Squeezing the fear out of his mind, he set himself to the accomplishment of his task. The thought of old Piper, calm invincibly, confirmed him in his purpose. Yet he couldn't help reminding himself with a snigger, that old Piper was safe in an arm-chair on land, while he was out there in the water with the work to do. Still, now if ever was his time. The moon was gone. In another hour the dawn would begin to glimmer. Between the two his chance lay. Treading water a cable's-length away, he observed the ship intently. She lay upon the water like a dead thing. The great dark hull, seen against the living night, appeared carcass-like. Her stillness was almost terrible. Not a spar creaked, not a match glowed. She was dark as death, and as silent. As he watched, a humming noise, rising and falling, came to him across the water. He held his breath. Then he recognised it, with a gasp of relief. Somebody was snoring. That domestic sound cheered him amazingly. At least the ship was not a sepulchre. Her crew were neither dead nor devils. They were human. They snored. He swam round the ship, stealthy as an otter in the Coquet. So far as he could see there was not a soul on deck. Then, as he came under her stern, he noticed for the first time that another vessel lay alongside. A thought, swift as a dagger, struck at his heart. Could it be that the Gentleman had somehow picked up a lugger, and so won aboard? Was he too late? Then with a gasp of thankfulness he remembered. It was the _Kite_, of course. The tide had set her alongside; and now she lay scraping the side of the privateer. A handier stepping-stone he could not have asked. CHAPTER XLI PIGGY, THE PRIVATEERSMAN I In a minute he had clambered aboard the lugger. The privateer had dropped a hawser over her side as buffer. The boy was up it in a moment, and on to the deck, his heart beating high. The deck was empty. No! a figure was leaning over the side, his back to Kit. No sailor, obviously. He was wearing a great bearskin, and Kit caught the glimmer of a bayonet. A sentinel, and not asleep, nor drunk; for he was humming _Ça Ira_. _La Coquette_ too then carried soldiers! Stealthy as a cat, the boy drew away along the deck. Piper, weather- wise old man, had told him truth. Thin wisps of mists were sweeping over the sea, veiling the stars. How God helps His little children who help Him! Up the shrouds of the foremast. The ratlines seared his feet. A little wind licked his body. The mist was chill as a winding-sheet. There was no danger of being seen. He was nearer the stars than the deck. Between him and it now lay a blanket of mist. But what was that in the East? It was the whitening of the dawn. There was no time to be lost. He swarmed up the top-gallant mast, unwound the flag, and made it fast. How it fluttered!--what a rollicking tow-row!--had ever flag rampaged so boisterously!