The ship "Faithful" smoothly departed from the pier, heading north with valuable cargo — barrels of rare linseed oil and toolboxes for the port workshops. Captain Gordon, having given the last orders before going out to sea, retired to his cabin, leaving the watch to vigilantly monitor the course.

By evening, the main fuss on deck had subsided. The sailors, having completed their duties, were preparing for bed, someone was talking quietly in the smoking room, someone was already relaxing in hammocks. A peaceful silence reigned on the ship, broken only by the creaking of wood and the measured lapping of waves against the side.

Phil, who needed a spare cable to fix the broken block, went down to the cargo hold. The air there was thick and stale, smelling of wood, oil, and metal. By the light of his flashlight, he made his way between the crates and barrels, looking for the right roll.

Suddenly, he froze when he heard a restrained rustle. The sound was barely perceptible, but clearly alien in this realm of inanimate goods. It came from behind a stack of empty coffee sacks in the very corner of the hold.

Phil became alert, put down the flashlight and moved silently, as he had been taught, to investigate. Peering behind the bags, he gasped. An unknown girl was sitting in a cramped space, her back pressed against a solid board. She tried to wrap herself in a dark cloak to become invisible in the shadows. Her presence here, on a ship that had gone to sea, was a complete surprise and a gross violation of all rules. She had obviously sneaked in here. He looked at her in complete disbelief, trying to find the words.