Got your anchor ready, Han?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"All right. Don't let your windlass rattle. Keep quiet, fellows."
Suddenly all the lights on deck save that in the binnacle went out,
leaving the boat in darkness. Nearby the red flash of the lighthouse
glowed periodically, while, ahead, shone the white beacon. In silence
the _Adventurer_ drew nearer and nearer to the latter, put it abeam and
then swung to starboard. "Let her go, Han," called Steve softly. Those
on the bridge deck heard the faint splash of the hundred-pound navy
anchor as it struck the water. Han crept back and swung himself down to
the bridge.
"All fast, sir," he reported.
Somewhere in the darkness at the head of the harbour, where tiny
pin-pricks of light twinkled, a town clock struck two.
CHAPTER XII
WHAT STEVE SAW
Waiting was weary work after that. It was two hours and a half to
sunrise and, since two of their number were sufficient to keep watch,
the others presently went below and napped. Steve and Bert Alley
remained on deck. Steve, although he perhaps needed sleep more than
anyone, refused to trust other eyes than his own, and while darkness
lasted he watched the white path cast across the water by the
_Adventurer's_ searchlight.
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