Towards what seemed the centre of the stream there was a light shining so high above them that it appeared, until they drew nearer, like a solitary star in the dark sky. But the black bulk of a ship’s stern presently coming in sight, it was apparent that the light belonged to a large vessel lying at anchor in the river. Under the shadow of this vessel—if further shadow were possible in this deep darkness—the boat pulled up, and the lantern was again produced. ‘I’ll go first, my lad,’ said Fenwick, touching Walter on the shoulder again with his stick. ‘Keep close.’
This time the rays from the lantern ascended, rising on a level with the men’s heads as they went up the ship’s side. As soon as they reached the deck, the rays again vanished.
‘We will now proceed to business,’ said the detective.
‘Ay, ay, sir,’ cried a sailor who had stepped forward to receive the visitors. ‘Your men are waiting below.’
‘Then lead the way.’
Walter, wondering what this mystification meant, followed close upon the heels of Fenwick and the sailor. A few steps brought them to what was obviously the entrance to the steerage, for it had the dingy appearance common to that part of a passenger-ship.
‘Are the emigrants below?’ asked the detective.
‘Ay, ay,’ replied the sailor—‘fast asleep.’
‘So much the better,’ remarked Fenwick. Then he added, with a glance at Walter: ‘Now for the identification.’
The sailor led the way down to heaps of human beings lying huddled together not unlike sheep, with their heads against boxes, or upon canvas bags, or packages covered with tarpaulin. The air was warm and oppressive; and the men, women, and children who were packed in this place had a uniform expression of weariness on their faces, as though they were resigned to all the perils and dangers that could be encountered upon a long voyage.