At that hour too there were strange doings on the wreck. The mysterious black schooner had returned. Only chance had prevented the men on the schooner from seeing the light that shone from Jeanne’s cabin, to which she had retired in uneasy solitude. They approached the wreck from the other side.
The first suggestion of their presence came to Jeanne as a slight bump ran through the stout old hull.
“A—a boat!” she breathed. Instantly her light was out. A moment had not elapsed before, wrapped in a long dark coat, she crept out on the deck.
Once outside, she stood there, silent, intent, ready to flee, listening.
“Chains,” she whispered at last, “I hear them. That’s what they had on that black schooner that other night. They mean to lift something with chains. I’ll creep along the deck to that box where life preservers were kept. Have a look at these men from there. They won’t see me. I’ll be in the shadows.”
She crept along in the deep shadows.
“Here—here’s the place.” She drew up behind a large box painted white.
After a brief rest to quiet the wild beating of her heart, she crept forward.
“There!” she whispered. “I can see them plainly from here. There’s the man in the diving rig again. He is just going over the side. Taking a chain with him. I can hear it rattle. Chain’s fast to a light cable. They’re going to try lifting something from below, that’s certain.”
The diver disappeared beneath black waters. Two other men stood at attention. The girl held her breath and waited. She tried to picture to herself the inside of the ship beneath the water.