It should be explained that the bunks usually handed over to the crew had, on this particular ship and on this particular voyage, been vacated for a special reason, and the space thus left free was filled with war material of an important nature. The ship herself, in pre-war days one of the ocean greyhounds which conveyed passengers between the United States and England, provided ample accommodation elsewhere for the crew as well as a 'tween-decks space for cargo—in this case, as has been hinted, of unusual value.
"Mighty queer," repeated Larry, as he thrust the stump end of a cigar into the corner of his mouth, American-wise, and chewed it savagely. "You're sure you're right, you young chaps. This feller, who is he?—one of the officers, crew, or what?"
Bill shook his head.
"Oh!" gulped Larry, drawing at his cigar and then regarding it severely when he found it had gone out.
"Couldn't say. Might be anything," said Jim reflectively. "It was too dark to be sure, but——"
"Yep, but——" Larry flicked the ash off the end of his smoke. "Yep," he repeated encouragingly, "but——"
"But he went for'ard."
"Oh, he went for'ard!" said Larry.
"For'ard!" ejaculated Bill; "but that's where——" and then he stopped in the midst of his sentence.