"John, take him quietly to the cabin and shove him in—it's the Commander coming aboard," my brother added. "Scarlett, get back into the deck-house and light that lamp. Mr. Carey is dressed like the German boatswain, and he will show the officer straight into the deck-house. It's ten to one the sailors won't come up. Remember to do your job without the slightest noise—you, Adams, and Bosustow."
"Out him, sir?"
"I'm afraid so. There is no other way. Directly it is over, take off his clothes and bring them down into the cabin. Mind the men in the boat hear nothing."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Then my brother turned to me. The boat was now almost by the side of the Hulk.
"You understand, John?" he said.
I touched his arm, afraid to speak.
"Then go and get the rope-ladder."
I stepped to the deck-cabin and saw the three sailors standing round it among the litter of shooting gear. A smoky lamp hung from the ceiling. Scarlett passed me the ladder. I took it and went to the side—my brother had disappeared.
There was a low hiss seven feet below. I hissed, too, fixed the ladder hooks, and dropped the rest of it. One of the sailors caught it, while the other steadied the boat, and a slim man of just over middle height came up like a cat. He wore some sort of dark uniform, what it was I could not see. The collar was turned up round his face, which appeared to be clean-shaved.