"It is only Dickory," whispered the voice.
Then she put her head near him and was glad enough to have put her arms around his neck.
"I have heard a great deal more," whispered Dickory; "these men are dreadful. They do not know what keeps your father, although they have suspicions which I could not make out; but if he does not come on board by ten o'clock they will sail without him, and without his cash-box."
"And what of me?" she almost cried, "what of me?"
"They will take you with them," said he; "that's the only thing for them to do. But don't be frightened, don't tremble. You must leave this vessel."
"But how?" she said.
"Oh! I will attend to that," he answered, "if you will listen to me and do everything I tell you. We can't go until it is dark, but while it is light enough for you to see things I will show you what you must do. Now, look down over the side of the vessel."
She leaned over and looked down. He was apparently clinging to the side with his head barely reaching the top of the rail.
"Do you see this bit of ledge I am standing on?" he asked. "Could you get out and stand on this, holding to this piece of rope as I do?"
"Yes," said she, "I could do that."