"Lay that there cable so that she tangles herself up first time she
turns. That's one."
Fitz coughed again slightly.
"You will run the boat up in silence, the men will hold on, while you
and Chips make fast the end to one of the fans, and then let the cable
glide out into the water as we pass round to the bows. It must all be
done without a sound. All the rope must be run out, to sink, and then I
propose that you hold on again under the starboard anchor."
"Suppose starboard anchor's down?" growled the boatswain.
"Pass the boat round to the port; either will do; but if we are seen or
heard, all is over."
"Won't be seen," growled the boatswain. "It's black enough to puzzle a
cat."
"Very well, then--heard," continued Fitz.
"Right, sir. What next?"
"There are no more orders. You will hold on while Mr Poole and I get
aboard. We shall do the rest."
"Hah!" sighed the boatswain; and like an echo came a similar sound from
the carpenter.
Then _pat, pat, pat_ came the kissing of the water against the bows of
the gig, and the sides of the ravine seemed as weird and strange as
ever, while the darkness if anything grew more profound.
At this point, with the boat gliding swiftly down stream, Poole leaned
sideways to run his hand down Fitz's sleeve, feel for his hand, and give
it a warm pressure, which was returned.
Then they went on round bend after bend, the current keeping them pretty
well in the centre, till at last the final curve was reached, the starry
band overhead seemed to have suddenly grown wider and the air less
oppressive, both hints that they were getting out to sea, and that the
time for the performance of the daring enterprise was close at hand.
Most fortunately the sea did not "brime," as the West-countrymen say,
when the very meshes of their nets turn into threads of gold through the
presence of the myriad phosphorescent creatures that swarm so thickly at
times that the surface of the sea looks as if it could be skimmed to
clear it of so much lambent liquid gold.
This was what was wanted, for with a phosphorescent sea, every dip of
the oar, every wavelet which broke against the boat, would have served
as signal to warn the watch on board the gunboat that enemies were near.
But unfortunately, on the other hand, there was the darkness profound,
and not the scintillation of a riding light to show where the gunboat
lay. They knew that she was about two miles from shore, and as nearly
as could be made out just at the mouth of the channel along which the
_Teal_ had been piloted to enable her to reach the sanctuary in which
she lay.
But where was she now? The answer did not come to the watchers who with
straining eyes strove to make out the long, low, dark hull, the one
mast, and the dwarfed and massive funnel, but strove in vain.
Fitz's heart sank, for the successful issue of his exploit seemed to be
fading away, and minute by minute it grew more evident that there was
not the slightest likelihood of their discovering the object of their
search; so that in a voice tinged by the despair he felt, he whispered
his orders to the boatswain to tell the men to cease rowing.
Then for what seemed to be quite a long space of time, they lay rising
and falling upon the heaving sea, listening, straining their eyes, but
all in vain; and at last, warned by the feeling that unless something
was done they were bound to lose touch of their position when they
wanted to make back for the mouth of the little river, Fitz whispered an
order to the boatswain to keep the gig's head straight off shore, and
then turned to lay his hand on Poole's shoulder and, with his lips close
to his ear, whisper--
"What's to be done?"
"Don't know," came back. "This is a regular floorer."
The boy's heart sank lower still at this, but feeling that he was in
command, he made an effort to pull himself together.
"In the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail," seemed
to begin ringing as if at a great distance into his ears, and he rose up
in his place, steadied himself by a hand on his companion's shoulder,
and slowly swept the horizon; that is to say, the lower portion of the
sky, to which the stars did not descend.
In vain!
There was no sign of gunboat funnel, nothing to help them in the least,
and coming to the conclusion that their only chance of finding her was
by quartering the sea as a sporting dog does a field, and at the same
time telling himself that the task was hopeless, he bent down to try if
he could get a hint from the boatswain, when he muttered to himself the
words that had now ceased to ring, and his heart gave quite a jump. For
apparently about a hundred yards away there appeared a faint speck of
light which burned brightly for a few moments before with a sudden dart
it described a curve, descending towards the level of the sea; and then
all was black again.
For a moment or two the darkness upon the sea seemed to lie there
thicker and heavier than ever, till, faint, so dim that it was hardly
visible, the lad was conscious of a tiny light which brightened
slightly, grew dim, brightened again, and then the boatswain uttered a
low "Hah!" and Chips sniffed softly, this time for a reason, for he was
inhaling the aroma of a cigar, borne towards them upon the soft damp
night air.
The lads joined hands again, and in the warm pressure a thrill of
exultation seemed to run from their fingers right up their arms and into
their breasts, to set their hearts pumping with a heavy throb.
Neither dared venture upon a whisper to inform his comrade of that which
he already knew--that some one on board the gunboat was smoking,
probably the officer of the watch, and that they must wait in the hope
that he might go below after a look round, when there was still a
possibility that the crew might sleep, or at least be sufficiently lax
in their duty to enable the adventurers to carry out their plans. They
could do nothing else, only wait; but as they waited, with Fitz still
grasping his companion's hand, they both became conscious of the fact
that by slow degrees the glowing end of that cigar grew brighter; and
the reason became patent--that the current running outward from the
river, even at that distance from the shore, was bearing them almost
imperceptibly nearer to where the gunboat lay.
The idea was quite right, for fortune was after all favouring them, more
than they dared to have hoped. All at once, as they were watching the
glowing light, whose power rose and fell, those on board the gig were
conscious of a slight jerk, accompanied by a grating sound. This was
followed by a faint rustle from the fore part of the boat. What caused
this, for a few moments no one in the after part could tell.
They knew that they had run upon something, and by degrees Fitz worked
out the mental problem in his mind, as with his heart beating fast he
watched the glowing light, in expectation of some sign that the smoker
had heard the sound as well.
But he still smoked on, and nothing happened to the boat, which had
careened over at first and threatened to capsize, but only resumed her
level trim and completely reversed her position, head taking the place
of stern, so that to continue to watch the light the middy had to wrench
himself completely round; and then he grasped the fact that the current
had carried them right on to the anchor-chain where it dipped beneath
the surface, before bearing them onward, still to swing at ease.
The man who acted as coxswain--the Camel to wit--having leaned over,
grasped the chain-cable and almost without a sound made fast the painter
to one of the links.