'If so,' I said, 'he'd be more likely to pick him up on the station.'
'Maybe,' Curtis acknowledged. 'Still-' He caught my arm. 'What's that?'
I listened. But I could hear nothing beyond the gurgle of the water under the bridge.
'I thought I heard somebody call — up towards the factory.'
'Probably one of the staff,' I said. 'It's early yet.'
We stood there for some time, listening to the sound of the tide among the rocks. But we heard nothing more. We returned to the ship then and had food whilst Wilson and Carter kept watch.
Shortly after eleven, Dick, Curtis and I went ashore. We were wearing rubber shoes and dark clothes. The moon was beginning to rise and a faint light illuminated the sky. We settled ourselves behind a broken jumble of rocks near the bridge. There was no sound from the cutting now. The tide was at the high and the water slack. It began to get cold. The light in the sky steadily whitened. Soon we could see the bridge and the dark shadow of the cut.
Suddenly, away to my left, I caught the creak of oars. 'Did you hear it?' Dick whispered. 'He's coming up the cut.'
I nodded.
A loose stone rattled down against the rocks away to our right. I barely noticed it. I was listening to the creak of the oars, peering through the opaque uncertainty of the light to where I knew the inlet was. But I could see nothing — only the vague shape of rock and water. The creaking of the oars ceased. Silence for a moment; then the jar of a boat against rock. There was the clatter of oars being shipped and then, after a pause, the sound of boots coming towards us across the rock on the other side of the cutting.