The inventor passed up to the lad a coil of stout, half-inch rope, to the end of which Ned rapidly attached one of the heavy sounding leads.
“Now then, sir, if we can creep up under her counter, I can do the trick,” he whispered, when this had been done.
Silently, the little sea-tiger crept in under the shadow of the gunboat’s overhanging stern. Ned took good aim, and holding a coil of the rope in one hand—like a cowboy about to throw a lariat—he hurled the lead upward. It swished round the gunboat’s stern jackstaff, in which a boxed stern-light was burning, and fell on the other side, having carried the rope to which it was attached round the staff.
For an instant they held their breath. From forward there came a sudden tinkling sound.
“Ding-ding, ding-ding!”
“Fow-er bells, and all’s well!” came the cry from the bow, ringing weirdly out on the still air.
“Wait a jiffy,” breathed Lieutenant Parry. For an instant they waited in suspense. Then came an answering cry from the stern.
“All’s well.”
“Good. That sentry was off his post, as I thought, while we were creeping up,” whispered the officer; “now then, Strong, are you ready?”