"And so am I," admitted Malcolm. "We're rationed on a four-days basis, aren't we?" The meal consisted of a Plasmon biscuit, a small bar of chocolate, and a slice of potato bread. The brothers ate in silence, their ears strained to catch the first sound of the returning bargees.
"We ought to have provided ourselves with water," whispered Peter. "We never bargained for being cooped up here, otherwise I would have brought a tin."
"I'm not thirsty," said Malcolm, "but isn't it cold?"
"Rather!" admitted Peter with conviction. "It's early morning yet, and the coal has lost its heat by radiation. Before midday we'll be hot enough, I fancy, with the sun pouring down upon our black roof. Hist! Footsteps!"
The sounds of heavily-shod feet crunching on the dew-soddened gravel drew nearer and nearer. Then voices could be distinguished. "Women!" whispered Malcolm.
The New Zealanders listened intently. The sound of footsteps ceased, although the voluble conversation continued. Then the thudding foot-falls drew nearer, while the unmistakable sound of a coil of rope being thrown upon the deck of one of the other barges was heard.
The clamour drew closer. Supposedly the string of barges was "manned" by women, the diminishing group halting at each barge to prolong the conversation before the crews boarded their respective boats, until, by the clatter almost overhead, the fugitives knew that the last barge had received its complement--two, perhaps three, buxom and stolid German women.
Malcolm could hear the padlock to the cabin hatch being unlocked. Pails clattered, water sluiced along the diminutive after deck. Despite the dirty nature of the cargo, the crew were making determined efforts to keep the deck and Cuddy clean. Wood crackled in the cabin stove, smoke wafted for'ard, wisps eddying into the fugitives' hiding-place. Then came the appetizing odour of frying sausages.
An hour passed; still no indication that the barges were starting on their daily journey. Two boats, however, passed, proceeding in the opposite direction, each drawn by a horse. Malcolm could hear the lap of the water against the bows. That was a fairly sure indication, taking into consideration the direction of the wind, that the barges were going eastwards. With a following wind the ripples would be absent, or, at least, hardly perceptible.
As each barge passed there was a lively exchange of greetings between their crews and those of the stationary boats; but, in spite of the fact that the Carrs had picked up several German words during their period of captivity, the hidden listeners were unable to understand the conversation, beyond the knowledge that it referred largely to the air raid of the previous night.