“By the height up.”
“You’re right, boy; so it is.”
“And there,” said Mark softly, “it was someone lighting a cigar.”
“Yes; I can smell it. But hist!”
“It was my father,” said Mark excitedly. “I know what he’s doing: smoking at the cabin-window.”
“May be,” whispered back the mate cautiously. “Here, pull that starboard oar, Small.”
The boatswain obeyed, and the one impulse seemed to send them all into a greater darkness, while the odour of tobacco pervaded the air quite strongly and a little point of light shone above their heads.
“Father!” whispered Mark, for he could not control himself, and the word slipped from his tongue.
“Mark? Hush!” came back to set all doubts at rest.
“Here, hook on, Small, keep the boat as she is,” said Mr Gregory; and this was done in silence; but it was some few minutes before they were in their former position, all being done with the most extreme caution.