the side for a possible way up. The ship being light forward was
heavily down in the stern, and he found the lower deck was not more
than six or seven feet above water level. It occurred to him that
if he could get hold of the mooring rope pawls he might be able to
climb aboard. But this after a number of trials he found impossible,
as in the absence of someone at the oars to steady the boat, the
latter always drifted away from the hull before he could grasp what
he wanted.

He decided he must risk passing through the lighted area, and,
having for the third time rowed round the stern, he brought the
boat up as close to the hull as possible until he reached the wharf.
Then passing in between the two rows of piles and feeling his way
in the dark, he made the painter fast to a diagonal, so that the
boat would lie hidden should anyone examine the steps with a light.
The hull lay touching the vertical piles, and Hilliard, edging
along a waling to the front of the wharf, felt with his foot through
the darkness for the stern belting. The tide was low and he found
this was not more than a foot above the timber on which he stood.
He could now see the deck light, an electric bulb on the side of
the captain's cabin, and it showed him the top of the taffrail some
little distance above the level of his eyes. Taking his courage in
both hands and stepping upon the belting, he succeeded in grasping
the taffrail. In a moment he was over it and on deck, and in another
moment he had slipped round the deckhouse and out of the light of
the lamp. There he stopped, listening for an alarm, but the silence
remained unbroken, and he believed he had been unobserved.

He recalled the construction of the ship. The lower deck, on which
he was standing, ran across the stern and formed a narrow passage