Chips sniffs.
The silence and darkness made the lads’ start for their venturesome expedition doubly impressive, the more so that the men were looking on in silence and wonder, and no light was shown on board the schooner. The gig with its load of cable had been swinging for hours by the painter, and midnight was near at hand, when the little crew, each armed with cutlass and revolver, stood waiting for their orders to slip down into their seats.
This order came at last, accompanied by one command from the skipper, and it was this—
“Perfect silence, my lads. Obey orders, and do your best.—Now, my boys,” he continued, as soon as the men were in the boat, “do not fire a shot unless you are absolutely obliged. Mr Burgess will follow in the large boat with a dozen men, to lie off the mouth of the river ready to help you if you are in trouble; so make for there. If you want to signal to them to come to you, strike a couple of matches one after the other, and throw them into the water at once. Last night the gunboat did not show a light. I expect that it will be the same to-night, as they will think they are safer; but I fancy amongst you, you will have eyes sharp enough to make her out, and the darkness will be your best friend, so I hope the sea will not brime. There, your hand, Mr Burnett. Now yours, Poole, my boy. Over with you at once.”
The next minute the boys had slid down into the boat, to seat themselves in the stern-sheets with the boatswain; the carpenter pulled the stroke oar, so that he was within reach if they wished to speak, and with the boatswain taking the rudder-lines they glided slowly down the stream.
“Tell them just to dip their oars to keep her head straight, boatswain,” said Poole quietly. “We have plenty of time, and we had better keep out in mid-stream. A sharp look-out for anything coming up.”
“Ay, ay, my lad,” was the reply, and they seemed to slip on into the black darkness which rose before them like a wall, while overhead, like a deep purple band studded with gold, the sky stretched from cliff to cliff of the deep ravine through which the river ran.
“Now, Poole,” said Fitz suddenly, speaking in a low voice, almost a whisper, “you had better say a word or two to Mr Butters about the work we are on.”
“No,” replied Poole; “it was your idea, and you’re accustomed to take command of a boat, so you had better speak, for the boatswain and the carpenter ought to know. The other men will have nothing to do but manage the gig—”
“Hah!” ejaculated the boatswain, in a deep sigh, while Chips, who had heard every word, only gave vent to a sniff.