Thinking I had talked long enough with the marine, I bent down to speak with Abraham, and that which I could dimly see caused so much surprise that my tongue absolutely refused to wag. And yet there was nothing particularly terrifying or astonishing in the scene, for it was made up only of Abel Grant’s boots; but they were stretched at full length along the narrow space which, in a larger vessel, would have been called a forepeak. In a twinkling I understood his purpose as well as if he had explained it in so many words. In the deck, at the heel of the bowsprit, we had, when building the sloop, put in a small hatch to the end that a hawser might be stowed below when we were riding to the anchor at short range, and this hatch gave, as a matter of course, directly upon the bitts, to which were attached a rope that held us to the British vessel. Abel Grant had conceived the idea of slipping this hawser by reaching up through the small aperture, and if it might be done without his hands being seen, which was a slight risk while the fog was so dense, then would the sloop be adrift. Five minutes afterward, with the tide on the ebb as it was, we should be so far astern that unless they came to seek us in a boat, we were free; but, and here I could see the defect in our “admiral’s” scheme, the marine would still be on board, and armed. However, despite the risk, for with a single shot those on the ship might have sunk our sloop off hand, it was a chance well worth the taking. I had so far regained my courage as to mentally snap my fingers at the remainder of the plan, trusting that Abel Grant had head enough to carry it through successfully. Now it was that I advanced one step up on the stairs, speaking again to the marine, and this time regarding the possibility that the fog might linger several days before lifting; but all the while watching out of the tail of my eye at that point just forward of the mainmast, where should be seen Abel Grant’s hand. Twice I thought I detected it, and it required all my strength of will to keep up the conversation with the marine, who answered curtly, his temper too far gone to admit of finding any amusement in conversing with a “blasted Yankee.” And then it seemed to me that Abel must have abandoned his purpose, for I saw no movement whatsoever until dimly there came within my line of vision that which was like unto a dark snake, wriggling slowly over the bow. Then a light splash in the water, so light that amid the lip, lip, lipping of the waves one could hardly have detected it, and my heart came into my throat with a bound, for I knew that the sloop was adrift.