For Name and Fame; Or, Through Afghan Passes

by G. A. Henty

"What do you think, Tom? Could it be managed?"

"I should think so, sir," the mate answered. "Suppose we take one of those empty 30-gallon beer casks, and fill that up with powder--it will hold ten or twelve of the little barrels--and then we might bung it up, and make a hole in its head. Over the hole we might fix a wine bottle, with the bottom knocked out; and so fastened, with tow and oakum, that the water won't get in. Then we might shove down through the mouth of the bottle, and through the hole below it into the powder, a long strip of paper dipped in saltpetre, to make touch paper of it. I don't know as a regular fuse would do, as it might go out for want of air; but there would be plenty to keep touch paper alight.

"We could sling three or four 18-pounder shots under the bottom of the cask, to make it sink upright. Just before we slip our cables, we might lower it down with the boats; lighting the fuse the last thing, and sticking in the cork. If we don't put too much saltpetre, it might burn for some minutes before it reached the powder."

"It's worth trying, at any rate," the captain said; "but I fear it would not burn long enough. I think that, instead of a bottle, we might jam a piece of iron tube--six or eight feet long--into the head of the cask, and cut a bung to fit it. In that way we could get a good length of fuse."

This plan was carried out. A large cask was filled with powder; and an iron tube, three inches in diameter and six feet long, fitted into it, and made water tight. A long strip of paper, after being dipped in water in which gunpowder had been dissolved; was then dried, rolled tight, and lowered down the tube, until it touched the powder. A bung was cut to fit the top of the tube; a piece of wash-leather being placed over it, to ensure its being perfectly water tight. The top of the fuse was then cut level with the pipe. Several bits of iron were lashed to the lower end of the cask, to make it sink upright; and the cask was steadily lowered into a boat lying alongside the ship, in readiness for use.

The sailors entered into the preparations with the glee of schoolboys; but the machine was not ready until long after the ship had been towed out again through the channel, and moored broadside to it, just outside.

[Chapter 8]: The Torpedo.

It was about two o'clock in the morning when the watch awoke the crew, with the news that they could hear the distant sound of oars coming along the shore. All took their places, in silence. After a time the rowing ceased, and all was quiet again. Half an hour passed, and then there was a slight sound close alongside and, in the channel, they could dimly make out a small boat--which was rapidly rowed away into the darkness again, several musket shots being fired after it.

"They have sent on ahead, to find if we were lying in the same berth," the captain said. "I expect they will be puzzled when they hear that we are outside, and that the entrance is guarded. I should not be surprised if they did not attack before morning. They had such a lesson, yesterday, that I don't think they will try to force the channel in our teeth again; but will play the waiting game, sure that they will secure us, sooner or later."

So it turned out. The hours passed slowly on, but no sound was heard. Then, in the dim morning light, a pirate fleet of eight prahus was seen, lying at a distance of half a mile within the reef.