This was a task I approached with dread.  Even now some slight slip of tongue, or action, could easily ruin everything accomplished, yet I durst not omit the precaution, lest the missing key awaken suspicion and lead to immediate pursuit.  Here, again, fortune played strangely into my hands, as I discovered the officer dozing in his chair, and, stepping softly, so as not to arouse him, I gladly handed that important bit of iron over to the care of one of the guard, himself too drowsy from potations to trouble me with questioning.  Relieved of this duty, my heart filled with gratitude for all the mercies of the night, I betook myself up the ladder unmolested, and a moment later stood in comparative freedom upon the open deck.

I could scent the coming dawn in the fresh morning air the moment I arose through the hatch opening, yet there was no sign of it in the sky; indeed I felt there must be fog in the atmosphere, it rendered it so thick, although not sufficiently heavy to drip in moisture.  It required only a moment to locate all life present along the forward deck, and I became convinced few wakeful eyes remained among them at this sleepiest of all hours of the night.  Trusting to this, as well as the garb I wore for concealment, I walked boldly back as far as the mainmast, meeting no one.  Then, fearful of observation from the officer still pacing the poop, I skulked stealthily along in the black shadow of the cook’s galley, until I reached the cuddy door, quaking with fear lest it fail me.  It opened instantly to the touch of the hand, and with heart throbbing wildly, for now all that had been accomplished hung in the balance of this last experiment, I groped about within seeking to solve the mystery of that gloomy interior.  The place had the feel of a big, square box; by stretching out across the edge I could barely reach the farther side, but could touch no bottom, nor did I feel the rungs of any ladder leading down.  It resembled a well, and the thought immediately took possession of me that the crew hauled up their provisions by use of ropes, yet I could discover no hoisting apparatus of any kind.  With head projected far below the deck level I ventured a soft whisper into the darkness: 

“Are you there, Chevalier?”

There was a slight movement beneath, as if he drew closer to where I was.

“Yes, it is all right,” he returned, his voice so modulated as to be barely audible.  “But I discover nothing in this darkness to aid in reaching the deck.  Know you where a rope can be secured?”

“Ay; lie quiet until I return.”

It was a bit ticklish, yet required doing.  A trip to the foremast put in my possession quite a section of line sliced from off the rope’s end previously left dangling from the upper yard.  Incidentally as I passed back and forth I revisited Father Cassati, still resting easily in his bonds, but now peacefully sleeping off his earlier potations undiscovered upon the hard deck.  Returning with my treasure, I payed it out into the intense blackness of the cuddy hole, and anxiously awaited developments below.