“I’ll wait up the road under the arch,” said Captain Gething. “Now don’t run away,” said Tillotson impressively. “If you won’t go by train, perhaps the schooner is the best thing we can do.” He set off to the station, and after a hurried consultation with Glover, returned anxiously to the arch. Gething, standing in the shadow with his hands in his pockets, was patiently waiting. “It’s all right,” said Tillotson cheerfully; “and now for a sea voyage. You know the way to the schooner, I suppose.” They made their way back cautiously, Captain Gething turning off to the left before they reached the harbor and leading the way through dingy little streets of private houses and chandlers’ shops. It was not a part usually frequented by people taking an evening stroll, and Henry, who had begun to get uneasy at their absence, and starting in search of them had picked them up at the corner, followed wondering. His wonder increased as they left the houses and met the cool air blowing from the river. The road was dark and uneven, and he followed cautiously, just keeping them in sight, until at a tumble-down little wharf they halted, and after a low consultation, boarded a small schooner lying alongside. There was nobody on the deck, but a light showed in the cabin, and after a minute’s hesitation they went below. An hour or two passed, and the small watcher, ensconced behind a pile of empties, shivered with the cold. Unconscious of the amicable overtures in the cabin, which had resulted in the master of the _Frolic_ taking a couple of cabin passengers who were quite willing to rough it in the matter of food and accommodation, and willing to pay for it, he was afraid to desert his post. Another hour passed. A couple of seamen came by his place of concealment, and stepping aboard, went down the foc’sle. A clock struck eleven, and a few minutes later the light in the cabin was extinguished. The boy watched another quarter of an hour and then, the ship being dark and still, crept noiselessly on board. The sound of deep snoring came from the cabin, and gaining the wharf again, he set off as hard as he could run to the _Seamew_. CHAPTER XIII Wilson and the mate returned to the ship laden with their spoils, and pitching them on board first, descended themselves by a slower but pleasanter method. “I expect our chaps are all ashore still,” said the mate, looking round. “Pretty state they’ll be in for a start. I suppose the boy’s down with the cap’n.” “Just go down and send him up,” said the skipper; “it’s rather a delicate thing to do to give a man a suit of clothes. I don’t want anybody standing round.” “There’s no light,” said the mate, looking towards the skylight. He went below and felt his way into the cabin. “All in the dark?” he said cheerfully.