“So much the better,” cried Gollop, slapping his thigh. “But what does Mounseer say?”
“I do anything what please you,” said the Frenchman quietly.
Five minutes’ close discussion ensued. Then the boat’s head was turned upstream, and the little party, hopeful and elated, was speeding back to Gravesend.
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD
AT GRIPS AT LAST
In Gravesend they spent a busy hour. While Boulter bought a small sea-chest at a marine store, Gollop purchased cutlasses for the watermen and a stout staff for Martin: Hopton fortunately had brought his club. A visit to a slop shop provided sea-jackets and hats for the two boys, and so disguised they might have been taken for cabin boys ashore. The cutlasses, wrapped in sacking, were laid in the chest.
“We’d better wait for the dusk,” said Gollop. “How about the tide, Boulter?”
“ ’Twill turn at dusk or thereabouts,” replied the waterman. “But the wind’s dropping, so we mustn’t bide too long or the barque will slip us.”
“True; but we’ll have time to fill our holds, which I mean to say our stomachs. An empty man’s only half a man, and every one of us will have to make two to-night, or I’m a Dutchman.”