He refused to assist them in any way, however, and Mr. Bolin politely showed the party over the whole steamer. But of course, they found not a sign of Brandon.
After nearly an hour’s search the officers gave it up and departed, Caleb hurling after them several sarcastic remarks about their supposed intellectual accomplishments—or rather, their lack of such accomplishments.
The deputy sheriff, whose name was Snaggs, by the way, would not give it up, however, but still remained on the wharf.
Mr. Coffin, who had begun to take a lively interest in the proceedings, was pacing the inclined deck of the whaleback on the side furtherest from the pier, a few minutes past midnight (everybody on board was still awake at even this late hour) when his ear caught the sound of a gentle splash in the black waters just below him.
He stopped instantly and leaned over the rail.
“Hist!” whispered a voice out of the darkness. “Toss me a rope. I want to come aboard.”
Mr. Coffin was not a man to show his emotions, and therefore, without a word, he dropped the end of a bit of cable into the water, just where he could see the faint outlines of the owner of the voice.
Hidden by the wheelhouse from the view of anybody who might be on the wharf, he assisted the person aboard, and in a minute the mysterious visitor stood upon the iron plates at Mr. Coffin’s side.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE DEPARTURE OF THE WHALEBACK, NUMBER THREE
No emergency was ever too great for Lawrence Coffin. The appearance of the stranger whom he had lifted over the rail to the steamer’s deck may have surprised him; but he gave no visible sign.