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Nostromo : A Tale of the Seaboard see each other. Even the lighter's sail, which remained set, was invisible. Very often they rested.

"Caramba!" said Nostromo, suddenly, during one of those intervals when they lolled idly against the heavy handles of the sweeps. "What is it? Are you distressed, Don Martin?"

Decoud assured him that he was not distressed in the least. Nostromo for a time kept perfectly still, and then in a whisper invited Martin to come aft.

With his lips touching Decoud's ear, he declared his belief that there was somebody else besides themselves upon the lighter. Twice now he had heard the sound of stifled sobbing. "Señor," he whispered, with awed wonder, " I am certain that there is somebody weeping on this lighter."

Decoud had heard nothing. He expressed his incredulity. However, it was easy to ascertain the truth of the matter.

"It is most amazing!" muttered Nostromo. "Could anybody have concealed himself on board while the lighter was lying alongside the wharf?"

"And you say it was like sobbing?" asked Decoud, lowering his voice, too. " If he is weeping, whoever he is, he cannot be very dangerous."

Clambering over the precious pile in the middle, they crouched low on the fore side of the mast and groped under the half-deck. Right forward, in the narrowest part, their hands came upon the limbs of a man who remained as silent as death. Too startled themselves to make a sound, they dragged him aft by one arm and the collar of his coat. He was limp, lifeless.

The light of the bit of candle fell upon a round, hook-