“Going arter Big Jem for twopence. Are we going to have another fight? Well, if we are he arn’t going to tackle two on ’em, for I’m going to see fair with my stick and the crew o’ that cutter to look on to form a ring.”
By the time he had thought out this observation it was time for him to carefully ascend to the top of one of the great mooring-posts, the flattest-topped one by preference. How it was done was a puzzle, and it drew forth the observations of the cutter’s crew, while the midshipman in charge shouted “Bravo!” But somehow or other, by the use of his hands and a peculiar hop, Tom Bodger brought himself up perpendicularly upon the top of the post, steadied himself with his stick, and then held his head aloft.
That was enough. Aleck was near enough in to recognise the figure and comprehend the signal, which in Tom’s code read:
“Right and ready, my lad. Steer for here.”
Chapter Ten.
Aleck ran his boat close in behind the cutter after lowering the sail so close that it touched the midshipman’s dignity.
“Hi, you, sir!” he shouted. “Mind where you’re going with that boat.”
“All right,” replied Aleck, coolly enough. “I won’t sink you.”