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[Idriess, Ion L., 1937, Forty Fathoms Deep, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, Chapter 4]
...
Immediately Pablo was wide awake, eyes and ears alert towards the cabin scuttle before him. He heard Toledo turning into bunk; heard him humming to himself; saw the cabin darken as he turned low the hurricane lamp. Presently there was silence except for the snores of the master down there below, the gurgle of water from the bows, the faint creaking of cordage.
Even after Toledo's regular breathing joined the murmurings of the night Pablo was patient for another hour. Then he lashed the tiller and stepped softly as a breath past the scuttle, past the hatch, and on up forrard. As he knelt by the coiled rope his eyes gleamed. He searched along and around the strands that formed the topmost coil. Carefully he lifted that coil and examined the coil beneath until he espied a tell-tale end of thread. A wolfish grin spread from ear to ear. No man would ever have found that end of cotton had he not known where to look for-something!
With a tigerish glance aft he bent over the rope. He thumbed the cotton end to the strand, then bent and gripped the strand with his teeth, gently levering it back, his eyes following the cotton down. He inserted stubby fingers between the strands and gently but strongly pushed and pulled them one apart from the other. The gleam of pearl was reflected in his eyes, the breath hissed from between his teeth. He pulled with hands and jaw, his face wolfish as his brown fingers squeezed down for the pearl. Carefully he allowed the strands to relax back into place while holding the cotton exactly as it was. Slipping the pearl into his mouth he darted back to the tiller.
...