ear. Anyway," he wound up vaguely, "at Cardiff
there may be pleasure steamers runnin', or something o' the sort."

"Bill, you're an angel!"

"I shipped for a stoker," said Bill.

"But what'll it cost?"

"I don't want ter speak boas'ful, after the tone you took with me this
mornin'"--Bill spoke with scarcely dissembled pride--"but that's where
the cleverness comes in. You see, there ain't no skipper to 'er--
leastways not till ter-morrow. The old man's taken train an' off to
Bristol, to attend a revival meetin', or something o' the sort--bein'
turned pious since 'is wife died, w'ich is about eighteen months ago.
I got that from the mate, when 'e shipped me. The mate's in charge;
with the engineer an' two 'ands. The engineer--'e's a Scotchman--'as as
much whisky inside 'im already as a man can 'old an' keep 'is legs; an'
the 'ole gang'll be goin' ashore again to-night--all but the mate.
The mate 'as to keep moderate sober an' lock 'er out on first 'igh water
ter-morrow for Kingroad, where she'll pick up the old man; and as
natcher'lly 'e'll want _somebody_ sober down in the engine-room, 'e's
got to rely on me. So now you see."

"I think I see," said Tilda slowly. "We're to ship as stowaways."

"You may call it so, though the word don't 'ardly seem to fit. I've
'eard tell of stowaways, but never as I remember of a pair as 'ad the
use of the captain's cabin, and 'im a widower with an extry bunk still
fitted for the deceased. O' course we'll 'ave to smuggle yer away
somewheres before the old man comes aboard. But the mate'll do that
easy. 'E promised me."

"Bill, you _are_ an angel!"

It was, after all, absurdly easy, as Bill had promised; and the easier
by help of the river-fog, which by nine o'clock--the hour agreed upon--
had gathered to a thick grey consistency. If the dock were policed at
this hour, no police, save by the veriest accident, could have detected
the children crouching with 'Dolph behind a breastwork of
paraffin-casks, and waiting for Bill's signal--the first two or three
bars of _The Blue Bells of Scotland_ whistled thrice over.

The signal came. The gang-plank was out, ready for the crew's return;
and at the head of it Bill met the fugitives, with a caution to tread
softly when they reached the deck. The mate was nowhere to be seen.
Bill whispered that he was in his own cabin "holding off the drink,"
whatever that might mean.

He conducted them to the after-companion, where, rep