The Wavecrest pitched a good bit at the end of her cable. I made up my bed and arranged the lamp in its gimbals near the head of the berth, and so took off my outer clothing and lay down to read. I did not think that the lamplight could be seen from without, even if a boat came quite near me. Being so far in-shore I had lit no riding light. It was unnecessary at these moorings.
I did not read for long. Used to the swing of the sea as I had been for years the bucking of the Wavecrest as she tugged at her cable, put me to sleep before I had any idea that I was sleepy. And my lamp was left burning.
I do not know how long I was unconscious—at least, I did not know at the moment of my awakening; but suddenly something bumped against the sloop’s counter. I thought when I opened my eyes:
“Here they are! Now for some fun.”
I supposed they would not have seen my light and I was going to put my head out of the cabin and scare them before they could do the Wavecrest any harm.
But as it proved, the bumping of the small boat against the sloop did not announce the arrival of the enemy. Almost instantly—I had not got into my trousers, indeed—there came a great hammering at the cabin door.
I did not speak, although at first I supposed the rascals were knocking to arouse me. Then it shot across my bewildered mind that somebody was nailing up the cabin door!
“Hello there! stop that!” I bawled, getting interested in the proceedings right away.
But there was no answer, unless certain whisperings that I could not understand could be considered as such. Several long nails—twenty-penny, I was sure—were driven home. Then there was a clattering of boots and the small boat bumped the sloop’s counter again.
They were getting into their own boat. They had left me in a nice fix—nailed up tightly in the cabin of my boat. I was mad ’way through; instead of playing any joke on Paul Downes and his friends, they had played me a most scurvy trick.