ng of the
proprietor the whereabouts of the slipway where Leyden's schooner was,
swung off in the given direction. Past wharves and warehouses he strode,
throwing back his wide shoulders and inhaling great drafts of spicy
ozone as he found himself once again among shipping, in the atmosphere
that was meat and drink to him.

At the northern extremity of the water front the craft in port dwindled
from steamers and deep-water square-riggers to "country" ships,
schooners, junks, and other small fry; and among the forest of masts his
experienced eye picked out two spars, straighter and more shipshape than
the rest, which guided him unerringly to the _Padang_.

Blocked up on a tidewater slipway, every detail of the vessel was
visible, even to the last fathom of oakum now being hammered into her
port garboard seam. White painted and trim, she spelled speed and
weatherliness in every line, and a note of admiration escaped Barry as
he regarded her clean underbody from a safe distance. A trickle of water
was already creeping up towards her stern; the rudder would be wet again
within an hour.

From the vantage point of a huge pair of sheer-legs Barry reconnoitered.
He saw the last muddy toiler crawl from beneath the keel and scramble
ashore. It was getting rapidly dusk as the sun dipped, and a lone figure
high up on deck went around placing lanterns in readiness for working
the schooner off when the tide served. Besides the solitary watchman,
not a soul was visible. Barry stepped out cautiously and hastened down
to the floor of the slip.

One of Jack Barry's most cherished possessions was a weird Yankee
contraption that cost him heavily in the shape of worn pockets. Its
maker named it a knife; as a matter of fact, the knife part was
worthless; but snugly and cunningly fitted into the stout buckhorn
handle was a serviceable file, a hacksaw, and a marlinespike.

In the brief time before the slipway employees and the schooner's crew
returned from their supper, Barry worked swiftly and silently. He ripped
out fathom after fathom of fresh caulking in the garboards, making
assurance doubly sure, by thrusting his knife-blade clear through the
seam in a dozen places. The anchor, hanging at the cathead ready to let
go when the schooner floated in the harbor, he loosely connected with
one of the chain-plates by a length of small wire rope, so that, when
let go, it would hang a few feet under water and the schooner must
drift, possibly