Prisoners of Chance

It appeared true even to me, now that he had pointed out the spot.

"It must be the roof hatch uplifted. Now if we discover a ladder leading thereto I shall accept it as proof that God guideth us this night, and feel new courage."

"Our work is of God," said the père solemnly, "or I should never be here with you, and engaged upon it."

"Nor have I ever doubted it, father," I made haste to answer, creeping cautiously forward across the ill-matched flooring. "Yet you have been a luckier man than I if never you found yourself in the wrong when you believed it to be right."

There was a ladder there spliced with bits of rope, as we discovered, yet proving of sufficient strength to up-bear us one at a time. Thus we were soon out upon the great flat roof, lying prone at the edge, whither we had crept silently, peering cautiously forth upon the black river. That is, we gazed into the silent mystery where we knew the river must be, yet it was like peering into an impenetrable bank of cloud. There was something awesome about it, for out yonder, within a few yards of us, swung twenty great vessels of war, manned by thousands of fighting men, while not a sound reached us, except the slight creaking of strained cables, or the occasional dash of a wave against some obstruction in the stream; nor could anything be seen, if I except flitting sparks of light glimmering here and there like lost stars, serving to locate the positions of the various ships in their night anchorage.

I felt, rather than saw, the devout priest at my side piously cross himself, and there was a mumbling of his lips in prayer, but I contented myself with searching through the gloom for a glimpse of the towering masts of the "Santa Maria," which must be close at hand. They remained invisible, shrouded behind the mist cloud. For one moment I cursed the intense blackness of the night, losing confidence in our venture. Yet, even as hope failed me, the dull creaking of a nearby cable sounded farther up stream. Guided by this I crept cautiously along the edge of the roof, aware as I proceeded that Father Petreni, imitating my example, pressed closely behind.

Near the northern extremity of the long building we came to a halt, and, leaning well over the roof edge, I peered anxiously into the enveloping fog. A deeper density of shadow showed directly in front, which I felt convinced could be caused only by one of those vast spars around which canvas had been rolled, as noted that afternoon from the ship's deck. Vainly endeavoring to pierce the thick mist, I distinguished the steady tramping of some one pacing far beneath us. The sound came from farther out in the stream, where I might reasonably suppose the stern of the vessel to lie. I drew back, and placed my lips close to the priest's ear.