“Who goes there?” said a voice.
“Friend,” replied Archie; and, fearing to be asked for a countersign, he called quickly, “Despatches for Captain Hall.”
“Captain Hall is ashore,” announced a second voice, “and no one boards us till he returns.”
The Venture was near enough to the bank for Archie to hear some derisive comment, the words of which he could not completely distinguish. A suppressed laugh followed.
“Damn it!” he cried, “am I to be kept here all night?”
“Like enough, if you mean to wait for the captain.”
This reply came from the open porthole, in which the light was obliterated by the head of the man who spoke.
There was a sound as of someone pulling him back by the heels, and the port was an eye of light again.
Flemington turned and went up the bank, and as he reached the top and sprang on to the path he ran into a short, stoutish figure which was beginning to descend. An impatient expletive burst from it.
“You needn’t hurry, sir,” said Archie, as the other hailed the vessel querulously; “you are not likely to get on board?”