“But if they discover us—” objected Tom.
“They aren’t looking for us, I feel sure,” Cliff said. “They won’t be watching the water in this direction. They are getting their food and things, it is most likely.”
Going carefully, using a stroke that sent them through the water with little sound, they soon came close enough to see clearly the situation. One man sat, apparently waiting, in the tender, at the forward quarter; the chums held their breath and let themselves sink to the lowest point they could, till their feet touched the bottom, when they discovered him. But, either because he was half asleep, or from confidence that there was no one around, he sat slumped in the stern, and did not appear to notice anything unusual.
Treading water, catching finally the low rail where it almost dipped into the limpid water, at the shore side of the listing boat, Nicky, Cliff and Tom drew close together.
There was no one on deck. From the cabin came sounds of voices.
“I’m going to see—” whispered Cliff, and he began to climb up cautiously onto the deck. Nicky and Tom followed his example, but remained at the rail as he made a peremptory gesture to them to “stay back!”
Cliff crept closer to the cabin and when no one appeared and his courage rose, he became bolder and slipped on his wet feet to the cabin doorway. He listened a moment and then crept back to his chums and whispered rapidly.
Taking Cliff’s screwdriver-bladed knife, Tom went to the rearward door, into the engine room, and with the knife removed the screw from its knob, leaving the inner side of the door with no means of opening it. Then he “stood by,” watching, listening.
In the bows, hiding his face, using as gruff an imitation of Tew’s voice as he could, Cliff hailed the man in the boat in a low tone. “Come into the cabin, you,” he said. Then he hurried away.
Presently those in the cabin—Don Ortiga, Tew, their sailors and the cook, were surprised to see the boatman appear in their midst.