His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bosun’s whistle and the cessation of the thumping noise of the engine. Worse followed, with the unmistakable sound of the anchor chain being run out. They were stopping, but why? The thought came to him that perhaps the authorities had ordered that all ships leaving port should be searched in case he was on board; but surely, he told himself, they would not go to such lengths for one runaway boy.

There was a gentle thud as something came into contact with the side of the ship. Curiosity impelled him to raise his head and peer over the gunwale. A tug was tying up alongside and a ladder had been lowered from the deck of the ship.

As Gus watched, several men climbed it and swung themselves over the rail, where they were greeted by a man whom he took to be the captain. Passengers, presumably, but if so why had they not boarded while the ship was in dock? They were all in civilian dress, but there was something about the way they tackled the rope ladder that made him think they were all used to shipboard life. He lay back, pondering. Down in the hold there was at least one crate containing cannons. The ship had been loaded with great secrecy, in semi-darkness, and now there were these strangers who had boarded in that unconventional manner. With a quiver of excitement at the pit of his stomach he concluded that he had chosen to stow away on a vessel bound for some clandestine adventure.