lking together in low
whispers, while down below, at the water's edge, rocked a fleet of
fishing boats awaiting their mysterious cargo. One could hear the men
stirring restlessly and shifting sail as they waited for the task to
begin.

Then the word was given in a low, vibrant voice, and they went to work.

"Easy job this, matey," whispered Dollops as he and Cleek advanced upon
the stack of tubings and each started to lift one down. "I ... Gawd's
truf! _ain't_ it 'eavy! Lorlumme! Now, what in blazes--?"

Cleek put up a warning finger, and shouldered the thing. Heavy it
certainly was, though of such fine metal that its weight seemed
incredible. And when one knew that these things carried electric
wiring.... Or _did they_?... Never was made an electric wire that
was as heavy as that.

Cleek carried one of these tubings to the dock's edge, with the aid of
Dollops handed it over into the hands that were outstretched to receive
it, and went back for another one. Back and forth and back and forth they
went, lifting, carrying, delivering, until one boat was loaded, and
another one hove into sight in its place. He watched the first one's slow
progress out across the murky waters for a moment, making a pretense of
mopping his forehead with his handkerchief meanwhile. It was loaded
_below_ the water-mark! It hung so low in the water that it looked a mere
smudge upon the face of it, a ribbon of sail flapping from its slender
mast.

Electrical tubings, eh? Faugh! a pretty story that....

Two boats were filled, three, four.... A fifth came riding up under the
very nose of the last, and settled itself with a rattle of chains and
bumping of sides against the quay. That, too, was loaded to its very
edge, and took its way slowly out beneath their eyes. The sixth took its
place after its fellows.

For a moment or two the sweating men ceased in their work, and stood
wiping their faces or leaning against the dock wall, talking in low
whispers.

Cleek and Dollops stood at the quayside, listening to the water lapping
against the iron girders, and straining their eyes to catch a last
glimpse of the fleet of fishing boats. Of a sudden from out the blackness
others appeared. Old Black Whiskers gave a muttered order, and like a
well-drilled army the men were ready again, this time flocking to the
side of the quay as the boats rode up, and waiting for them,
empty-handed. Cleek turned to the nearest one, and spoke in a low-toned
voice.