And above
all the incidental noises of a ship's hold was one that I could not
place--a regular knocking, which kept time with the list of the boat.
I located it at last, approximately, at one of the ballast ports,
but there was nothing to be seen. The port had been carefully barred
and calked over. The sound was not loud. Down there among the other
noises, I seemed to feel as well as hear it. I sent Burns down, and
he came up, puzzled.
"It's outside," he said. "Something cracking against her ribs."
"You didn't notice it yesterday, did you?"
"No; but yesterday we were not listening for noises."
The knocking was on the port side. We went forward together, and,
leaning well out, looked over the rail.
The missing marlinespike was swinging there, banging against the
hull with every roll of the ship. It was fastened by a rope
lanyard to a large bolt below the rail, and fastened with what
Burns called a Blackwall hitch--a sailor's knot.
CHAPTER XVI
JONES STUMBLES OVER SOMETHING
I find, from my journal, that the next seven days passed without
marked incident. Several times during that period we sighted vessels,
all outward bound, and once we were within communicating distance of
a steam cargo boat on her way to Venezuela. She lay to and sent her
first mate over to see what could be done.
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