"I'll not budge."
"Don't come to the dock," she warned.
"No fear."
She disappeared among the trees at a brisk walk, while the boatman edged his craft closer to the shore, made fast to a shelf of rock, and prepared to smoke. Twice he chuckled, once broke into a low laugh, as he sat in the stern of his launch, and waited.
As the dusk thickened he lighted a grimy lantern. Its dim, yellow rays illuminated the cock-pit, and his eyes fell upon a book that lay on the floor. He reached for it, and picked it up, and began a casual study of its pages.
There was one page, however, to which he reverted at frequent intervals, finally devoting his undivided attention to a study of it. He was thus engaged when a light footstep caused him to drop the volume.
The lady was standing within a few feet of him, a bundle in her arms.
"Catch it!" she commanded.
It unrolled itself as it reached his arms, and half a dozen dry cells clattered to the floor of the cock-pit. The wrapper that contained them was a light silk shawl. Almost simultaneously with the bundle Rosalind herself was aboard.
Sam, the boatman, picked up the nearest cell and examined it.