ing and banging noise, which came through the
bulkhead.

"Why, they're taking up the hatches over the hold."

"Yes," said Vince bitterly; "they're thinking more of saving the bales
than of us."

"Down vis you, and pass 'em up," cried the captain; and, for what seemed
to be quite a couple of hours, they could hear the crew through the
bulkhead busy in the hold fetching out and passing up the bales on to
the deck in the most orderly way, and without a bit of excitement.

"Can't be much danger," said Vince at last, "or they wouldn't go on so
quietly as this."

"I don't know," said Mike bitterly; "it must be bad, and they will
forget us at last, and we shall be drowned, shut up here."

"Don't make much difference," said Vince, with a laugh. "Better off
here. Fishes won't be able to get at us and eat us afterwards."

"Ugh! how can you talk in that horrid way at a time like this!"

"To keep up our spirits," said Vince. "Perhaps it isn't so bad. She's
on a bank, I'm sure, and perhaps--yes, that's it--they're trying to
lighten her and make her float."

"They're not," said Mike excitedly. "Why, they're bringing other things
down. 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. They knew that the
loading was going on--nothing more.

"Well, we are clever ones," said