ad long since gone to their homes, since
there was no work for them at the dock after Houten's small parcel of
trade goods had gone up to the post, and the two vessels lay as quiet
and peaceful as if in some humdrum port of concrete wharves and steam
cranes. But now, as if to answer the doubts of the brigantine's people,
a gangway light shone out on the schooner, and another, dimmer and
partly obscured, sent yellow rays from the half-open galley door.

"Somebody there, anyway," muttered Rolfe, and satisfied once more that
vigilance was necessary, if not quite as vital as before, he split the
men into watches, sent one half to sleep, and partook of a final pipe
with the old navy man before turning in himself.

And as the still, dark night enveloped them, and the river chill struck
up, they made themselves more comfortable in the shelter of the
deckhouse, one dozing on the lounge while the other remained awake, both
ready for an instant call.

It was the same black, opaque night as Barry and his crew spent up the
river, waiting for the moon; and the mysterious night noises from the
shore were lulling and drowsy. Gradually the schooner blurred into a
vague mass of shadow, out of which the two lights twinkled uncertainly.
And mingling with the chirp of insects and the fitful cries of dreaming
monkeys came a gnawing and rasping of wood that seemed to echo
throughout the silent _Barang_.

"What's that?" growled Blunt, sitting up and listening.

"Rats," returned Rolfe sleepily. "Th' darned old wagon's alive with
'em."

"Them's proper rats, I bet," rejoined Bill, snugging down again. "Reglar
bandicoots, sounds like."

Silence again descended upon the brigantine, and darkness broken only by
the paling lights on the schooner and the red glow of the mate's pipe.
Then out of the quiet came the sharp twang of a hawser, and the
brigantine shivered. Both watchers started up and ran to the side,
striving to penetrate the blackness. The lines ran down to their proper
bollards, as usual, and the river sluiced swiftly alongside, swirling
musically between the rotten piles of the ramshackle wharf.

"Some current!" grumbled the mate, testing a line with his full weight
thrown on one foot. "Better give her a bit more on all the lines, Blunt.
Not much. Couple of feet or so. Seems as if the river rises at night.
Hill water, I expect."

The lines were surged and made fast again, and the _Barang's_ people
resumed their silent vigil. B