“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.”