save himself; was scarcely given another thought. Yet no one knew
positively that this was so, because no one cared. The death of the
lad had simply been taken for granted, when LeVere failed to see his
body rise again to the surface. Yet it was quite within the realm of
possibility for the fellow to come up once more in that darkness,
beyond LeVere's range of vision, and even to have remained afloat,
buoyed up by clinging to the anchor hawser, until strong enough to
return on board. At least there was no one aboard the _Namur_ able to
deny that this had been done.

Satisfied by this reasoning of being able to pass myself off as the
dead man, with small danger of detection, and likewise assured--so
far at least as eyes and ears testified--that none of the crew were
grouped on the forecastle, to be attracted by my movements, I began,
slowly and cautiously, to drag myself up the taut hawser, hoping thus
to attain a position from which to gain hand-hold on the rail, and
thus attain the deck unseen. While my explanation might suffice, I
greatly preferred having to present it only as a last resort. I would
much rather slip quietly aboard, and mingle unnoticed with the crew
for the next few hours, than be haled at once before LeVere, and
endure his scrutiny and possible violence. The fellow was evidently a
brute, and a hard master. Seemingly I had chosen a fortunate moment
for my effort; no one heeded the little noise I made, and, when I
finally topped the rail, and was able to look inboard, it was to
discover a deserted fore deck, with the watch all engaged at some task
amidships. There was no gleam of light, but I could hear the patter of
feet, and imagined seeing dim moving figures. A rather high-pitched
voice was giving orders, and enough of his words reached me to
convince that other men were aloft on the main yard. Believing my best
policy would be to join those busied on deck, just as though I