"Just the thing!" he cried. "Come with me."
He rose and led the way to the end of the forecastle. Here there was a small door leading to a pantry.
"There is a trap-door in that pantry," explained the old sailor. "The old man doesn't know of it. Some of the boys made it on the last trip, when we were carrying a lot of provisions, and the captain tried to cut down the rations. He saved one way but lost a good deal the other;" and the old sailor laughed at the memory of the affair.
It was an easy matter to raise the trap-door. The distance to the cargo stowed below was but a few feet, and I dropped down.
"Shall I go with you or stand guard?" asked Dibble.
"Better stand guard," I replied. "If any one comes get them out of the forecastle the best way you can. Have you a chisel or something like it?"
"Here is one, and a wooden mallet, too." He brought the articles forward. "Be careful how you make a noise."
"I will," was my reply. "But I haven't any light."
"Here's a bit of candle. Be careful and don't set anything afire."
Dibble handed the candle to me, and then closed the trap.