Joe nodded. "All right. I'll keep watch."
Frank steered the motorboat back along the coast again and for the next hour or more they cruised about, waiting for twilight. At length sunset came and gradually the shadows fell. Lights began to twinkle in the town. Lights glowed from the mysterious schooner, now but a rakish shadow at the entrance to the harbor. When the lads judged that it was sufficiently dark to cover their approach, they returned, then crept quietly up on the ship.
They drew up close to the schooner's stern without being noticed and to Frank's relief he saw that a rope was dangling over the side. From the boat he reached out and seized it. The rope held fast; it supported his weight.
There were vague sounds from the deck above. The shuffling of feet. A burst of laughter from forward. Most of the men, he judged, would be in port, but it behooved him to move with caution.
"All set," he whispered to Joe.
"Right."
Frank swung himself away from the motorboat and began to climb slowly to the deck. Water lapped against the schooner's hull. The night was very quiet. Complete darkness had fallen by now. In a few moments Joe could only distinguish his brother as an obscure shadow as he clambered slowly upward.
Anxiously, Joe Hardy watched. He saw his brother climb higher and higher until at last his head and shoulders were silhouetted above the side of the ship.
Then Frank scrambled quietly over onto the deck. He had removed his shoes so as to proceed with a minimum of sound, so that once he had disappeared over the side Joe could hear nothing. He crouched in the boat, waiting.
Finally he heard a low whistle from the deck above. He looked up. He could see Frank leaning over the side. His brother's face was only a grey blur. He motioned with his arm, indicating that Joe was to follow him.