CHAPTER XXVII
THE FLIGHT
They crept across the deck, hand in hand, to where the shadowy outlines of one of the life-boats blocked their path. They slipped in under the bow of this life-boat, groping their way to the davit, where the ship's rail ended. Before them was a drop of six feet, from the ship's deck to the string-piece of the pier, against which the rusty side-plates were creaking and groaning.
McKinnon made a sudden motion for the girl to wait, for dark figures were moving about on the pier below. She could make out the gloomy mass of the weigh-scales shed, its oxid-red paint leaving it black by night. She could see that the west door of the shed was open, and that a figure stood just inside this door, holding a lantern. She knew it was the officer, for she could see the light glimmer on the sword-scabbard that moved back and forth with every movement of his body. She could see, too, that
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