“Yes; the gunboat, with her big breech-loader and propeller disabled, is fast upon the rocks.”
“Captain Reed!” cried the Don, seizing him by both hands. “Is this true?”
“As true as that I am telling you.”
“But the captain and his men?”
“They’re standing by her. But they will never get her off.”
“Oh!” shouted Fitz, giving a sudden jump and turning sharply round, to see the carpenter backing away confused and shamefaced, for he had been listening eagerly to the conversation, and at the critical point alluding to the gunboat being got off, he had in his excitement given Fitz a vigorous pinch.
“Here, what are you thinking of doing?” said the skipper.
“Doing?” said the Don excitedly. “There will be no banquet to-night. I must gather together my men, and make for the gunboat at once.”
“What for?” cried the skipper.
“To strike the last blow for victory,” cried the Don. “We must surround and take the gunboat’s crew, and then at any cost that gunboat must be floated. I don’t quite see yet how it is to be done, but the attempt must be made before there is another gale. That gunboat must be saved. No,” he continued thoughtfully, “I don’t see yet how it can be done.”