Roger and Harry, ready as ever for an adventure, no matter how dangerous it might be, were in the boats, and keeping a sharp lookout ahead; for by this time there were but few lights to guide them, the whole city being wrapped in darkness.
Everything ahead of and around them was perfectly quiet; not a sound disturbed the still night air save only the scarcely audible ripple of water under the boats’ bows as they swept gently shoreward.
Presently there was a grating of pebbles under their keels, and the boats stopped dead.
The crews silently disembarked, and all stood still for a few moments, listening intently to ascertain whether the noise of the boats grounding on the beach had been heard. But no sound came to them, and, after waiting a little longer to make certain, the boats were gently pushed off again, each in charge of a couple of hands to take care of them, and the marauders proceeded up the beach, soon arriving on the road that ran the whole length of the town at the edge of the shingle.
The first thing to be done was to obtain possession of the fort; and, feeling their way as best they could in the dense darkness, they set off in the direction in which they knew it lay.
Up the hill they marched, and presently a black mass, somewhat darker than their surroundings, showed itself against the sky. They were there.
Stealing quietly round, they searched for the gateway, which they soon found.
Everything was now ready for the attack, and the officers went silently among the men to discover whether all were present, when it was found that not a single man was missing, or had lost his way in the dark.
Two sacks ready filled with powder, tightly pressed down, and tied at the mouth, were now brought forward.
They were placed in position against the ponderous iron-bound door, a train was laid to them, and the men then retreated to a safe distance and lay down, waiting for the explosion.