"Then, by God, if a woman will dare it, we mustn't show the white feather, Jack," exclaimed the Resurrection Man.
"That's speaking to the point," observed the foreman. "You see there's a guard on land, to prevent any one from going near the vessel on that side; and the police-boat rows about on the river. The plan would be, to get down to Gravesend to-morrow, then to-morrow night, to drop down with the tide close under the bank, and get alongside the vessel."
"All that can be done easy enough," said the Resurrection Man. "But we want more hands. Of course you'll go with us?"
"Yes—I'll risk it," answered Mr. Swot. "It's too good a thing to let slip between one's fingers. If you'll leave it to me I'll get two or three more hands; because we must be prepared to master all that we may meet on the deck of the schooner, the very moment we board it, so as not to give 'em time even to cry out, or they'd alarm the police-boat."
"Well and good," said the Resurrection Man. "But you don't mean to go in the lighter?"
"No—no: we must have a good boat with two sculls," answered Swot. "Leave that also to me. At day-break every thing shall be ready for you; and I shall join you in the evening at Gravesend."
"Agreed!" cried Tidkins.
Mr. Swot then took his departure; and the three persons whom he left behind in the lighter, continued their carouse.
In this way the Resurrection Man, the Buffer, and Moll Wicks amused themselves until nearly eleven o'clock, when, just as they were thinking of retiring for the night,—Tidkins to his bed in the after cabin where they were then seated, and the other two to their berth in the cuddy forward,—the lighter was suddenly shaken from one end to the other by some heavy object which bumped violently against it.