I felt, rather than saw, the devout priest at my side piously cross himself, and there was a mumbling of his lips in prayer, but I contented myself with searching through the gloom for a glimpse of the towering masts of the “Santa Maria,” which must be close at hand.  They remained invisible, shrouded behind the mist cloud.  For one moment I cursed the intense blackness of the night, losing confidence in our venture.  Yet, even as hope failed me, the dull creaking of a nearby cable sounded farther up stream.  Guided by this I crept cautiously along the edge of the roof, aware as I proceeded that Father Petreni, imitating my example, pressed closely behind.

Near the northern extremity of the long building we came to a halt, and, leaning well over the roof edge, I peered anxiously into the enveloping fog.  A deeper density of shadow showed directly in front, which I felt convinced could be caused only by one of those vast spars around which canvas had been rolled, as noted that afternoon from the ship’s deck.  Vainly endeavoring to pierce the thick mist, I distinguished the steady tramping of some one pacing far beneath us.  The sound came from farther out in the stream, where I might reasonably suppose the stern of the vessel to lie.  I drew back, and placed my lips close to the priest’s ear.

“Can you distinguish any outline yonder?” I queried eagerly, pointing as I spoke, and feeling fearful lest my eyes had been deceived by fleeting night shadows.

Resting upon his breast, one hand shading his eyes, he peered long in the direction indicated before venturing to reply.

“There is a shade of something yonder,” he admitted at last.  “It rises a trifle above us, and almost directly out from this edge.  ’T is hard to say of what it consists, yet ’tis of a peculiar shape, causing me to think of the foreyard of a big ship.”

“Exactly what I name it,” I replied, set at ease by his prompt decision.  “How far would you suppose the thing to lie from where we are?”

He studied the barely visible object long and carefully, shading his eyes again with his hands the better to concentrate his gaze upon that misty blot.

“It is like a jump in the dark, my son, to attempt guessing at so visionary a thing.  At times it seemeth to fade away altogether, yet back it cometh once more into the same spot; from where I lie it might be twenty, or it might be forty, feet.”

“Saint Giles! not so bad a guess either.  I figured it at thirty this afternoon from the bank below, nor am I apt to prove far wrong in such judgment.  Truss up this confounded skirt of mine, while I uncoil the rope for a toss.”

He opened his eyes wide in amazement.

“Do you hope to cast the loop over the end of the spar?”

“Ay, that offers the only opening to get aboard unobserved,” I replied, loosening as I spoke the slender rope coil from about my waist.  “Nor would it be any trick if the light were a trifle better.  As it is, I may miss a throw or two in getting firm hold.  It would prove risky business attempting to pass across a line insecure at one end.  Lie down now, pere, and keep as quiet as if you were dead.”