Like a good general, the victim had carefully estimated the force on the other side, and he went to the open hatch to consider the approaches to the prison of his friends. The wind was north-north-east, and the Maud was beating out of the lower bay of New York. As the schooner tacked, all hands on deck were occupied, and Louis found his opportunity to look at the lower hatch, as the mate called it. The main hatch opened into the between-decks, not often found in small crafts. Directly under it was another, with the hatches on, secured by a broad iron bar, bent to fit the curve. Beneath this closed hatch, if the mate had told him the truth, Captain Ringgold and Felix were imprisoned. Louis examined the iron bar with interest, and discovered that it was held in place by a large padlock. Of course it was locked, and the key was probably in the mate’s pocket. If he attempted to release the prisoners, it would take a long time to break the lock, and Frinks would sound the alarm if he should jump down the hatch. He would have at least three men upon him in an instant, and it was not prudent to undertake any movement in this direction. If the victim had examined the between-decks, he would have found that it was fitted up for second-class passengers, with rude berths on the sides. He wondered if there was any means of getting from the cabin to the steerage, as the place was called, or sometimes the fore cabin. He remembered the door he had seen opening from the pantry, and he had a hope that he might effect an entrance by it. The motion of the schooner was very uneasy, and the wind seemed to be increasing to a gale. The Maud was carrying all her principal sails, and she was making rough weather of it. The sea broke over her at times, and it must soon be necessary to close the main hatch. But it was time for Louis to inquire into the condition of his mother, and he descended the companion-way to the cabin. He looked about him as he entered, but he saw nothing of Scoble, though he was confident he was close at hand. He entered the stateroom, and found his mother in just the position he had left her. The son wondered if Scoble had been near her; but he could not answer the question. He bent over the sick lady and listened to her breathing. It was very seldom that she was ill, and at these times her son was her only nurse, so that he was not altogether unskilled in the duties of the sickroom. “Are we going back to the shore, Louis?” she asked, when she was conscious of his presence. “How do you feel, mother?” inquired he, without answering her question. “I hope you are better.” “I am a great deal better, my boy; and I should get up if I were not afraid it would make me worse,” replied Mrs. Belgrave, raising her head. “Are we going back to Southfield now?”