“I’ve been watching for a long time. He’s got a wind-scoop fixed over his port-hole, so as to screen it from the deck. It’s on this side; look out of your own port, and you’ll see the flashes. Go on—I’ll wait.”
Jim sprang to his port-hole. A sleepy voice came from Wally’s berth, demanding what was up?
“Look out here, Wal,” said Jim’s voice, from the darkness, in a quick whisper. “Can’t you see flashes? There’s some queer game on. Norah saw it first, and woke me.”
There was never any hesitation on the part of Wally between being profoundly asleep and broad awake. He was at Jim’s side in a bound, craning his neck through the narrow opening. Then the two boys faced each other in the dark.
“This is a nice little find,” Jim ejaculated. “There are no officers’ quarters down here, are there?”
“No; nothing but passengers. Do you know who have cabins on this side?”
“There’s West,” Jim said, considering—“and Grantham, that New South Wales fellow, and I think Mrs. Andrews. I don’t know who else.”
“I’m coming in—I’m lonely!” said Norah, from the door. She groped her way in, suddenly relieved to find Jim’s hand on her shoulder.
“Poor little kiddie!” he said. “A jolly good thing you saw it. Is it next cabin to yours?”
“No—the one after the next—that’s vacant,” Norah said. “It’s the little one where I dress. The light comes from the one next to that. I don’t know who sleeps in it—it opens on a different alley-way. You don’t think we’re making a mistake, Jim? I was so afraid you’d think I was a duffer to come to you.”