But that was not so easy, for it proved to be below decks; but he saw a light glimmering through a small scuttle abaft the mate's cabin, and the sounds were in the neighborhood of that light.
It now flashed upon Mr.Hazel that this was the very quarter where he had heard that mysterious knocking when the ship was lying to in the gale.
Upon this a certain degree of vague suspicion began to mingle with his curiosity.
He stood still a moment, listening acutely; then took off his shoes very quietly, and moved with noiseless foot toward the scuttle.
The gnawing still continued.
He put his head through the scuttle, and peered into a dark, dismal place, whose very existence was new to him.

It was, in fact, a vacant space between the cargo and the ship's run.

This wooden cavern was very narrow, but not less than fifteen feet long.

The candle was at the further end, and between it and Hazel a man was working, with his flank turned toward the spectator.

This partly intercepted the light; but still it revealed in a fitful way the huge ribs of the ship, and her inner skin, that formed the right-hand partition, so to speak, of this black cavern; and close outside those gaunt timbers was heard the wash of the sea.
There was something solemn in the close proximity of that tremendous element and the narrowness of the wooden barrier.
The bare place, and the gentle, monotonous wash of the liquid monster, on that calm night, conveyed to Mr.Hazel's mind a thought akin to David's.
"As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between me and death." Judge whether that thought grew weaker or stronger, when, after straining his eyes for some time, to understand what was going on at that midnight hour, in that hidden place, he saw who was the workman and what was his occupation.
It was Joseph Wylie, the mate.