“Excellent!” said I. “Then I suppose we may set to work almost at once, may we not, Gurney?”
“Yes, as soon as you please, Mr Troubridge,” answered Gurney. “But I think it would be wise to give everybody a chance to get home and into bed first. It would be rather awkward if anybody should happen to be out late, taking a walk on the Head, and should see us.”
“That is true; it would,” said I. “Which reminds me that as I came along the beach, on my way here just now, I once or twice had an impression of being followed. I thought that possibly it might be you, and waited for you to overtake me; but nothing came of it.”
“It is a case of ‘guilty conscience’, I expect, Mr Troubridge,” laughed Gurney. “Why should anyone follow you? Nobody can possibly suspect us, for neither Grace nor I—nor you either, I suppose—have ever breathed a word of this to a single soul, not even to each other when there has been the slightest chance of our being overheard.”
“No, of course not; it was my fancy, perhaps,” I answered. “I must plead guilty to having felt a trifle anxious and nervous during the last few days. But that is all gone and past now. The first thing that I want to talk to you about, Gurney, is the boats. I don’t much like the idea of going to sea without boats, and especially the longboat. Now, so far as the quarter boats are concerned, I believe we might manage to get them both hoisted up to the davits, by hooking the watch-tackle on to the falls; but what about the longboat? Do you think there is any possibility of our being able to hoist her in?”
“We might, certainly—if we only had the time,” answered Gurney. “But it would have to be done before we passed out through the reef. In smooth water—if, as I say, we had the time—I dare say it could be done. But not outside, with the ship rolling and tumbling about; the boat would be stove long before we could get her inboard.”
“Undoubtedly,” I agreed. “But I have a plan which I think will afford us the time to hoist in the longboat as well as the two quarter boats before we go outside. When once we are safely out of the Basin, what have we to fear? Nothing, except being overtaken and the ship recaptured by a strong body of men sent after us in boats. But if they have no boats they cannot follow us! Now, my plan is this. I propose that, as soon as it seems safe to do so, we proceed to the spot where all the boats are moored, man the jollyboat, and tow all the rest off to the ship, veering them astern by their painters when we get aboard. Then we will loose and set the fore and main topsail and fore topmast staysail, slip the cable, and work the ship out between the Heads into the lagoon. Once there, we are safe; we can heave-to, and hoist the two quarter boats to the davits, then put on the hatches, and hoist in the longboat, with no fear that anyone can possibly interfere with us. Then, when we have completed our work to our satisfaction, we can cast the remaining boats adrift—they will be certain to drive ashore undamaged, and be recovered—and we can go out through the reef in broad daylight.”
“By Jove, Mr Troubridge, you have hit it!” exclaimed Gurney with enthusiasm. “If we can manage to secure the whole of the boats, and get the ship out of the Basin, undetected, we may defy all hands of them. Yes; I see no possibility of a hitch in that plan. But we shall not be safe until we are outside the Basin. And now, what do you think, Mr Troubridge, will it be safe to make a beginning at once, or shall we give them a little longer to get indoors and to sleep?”
“Every minute is of the utmost value to us,” said I. “Still, it would be a pity to spoil all by being too precipitate. Let us wait another hour, at the expiration of which I think we may safely make a move.”
Accordingly, we all three sat down in the deepest shadow of the rocks, chatting in low tones and discussing the prospects of the voyage, the chances of success in the somewhat desperate attempt that we were about to make, and kindred matters, until my watch showed that we were within an hour of midnight, when I thought it would be unwise to delay any longer, and accordingly gave the word to make a move. Whereupon Gurney hoisted his sweetheart’s box on his shoulders, and we all three moved cautiously and in dead silence along the beach toward where the boats were moored, keeping close in among the shadows cast by the cliffs and the overhanging foliage.