"But wouldn't it be very risky work lying waiting while they tried to clear the screw? You know what tremendous currents there are running along the coast."

"But they wouldn't affect a craft lying at anchor, my lad," growled the mate.

"No," said Poole excitedly; "but I should expect to foul the screw just when they had given orders to up with the anchor to come in chase of us or to resist attack."

"And how would you do it, my lad?" said the skipper.

"Well, father, I was thinking--But I don't profess for a moment that it would succeed."

"Let's have what you thought, and don't talk so much," cried the skipper. "How could you foul the screw?"

"Well, the dinghy wouldn't do, father; it would be too small. We should have to go in the gig, with four men to row. I should like to take the big coil of Manilla cable aboard, with one end loose and handy, and a good rope ready. Then I should get astern and make the end fast to one of the fans of the screw, and give the cable a hitch round as well so as to give a good hold with the loop before we lowered it overboard to sink."

"Good," said Burgess. "Capital! And then if the fans didn't cut it when they began to revolve, they'd wind the whole of that cable round and round, and most likely regularly foul the screw badly before they found out what was wrong."

"Yes," said the skipper quietly. "The idea is excellent if it answered, but means the loss of a good new cable that I can't spare if things went wrong; and that's what they'd be pretty sure to do."

Poole drew a deep breath, and his face grew cloudy.

"The idea is too good, my lad. It is asking too much of luck, and we couldn't expect two such plans to succeed. What do you say, Burgess?"

"Same as you do," said the mate roughly. "But if we got one of our shots to go off right we ought to be satisfied, and if it was me I should have a try at both."

"Yes," said the skipper, "and we will. But it seems to me, Burgess, that you and I are going to be out of it all."

"Oh yes. They've planned it; let 'em do it, I say."

"Yes," said the skipper; "they shall. But look here, do you lads propose to do all this in one visit to the gunboat?"

"Poole's idea, sir, is all fresh to me," cried Fitz. "I knew nothing of it till he began to speak, but it seems to me that it must all be done in one visit. They'd never give us a chance to go twice."

"No," said the mate laconically, and as he uttered the word he shut his teeth with a snap.

"When's it to be, then?"

"To-night, sir," said Fitz, "while it's all red-hot."

"Yes, father; it ought to be done to-night. It's not likely to be darker than it is just now."

"Very well," said the skipper; "then I give you both authority to make your plans before night. But the dinghy is out of the question. With the current running off the coast here you'd never get back in that.

You must take the gig, and five men. Pick out who you like, Poole: the men you would rather trust. You'd better let him choose, Mr Burnett; he knows the men so much better than you, and besides, it would be better that they should be under his orders than under yours. There, I have no more to say, except this--whether they succeed or not, your plans are both excellent; but you cannot expect to do anything by force.

This is a case for scheme and cunning. Under the darkness it may be done. What I should like best would be for you to get that breech-block overboard. If you can do the other too, so much the better, but I shall be perfectly satisfied if you can do one, and get back safely into the river. There, Poole; make what arrangements you like. I shall not interfere in the least."

"Nor I," said the mate. "Good luck to you both! But I shouldn't worry much about preparing for a fight. What you have got to do is to act, cut, and run."

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

'CAUSE WHY.

"Now we know," said Poole joyously, as they left the cabin and went forward to their old place to discuss their plans: "what we have got to do is to cut and run. Come on; let's go and sit on the bowsprit again.

It will soon be dinner-time. I wonder what the Camel has got?"

"Oh, don't talk about eating now," cried Fitz, as they reached the big spar, upon which he scrambled out, to sit swinging his legs, and closely followed by Poole. "What's the first thing?"

"Who's to man the gig," said Poole; "and I've got to pick the crew."

"I should like to pick one," cried Fitz.

"All right, go on; only don't choose the Camel, nor Bob Jackson."

"No, no; neither of them," cried Fitz. "I say, we ought to have old b.u.t.ters."

"One," said Poole sharply. "Now it's my turn; Chips."

"Yes, I should like to have him," cried the middy. "But I don't know,"

he continued seriously. "He's a splendid fellow, and so handy; but he might want to turn it all into a lark."

"Not he," cried Poole. "He likes his bit of fun sometimes, but for a good man and true to have at my back in a job like this, he's the pick of the whole crew."

"Chips it is, then," said Fitz. "That's two."

"d.i.c.k Boulter, then."

"Three!" cried Fitz.

"Harry Smith."

"Four," said Fitz.

"Four, four, four, four," said Poole thoughtfully. "Who shall we have for number five? Here, we'll have the Camel, after all."

"Oh," cried Fitz; "there'll be nothing to cook."

"Yes, there will; the big gun and the propeller. He's cook, of course, but he's nearly as good a seaman as there is on board the schooner, and he'll row all right and never utter a word. There, we've got a splendid boat's crew, and I vote we go and tell father what we've done."

"I wouldn't," said Fitz. "It'll make him think that we hadn't confidence in ourselves. Unless he asks us, I wouldn't say a word."

"You are right," said Poole; "right as right. Now then, what's next? I know: we'll go and make the lads get up the Manilla rope and lay it down again in rings as close as they'll go."

"On the deck here?" said Fitz.

"No, no; right along the bottom of the gig. And we must have her lowered down first with two men in her, ready to coil the cable as the others pa.s.s it down. Now then, let's get inboard again and find old b.u.t.ters."

"But he'll be wanting to know what we want with that rope."

"Sure to," said Poole; "but he'll have to wait. Oh, here he comes.

Here, bosun!" he cried. "I want you to get up that new Manilla cable, lower down the gig, and coil it in the bottom so that it will take up as little room as possible, and not be in the men's way."