“True,” remarked Smellie, still in the most cautious of whispers. “I feel more than half-inclined to climb inboard and make a tour of the decks.”
“All right, sir!” I agreed. “Let us slip off our shoes and get on board at once. You take the starboard side of the deck; I’ll take the port side. We can meet again on the forecastle.”
“Agreed,” was the reply; and slipping off our shoes forthwith we waited for another flash of lightning, and then, in the succeeding darkness, scrambled noiselessly in on deck and proceeded on our tour of investigation.
On reaching the schooner’s deck we separated, and I made it my first business to carefully examine the skylight and companion. In the profound darkness it was quite impossible to see anything; but by careful manipulation I soon ascertained that the former was shut down, and that the doors of the latter were closed and the slide drawn over within about six inches, as Smellie had said. It must have been frightfully hot down in the cabin, but the officers apparently preferred that to having a deluge of rain beating down below. The cabin was dimly lighted by a swinging lamp turned down very low; but I could see no one, nor was there any sound of movement down there—at which I was considerably surprised, because if the schooner really belonged to Señor Madera, as I had supposed, one would have expected to find one or two persons at least on the alert in attendance upon the wounded man.
Having learned all that it was possible to learn in this quarter, I next proceeded aft as far as the taffrail, where I found the deck encumbered on both sides by two big coils of mooring hawser, the other ends of which were secured, as I had noticed earlier in the day, to a couple of tree-trunks on shore.
I next proceeded leisurely forward, noting on my way the fact that the schooner mounted a battery of four brass nine-pounders on her starboard side—and of course her port battery would be the same. The main hatchway was securely covered in with a grating, up through which arose the unmistakable odour which betrays the presence of slaves in a ship’s hold. All was quiet, however, below—the poor wretches down there having probably obtained in sleep a temporary forgetfulness of their miserable condition. On reaching the galley I found that the door on the port side was closed; but on applying my ear to the chink I fancied I could detect, through the steady swish of the rain, the sounds of regular breathing, as of a slumbering man. Forward of the galley was the foremast, and on clearing this a faint gleam of light indicated the position of the fore-scuttle; and whilst I was still glancing round in an endeavour to discover the presence of a possible anchor-watch the light was suddenly obscured by the interposition of the second lieutenant’s body, as he cautiously peered down into the forecastle. I advanced to his side and laid my hand upon his arm, at the same time mentioning his name to apprise him of my presence.
“Well,” he whispered, first drawing me away from the open scuttle, “what have you discovered?”
I told him, adding that I thought the anchor-watch must have taken refuge in the galley from the rain, and there have fallen asleep.
“Yes,” whispered Smellie; “he is safe enough there, and sound asleep, for I accidentally touched him without disturbing his slumber.”
I thought the time had now arrived for the propounding of my brilliant idea.