Peter backed out of his predicament to an accompaniment of squeaking grunts, and I followed him, too bitterly disappointed for words. Escape had seemed so easy—and now we were condemned to two months aboard the Walrus, very likely to exceedingly uncomfortable deaths, for I fancied that Flint was the sort of man to lose his queer mixture of fear and respect for my great-uncle as soon as they were out of touch.
"Hold der light here, Bob," said Peter, squatting on the litter of the deck, and he proceeded to extract a splinter from his foot.
"Ja, dot's goodt," he went on, standing up. "Well, we don't get oudt dot way."
"Are you sure we could not tear off another plank?" I answered. "I might find a hammer—or a chisel——"
"Andt der noise brings der watch! Neen, we got a better chance."
"What, Peter?"
"You see!"
He felt his way toward the ladder to the cabin-hatch.
"Always there is another way, Bob. If one way is not goodt, der other maybe is better. Ja! You see."
He climbed the ladder silently in his bare feet until his great shoulders were directly beneath the square of the hatch, and I heard a faint grinding of straining metal, the crackling of tortured wood.