Every light went out again, every light except a faint glow as a guide to the first boat at the foot of the landing-ladder. Along this ladder Blake could hear barefooted figures padding and grunting as cases and bales were cautiously carried down and passed from boat to boat.
He swung nervously about as he felt a hand clutch his arm. He found Tankred speaking quietly into his ear.
"There 'll be one boat over," that worthy was explaining. "One boat—you take that—the last one! And you'd better give the guinnney a ten-dollar bill for his trouble!"
"All right! I 'm ready!" was Blake's low-toned reply as he started to move forward with the other man.
"Not yet! Not yet!" was the other's irritable warning, as Blake felt himself pushed back. "You stay where you are! We 've got a half-hour's hard work ahead of us yet!"
As Blake leaned over the rail again, watching and listening, he began to realize that the work was indeed hard, that there was some
