Like everything else about Captain Briggs' schooner, the scuttle, now that Ned came to prove it, did not appear to be over and above secure.
"I believe that with good luck I can force it clean off its hinges," murmured Ned as he investigated.
Indeed it seemed so. The door worked about on its hinges so freely, it showed that those attachments were not securely fastened or else, as was more likely, the wood had rotted about the screws.
Ned possessed a good stock of patience and he took plenty of time, working the door about till it moved easily. Then he placed his shoulder to it and gave a gentle but strong heave. The screws drew out of the rotten wood as if they had been fastened into cheese.
Five minutes after he had first applied his strength, Ned, feeling like a modern Samson, lifted off the door of his place of captivity and was ready to step out on deck.
But first he took a cautious look about him. There was a bright moon. By its beams Ned saw that, as he had suspected, Captain Briggs and his crew, worn out by their night's work, were sleeping the sleep of the just. They had turned in "all standing" and lay sprawled on the deck in any but picturesque attitudes.
"So far, so good," murmured Ned to himself, "and the dinghy's out astern, too. Better and better. I believe that this is going to go through without a hitch."
He cautiously replaced the hatchway and stepped boldly out on the deck. Captain Briggs stirred in his slumbers and growled out some orders that came to him in his dreams.
"Stand by to go about! Mind sheets and braces!" he muttered.
"My! but he's going to be a surprised man when he wakes up!" grinned Ned to himself. "I'm sorry for his crew; he'll take it out on them, for I verily believe that the old shell-back thought I was some boy millionaire and worth at least a thousand in reward money to him."