Scoble listened at the door of the lady’s room; but she was still asleep. Then he went to the pantry, took down one of the lanterns, lighted it in the cabin, and then went on deck. Felix sprang from his bed as soon as he had ascended the companion-way, and followed him as far as the slide. He made the lantern fast in the main rigging, where the party on shore had seen it. Felix readily understood that this was a signal for the guidance of the mate on his return, and possibly to assure him that his superior was on deck. Scoble then went forward, roused the anchor watch, still asleep on the windlass, and ordered him to call Bawkin, who was the man who had his watch below. The captain came aft as soon as the other man appeared. Felix retreated a few steps down the stairs; but returned to his position as soon as he heard the voice of the master. “Take off the stops of the mainsail!” said Scoble, in an ugly tone, as though he was not in a happy frame of mind. Felix was not sailor enough to know what this order meant, and did not understand what a “stop” was; and it is often called a “gasket.” But in a few minutes more he saw the men, the captain working with them, hoist the mainsail, still reefed as when it had been furled. The foresail was then set, and both of these sails were banging and pounding in the gale, which could be felt to some extent behind the promontory. Then the three men went forward, and the watcher followed them as far as it was prudent for him to go. They manned the old-fashioned windlass, and proceeded to heave up the anchor to a short stay, though Felix did not comprehend the manœuvre in which they were engaged. The hoisting of the foresail and the mainsail indicated that the captain intended to go to sea again, and that he was ready to do so in a hurry. These preparations convinced the Milesian that Louis and the captain from the Park, as the latter expressed it, had been “euchred.” As he understood it, the Maud was about to sail for Southampton again, and without Louis or Captain Ringgold. He had all he wanted to think of then, as though a hole had been made in the world, and he had dropped out of it. Captain Scoble seated himself on the companion, and Felix caught an occasional glance at him. The watcher kept his eyes and his ears wide open, and in less than half an hour he heard the dip and rattle of a pair of oars. Something, that for which he had been waiting, was about to happen. The boat came up to the gangway, and Frinks sprang to the deck with the painter in his hand. The two men forward were called, and ordered to hoist up the boat to the stern-davits. “You come back alone, Mr. Frinks,” said the captain, in a dissatisfied tone. “Where is Bickling?” “I had to leave him on shore, or blow the whole thing,” replied the mate. “But we can’t get along without a cook,” added the captain sourly. “We can get along as well as we did coming over,” returned Frinks. “My wife is on board now.”