“We know all about that,” answered Fred.
It was not until nearly midnight that the boys managed to crawl forth from the forecastle one by one. Several of the sailors were asleep close by, and the lads felt that all might be lost if any of these were awakened.
“I’m going to arm myself,” whispered Ralph. “And if anybody starts anything, I’m going to try to knock him in the head.”
The others thought this a good suggestion, and in the end every lad picked up whatever was handy in the way of a weapon. Then, watching their chance, one crowd made its way to the cook’s galley while the other slunk like shadows to the oil room at the bow.
It proved an easy matter to open the door of the oil room with the key Ira Small had found. But it was not near so easy to run the gasoline from one of the barrels into the two ten-gallon cans. They did not dare make a light for fear of an explosion, and it was difficult to work in the darkness.
But at last they had the cans filled and then Ira Small led the way to the deck once more.
“Now each of you follow me and carry one of the cans,” he said. “I’ll go ahead an’ see if the coast is clear. Don’t make no noise.”
As silently as a ghost the lanky sailor moved toward the stern of the schooner, on the lookout for any one who might be on deck. Not far behind him came the two boys, each struggling with his ten-gallon can of gasoline, a weight by no means light.
“Now go slow,” whispered Small, as he stepped back and brought the lads to a halt. “I don’t believe that fellow at the wheel is more’n half awake, but we don’t want to disturb him.”