But Copplestone gave
no more than a passing glance at it--what attracted and fascinated his
eyes was the face of a man who had come up from her depths and was
looking out of a hatchway on the top deck--looking expectantly at the
sail-loft. There was grime and oil on that face, and the neck which
supported the unkempt head rose out of a rough jersey, but Copplestone
recognized his man smartly enough. In spite of the attempt to look like a
tug deck-hand there was no mistaking the skipper of the _Pike_.
"Good heavens!" he muttered, as he stared across the crowded quay.
"Andrius!"
"Right you are, guv'nor," whispered Spurge. "It's that very same, and no
mistake! And now you'll perhaps see how I put things together, like. No
doubt those folk as sent Sir Cresswell that message did see the _Pike_
going east last evening--just so, but there wasn't no reason, considering
what that chap and his lot had at stake why they shouldn't put him and
one or two more, very likely, on one of the many tugs that's to be met
with out there off the fishing grounds. What I conclude they did,
guv'nor, was to charter one o' them tugs and run her in here. And I
expect they've got the stuff on board her, now, and when the tide comes
up, out they'll go, and be off into the free and open again, to pick the
_Pike_ up somewhere 'twixt here and the Dogger Bank.
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