In this spirit he felt the gun again, guiding himself by his hands to its huge b.u.t.t, his fingers coming in contact first with the sight and then with the two ma.s.sive ball-ended levers which turned the great screw.

He could barely see at all, but his finger-tips told him that it was just such a piece as they had on board the _Tonans_, but not so large.

Forgetting Poole for the moment, he pa.s.sed right round to the breech, thrust in his hand, which came in contact with the solid block, and then withdrawing his hand he seized hold of the great b.a.l.l.s, gave them a wrench, and in perfect silence the heavy ma.s.s of forged and polished steel began to turn, the well-oiled grooves and worm gliding together without a sound, and, after the first tug, with the greatest ease.

It was all simple enough till he came to the final part of his task, and attempted to lift out the breech-block, the quoin that when the breech was screwed up held all fast.

He took hold and tried to lift, but tried in vain, for it seemed beyond his strength. His teeth gritted together as he set them fast in his exasperation against Poole for not being at hand to help and make what now seemed an impossibility an easy task.

Perspiring at every pore, he tried again and again, the more eagerly now, for a low growling voice was heard from the direction whence he had crawled.

But the piece of steel was immovable, and in his despair he felt that all was over and that he had failed.

Then came light--not light to make the gun visible, but mental light, with the question, Had he turned the levers far enough?

Uttering a low gasp in his despair, for the growling talk grew louder, he seized the great b.a.l.l.s again, gave them another turn or two, and once more tried to stir the block, when his heart seemed to give a great jump, for it came right out as he exerted himself, with comparative ease, and directly after he had it hugged to his chest and was staggering and nearly falling headlong as he stepped down from the iron platform, making for the side. But he recovered himself, tottering on, and then in the darkness kicking against something soft--a sleeper--the encounter sending him, top-heavy as he was, crash against the bulwark, but doing all that he wanted, for the breech-block struck against the rail, glanced off, and went overboard, to fall with a tremendous splash, followed by another, which the middy made himself, as he half flung himself over, half rolled from the rail, to go down with the water thundering in his ears.

The heaviness of his plunge naturally sent him below for some distance, but it was not long before he was rising again.

It was long enough, though, for thought--and thoughts come quickly at a time like this. Fitz's first flash was a brilliant one, connected with his success, for the breech-block was gone beyond recovery; his next was one of horror, and connected with the sharks that haunted those waters; his third was full of despair; where was Poole, whom he seemed to have left to his fate?

Hah! The surface again, and he could breathe; but which way to swim for the boat? There was none needed, for his shoulders were barely clear of the water when his arm was seized in a tremendous grip, another hand was thrust under his arm-pit, and he was literally jumped, dripping, into a boat, to pant out his first audible utterance for the past hour. It was only a word, and that was--

"Poole!"

"I'm all right," came from out of the darkness close at hand.

"Then give way, my lads, for your lives!" panted Fitz, and the oars began to splash.

It was quite time, for there was no sleeping on board the gunboat now.

All was rush and confusion; voices in Spanish were shouting orders, men hurrying here and there, a few shots were fired in their direction, evidently from revolvers, and then a steam-whistle was heard to blow, followed by a hissing, clanking sound, and the man who had hauled Fitz in over the bows put his face close to him and whispered--

"Steam-capstan. They're getting up their anchor. But there was three splashes, sir. What was that there first?"

"The breech-block, Chips."

"Hooroar!"

It was some little time before another word was spoken, during which period the men had been rowing hard, and the boatswain, who had got hold of the rudder-lines, was steering almost at random for the sh.o.r.e, taking his bearings as well as he could from the gunboat, out of whose funnel sparks kept flying, and a lurid glare appeared upon the cloud of smoke which floated out, pointing to the fact that the stokers were hard at work.

"Mr Burnett--Mr Poole, sir," said b.u.t.ters, at last, "I aren't at all satisfied about the way we are going. I suppose we may speak out now?"

"Oh yes," cried Fitz; "I don't suppose they can hear us, and if they did they couldn't do us any harm, for it must be impossible for them to make us out."

"Oh yes, sir," cried the boatswain. "No fear of that."

"But what do you mean about not being satisfied?"

"Well, sir, my eyes is pretty good, and if you give me a fair start I can take my bearings pretty easy from the stars when I knows what time it is. But you see, it's quite another thing to hit the mouth of that little river in the dark. I know the land's right in front, but whether we are south'ard or north'ard of where the schooner lays is more than I can tell, and there's some awkward surf upon some of the rocks of this 'ere coast. Will you give your orders, please."

"Well, I don't know that I can," replied Fitz. "I think the best thing is to lie-to till daylight. What do you say, Poole?" he continued, from his position to where Poole was, right forward.

"Same as you do," was the reply. "It's impossible to make for the river now. We may be only getting farther away."

"Just keep her head on to the swell, my lads."

The next minute the gig began riding gently over the long smooth waves, while her occupants sat watching the gunboat, the only light from which now was the glow from the funnel.

"Bit wet, aren't you, Mr Burnett, sir?" said Chips. "What do you say to taking off two or three things and letting me give them a wring?"

"Ah, it would be as well," replied Fitz, beginning at once to slip off his jacket, and as if instinctively to take off attention from what he was doing he began to question Poole.

"You had better do the same, hadn't you?" he cried.

"Doing it," was the reply. "I say, are you all right?"

"No; I am so horribly wet. What about you?"

"Just the same, of course."

"But I say," said Fitz, who was calming down after the excitement; "why didn't you come on and help?"

"How could I? One of those fellows lying on the deck threw a leg and an arm over me in his sleep. I just brushed against him, and he started as if I had touched a spring, and held me fast. I tried to get away, but it was of no use, and if I had shouted it would have only given the alarm. I didn't get loose till the row began, and then there was nothing to do but come overboard and be picked up. I was in a way about you."

"Same here about you," cried fitz. "I didn't know what had happened, and when I tumbled over the rail--I didn't jump--I felt as if I had left you in the lurch."

"Well, but that's what I felt," said Poole. "It was queer."

"It made us all feel pretty tidy queer, young gentlemen," said the boatswain; "but if I may speak, the fust question is, are either of you hurt?"

"I am not," cried Fitz.

"Nor I," said Poole.

"That's right, then," said the boatswain gruffly. "Now then, what about that there block of iron? Was it that as come over plosh, only about a yard from the boat's nose?"

"Yes," cried Fitz excitedly.

"Then all I can say is, that it's a precious good job that Mr Burnett didn't chuck it a little further, for if he had it would have come right down on Chips and drove him through the bottom, and we couldn't have stopped a leak like that."

"But I should have come up again," said the carpenter, "just where I went down, and as the hole I made would have been just the same size as me, I should have fitted in quite proper."

"Yah!" growled the boatswain. "What's the use of trying to cut jokes at a time like this? Look here, gentlemen, have we done our job to rights?"

"As far as the gun's concerned," replied Fitz, "it's completely disabled, and of no use again until they get another block."

"Then that's done, sir."