“Don’t you be in such a hurry, Mr Son-of-the-skipper,” said Fitz. “I’d thought of that, and I should keep the enemy from coming on.”
“How?” said Poole, rather excitedly now.
“Light three or four watch-fires—quite little ones—and put up a stick or two amongst the bushes with blankets on them and the Spaniards’ sombrero hats. They’d look at a distance like men keeping the fire, and we could make these fires so that they would glow till daylight and go on smoking then; and as long as smoke was rising from these fires, I believe not one of the enemy would come near until the reinforcements arrived. And by that time, if all went well, we should be off Velova Bay.”
“Humph!” grunted the carpenter again.
“It won’t do, Burnett,” said Poole; “it’s too risky. There’s nothing in it.”
“Humph!” grunted the carpenter once more.
“And hark at that! You’ve set old Chips off snoring with your plot.”
“That he aren’t!” growled the carpenter. “I’ve heared every precious word. It’s fine, Mr Poole, sir—fine! There’s only one thing wanted to put it right, and that’s them Sallies sitting round the fire. I wouldn’t have Sallies. I’d have guys. I could knock you up half-a-dozen with crossed bamboos, each on ’em looking like tatter-doolies looking after crows with a gun. I says the plan would do.”
“And so do I, carpenter,” said the skipper, in his quick short tones as he stepped out from among the trees, making the three start to their feet.
“And I, my friend,” cried Don Ramon excitedly catching the middy by the hand.