Chapter Four.
The Stowaways.
The “Harnessed Mule” was a splendid vessel of a hundred and fifty tons; and as she sailed past the Nore like a floating queen flapping her white wings in the breeze, she reminded the beholders that England still rules the waves.
Her crew consisted of a skipper, four men, and a boy.
Was that all?
Who is this lurking figure in the forward hold, who, with a complacent smile on his lips, gazes on a crumpled map, and ever and anon sharpens a gimlet?
There is a stowaway on board the “Harnessed Mule.”
One? There are two.
For in the stern hold lurks another figure, also smiling, as the wind plays through the thin hair on the top of his head, and mutters to himself—
“Ha! ha! Time will show.”
Sail on, O “Harnessed Mule.” You carry a weighty freight inside you. Who will reach the goal first?