"Afloat?"
"Yes, sir. The one forward has pushed off loaded. The after-boat is alongside. There is such a hell of a fog, sir, yer can't see two fathoms from the ship."
"All the better for us; is the girl in the boat?"
"Safe, sir; but LeVere ain't."
"What do you mean? That he has got away? I ordered you to have Harwood watch him."
"Yes, sir; but the mate slipped out o' sight in the fog. He's somewhar aboard, but we ain't been able ter put hands on him nowhar yet."
"Never mind him; the fellow can do no harm now. Move back slowly lads.
Schmitt and I will be the last ones out. Pick up that cutlass,
Schmitt. We must act before those devils down there wake up again."
We closed the companion door as silently as possible and for the moment there was no sound from within to show that our cautious withdrawal had been observed. I stared about, but was able to perceive little beyond the small group awaiting my orders. The fog clung thick and heavy on all sides, the lungs breathed it in, and the deck underfoot was as wet as though from heavy rain. Moisture dripped from yards and canvas, and it was impossible for the eye to penetrate to either rail. Fortunately there was no weight of sea running, and the bark swung gently, still retaining steerage-way, but with not wind enough aloft to flap the sails. The silence and gloom was most depressing.
"Is there a hand at the wheel, Watkins?"
"No sir; it's lashed."