“Think there’s anybody on deck?”
The answer came—
“If there is he must be asleep.”
“What about that chap who was smoking?”
“I think after that last yawn he went below.”
“Then isn’t it time we began?”
Fitz whispered back—
“Yes, if we are going to do anything; but our plans seem turned topsy-turvy. We are close to the bows, where we ought to get up for me to tackle the gun.”
“Yes,” whispered Poole, “but if we do that there’ll be no chance afterwards to foul the screw; and that ought to be done, so that we can get rid of this cable. It will be horribly in the way if we have to row for our lives.”
Fitz pressed his companion’s arm sharply, for at that moment there was another yawn from the gunboat’s deck, followed by a muttering grumbling sound as of two men talking, suggesting that one had woke the other, who was finding fault. But all sound died out, and then there was the deep silence once again.