Then he noticed a pale reflection against what he supposed to be the bottom of a seat, and as it was evident that the overturned lantern had not quite gone out he crawled toward it. As he did so the splash and gurgle of water seemed much louder than it had done on deck. He could hear it surge against the sides of the vessel and the hollow sound jarred upon his nerves. He longed to escape from the oppressive obscurity and get out into the moonlight by his companion's side, but he reflected that it would not be pleasant to tell Harry that he had run away from the darkness and left the lantern. He determined to secure the latter, and he was moving toward it on hands and knees when his fingers struck something that felt like a pistol. He let it lie, however, and stretched out his hand for the lantern, setting it upright. The flickering flame grew brighter, and standing up he flung the uncertain light about him. There was undoubtedly a revolver on the uncovered floor, which was dripping wet, and he thought it curious that the smugglers should have left the weapon lying in that position; but ever since he had boarded the schooner he had been troubled by an uncomfortable sense of strangeness. The fact that her crew had abandoned her, apparently without a sufficient reason, suggested a mystery. Then he raised his hand so that the radiance touched a little, clamped-down table, and as it did so he started and came near dropping the lantern again, for a man sat at the table with his head and shoulders resting upon it as if he had suddenly fallen forward. Frank afterward confessed that his first impulse was to run toward the door, and he was never quite certain why he did not do so, but he stood still holding up the lantern, while his heart throbbed painfully and his flesh seemed to creep. The bent figure was unnaturally still, but when the schooner lurched and the table slanted it fell forward a little farther, all in one piece--which was how he thought of it--and as a heavy sack would have done. That was too much for Frank, and clambering up the steps he ran back to Harry in breathless haste. "You look as if something had scared you," said the latter with a trace of anxiety in his voice. Frank leaned against the house, and his face showed white and set in the moonlight. "There's a man lying across the table in the cabin," he panted. Harry started, but he pulled up his helm a spoke or two. "She'll come up if I leave her, but that won't matter much," he said. "We'll go back together." Frank felt a little easier now that he had a companion, and he was more collected when he stood in the cabin holding up the light while Harry, who called first and got no answer, walked cautiously toward the huddled figure. Then he shrank back a pace or two. "The man's dead!" he said.