Very little more was said, and the preparations were soon finished, with the rest of the crew looking on in silence. It seemed to be an understood thing, after a few words had passed with the selected men, that there was to be no palaver, as they termed it.
As for Fitz and Poole, they had nothing to do but think, and naturally they thought a great deal, especially when the night came on, with the watching party who had been sent below to the mouth of the river back with the announcement that the gunboat was in its old place, the boats all up to the davits, and not a sign of anything going on. But far from taking this as a token of safety, the skipper and mate made their arrangements to give the enemy a warm welcome if they should attack, and also despatched a couple of men in the dinghy to make fast just off the edge of the first bend and keep watch there, trusting well to their ears for the first warning of any boat that might be coming up.
The two lads stole away into their favourite place for consultations as soon as it was dark, to have what they called a quiet chat over their plans.
“I don’t see that we could do any more,” said Fitz, “but we must keep talking about it. The time goes so horribly slowly. Generally speaking when you are expecting anything it goes so fast; now it crawls as if the time would never be here.”
“Well, that’s queer,” said Poole. “Ever since I knew that we were going it has seemed to gallop.”
“Well, whether it gallops or whether it crawls it can’t be very long before it’s time to start. I say, how do you feel?”
“Horrible,” said Poole. “It makes me think that I must be a bit of a coward, for I want to shirk the responsibility and be under somebody’s command. My part seems to be too much for a fellow like me to undertake. You don’t feel like that, of course.”
Fitz sat there in the darkness for a few minutes without speaking. Then after heaving a deep sigh—
“I say,” he whispered, “shall you think me a coward if I say I feel just like that?”
“No. Feeling as I do, of course I can’t.”