“Yes,” said Mr Preddle, “and if we fail we shall have done our duty. Yes, we must fight.”
“But you’ve got nothing to fight with,” I said, for no one spoke now.
“Except the oars,” said Mr Preddle.
“Why, you couldn’t climb up the ship’s side with an oar in your hand,” I cried. “Look here, wouldn’t it be best for one of us to get on board in the dark, and try to get some guns or pistols?”
“Will you go and try, Dale?” said Mr Brymer, eagerly. “That was what I meant.”
I was silent.
“You are right,” he said sadly; “it would be too risky.”
“I didn’t mean that,” I said hastily; “I was only thinking about how I could get on board. I don’t mind trying, because if he heard me and tried to catch me, I could jump over the side, and you’d be there waiting to pick me up.”
“Of course,” cried Mr Brymer. “I know it is a great deal to ask of you, my lad, and I would say, do not expose yourself to much risk. We should be, as you say, ready to pick you up.”
“I don’t see why he shouldn’t go,” drawled Mr Preddle. “One boy stole the arms and ammunition away, so it only seems right that another boy should go and steal—no, I don’t mean steal—get them back.”