisper.
For answer I held before him a packet of something made up in a piece of
canvas, and tied round with spun-yarn.
"Let down to the cabin-window," I whispered, full of excitement, for the
packet was heavy, and I had my suspicions as to what it contained.
I had my knife still in my hand, and my fingers itched to cut the yarn
and open the parcel; but I thrust it beneath the blanket on the cot, and
went to the cabin-door to listen.
All was silent there, and though I listened for a few minutes, there did
not seem to be any one stirring on deck, so I turned back to Mr Frewen,
who was now standing by the cot, with his hands under the blanket, and
offered him the knife.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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