A steady stream of wagons was arriving, carrying supplies or cargo to be loaded. Each one was stopped by a guard, who checked the driver’s papers before allowing it through. It seemed odd to Gus that this should be happening so early, before it was properly light, and the careful checking added to the impression that something secret was in hand. What that might be did not concern him. If he could only get on board and be at sea before he was caught, he did not care what the purpose of the voyage might be; but what did worry him was the fact that these precautions made it hard, if not impossible, for him to get anywhere near the ship.

He watched as, one after another, the wagons rolled up and halted in front of the gates. If only he could get into one of them and hide he would have a chance. He had almost given up hope and decided to try his luck elsewhere when a possibility offered itself. The contents of most of the wagons were concealed under tarpaulins, which were tightly fastened to the sides, but on one he saw that at the rear the cover had come loose, exposing the back of a crate, which had a splintered hole in it. It looked as though whatever was in the crate had shifted and broken through, though he could not see what had done the damage. What excited him was the thought that the hole was just about big enough for him to crawl into. Each wagon was kept stationary while the papers were checked, and by chance this one seemed to be the last in the line, so there was no one to see him as he slipped out from his hiding place and ran to the back of it.

He caught hold of the tailboard and struggled under the tarpaulin. The jagged edges of the hole in the crate caught at his clothes and a splinter dug itself into his thigh, but he forced his way through and found himself in a small space between two large objects. It was almost dark inside the crate, except for a faint glimmer that came through the hole, but after a few moments his eyes adapted themselves and he made out their shapes. It took a moment to understand what he was seeing, but then he caught his breath in mingled shock and excitement. He was crouched between the barrels of two big guns. They rested on wooden cradles and were roped in place. Someone must have spotted the damage and fastened them more securely, but had apparently not been able to repair the crate, or had not had time to do so.