You listen here." Vince clapped his ear to the bulkhead and listened, and made out plainly enough that for every bale passed up a box seemed to be handed down, and these were being stacked up against the partition which separated them from the hold.
"I say, what does it mean ?" whispered Mike at last.
"I don't know," replied Vince; "but for certain they're bringing in things as well as taking them away.

Then we must be in port, and they're landing and loading up again." "Oh, Cinder! and we can't get ashore and run for it." "No; he's too artful for us this time.

That's why he has locked us up.
Never mind; our turn will come.

He can't always have his eyes open." "Is there any way of getting out ?" "Not now," said Vince thoughtfully; "but we might get one of those boards out ready for another time.

They're wide enough to let us through." The soft creaking and grinding sounds went on, but were attributed to the lugger being close up to some pier or wharf, and the boys stood with their ears close to the bulkhead, trying to pick up a word now and then, as the men who were below, stowing the fresh cargo, went on talking together.
But it was weary work, and led to nothing definite.