Marston nodded. The gig was heavy and he doubted if they could launch her down a beach. It would be risky to tie her to landing steps, because the port-guards watched the harbors at night. Vessels were not allowed to enter after dark. Yet he did not want to be separated from Harry. In the meantime, they were fast coming up with the light, and when a high, dark wall ran out in front Wyndham luffed the boat and they lowered sail and took down the mast. Marston sculled her past the wall, and the narrow harbor opened up. A few anchor lights swung languidly inside, and the indistinct, dark shape of a steamer shut out part of the wall. When they got near her Marston stopped sculling. "The repairing slip is up at the top by the foundry," he said. "I expect the brigantine to starboard has a rope out. If we try to get across, we might make a splash. If we go the other side, we'll pass close under the steamer's rail. She's a pretty big boat; they'll have a _Sereno_ on board, and keep harbor watch. If somebody hailed us, it might bring the port-guard." Wyndham nodded and for a few moments they looked about. The harbor was long and narrow. For the most part, the town at its end was dark, but two or three big electric lamps threw a silver gleam across indistinct masses of foliage. Marston thought these were trees on the _marina_ at the water's edge. If so, the faint light lower down came from the office of the port-captain. Turning to the wall abreast of the gig, he imagined he saw some steps. "Perhaps you had better land me and wait while I try to find the tug," he said. "I ought to get back in an hour." "The awkward part is going along the mole," Wyndham replied. "You'll have to pass two or three vessels and somebody may speak to you. This must be risked one way, but instead of coming back, it might be prudent to cross the land end of the mole and join me on the beach in front of the _marina_. There's not much surf to bother us, but it will make some noise and if anybody is about you won't be heard." Marston agreed, and sculling to the steps, jumped out. He pushed off the gig, and Wyndham picked up the oar. In another few moments the boat vanished in the dark. CHAPTER VII THE TUG