So I slipped aft without making a noise, and avoided attracting to myself unwelcome attention from the poop.  I was barefoot, and I crept along the rail, keeping within the shadows on the lee deck.  When I came abreast the roundhouse, I darted into the black shadow it threw upon the lee deck, and crouched there, composed to wait.  My eyes were aft, upon the break of the poop, and I was ready to take instant flight for’ard, did discovery threaten me.

After I had lain there a moment, I noticed the figure of a man standing motionless, flattened against the cabin wall, on my side of the deck.  He was so still he appeared to be lifeless, a part of the ship; I looked hard before I decided it was a man.  It was too dark to make out his features, almost too dark to discern outline, but by the bigness of the blot he made against his background I was sure the man was Newman.  What he was doing in such a position I could not guess, but I was so sure of my man, I did not hesitate to move towards him.  I even spoke his name, in an urgent whisper.

My hiss brought a prompt response, but not the one for which I was looking.  To my surprise the fellow ran away from me; he slipped across the deck (padding noiselessly, for he was barefoot, like, myself) and, bending nearly double, scurried for’ard beside the weather rail.

I stared after him, undecided what to do.  The man looked like Newman, but he did not act like him.  I had half a mind to pursue his flitting figure.

Then all at once I discovered I must take cover myself.  I heard the mate’s voice, up on the poop; he was hailing his tradesmen.

“We’ll take a whirl for’ard,” says he.  “I’ll give the bums a sweat at the braces so they won’t think I’m asleep.”

I had moved away from the shadow of the round-house, and was revealed, as I stood, to any eye looking over the poop rail.  I was in a ticklish position altogether.  If braces were to be tightened, the lee of the roundhouse would be a poor hiding-place for me.  In fact it would be no hiding-place at all.  But get out of sight I must, and quickly, or suffer the unpleasant consequences of discovery.

I heard boots clumping on the poop deck.  There wasn’t time for me to escape forward.  So I darted aft and flattened myself against the cabin wall, in exactly the same position, and in very nearly the same spot, as that occupied by the fellow I had scared away.  I was not a second too soon.  Sails and Chips came down the port ladder, and paused on the main deck, almost within arm’s reach of me, waiting for the mate to join them.

If they had glanced in my direction they must have seen me.  But they were looking forward, and were also occupied with talk.

Said Chips, “But what’s the game?  He’s working up trouble, that’s plain.  But what’s he after this time?”

Said Sails, “He’s after that fellow in the Greaser’s watch, or I’m a damn bad guesser.  But, his game—­well, ask me something easy.  Did you ever know anybody to fathom his game?”