“If that is all that is in the way, gentlemen,” said Mr Brown, alias Bowsprit, “get your notes ready at once. Here, Tom,” he continued, addressing the youth who was sitting on the stern seat of the row-boat, “do you knew the way to Millmont and to Blue Oldfields?”
“If I don’t, I can inquire for it, sir,” answered the boy.
“Then, as soon as you get the notes which these gentlemen want you to deliver at their houses,” said Bowsprit, “take their horses, which you will find just behind those trees, there,” pointing, “where the road corners with the shore; and as soon as you can do so, deliver notes and horses to their proper addresses. You will then walk down to Drum Point, where we shall be by that time, and we will there take you aboard.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the boy.
While these directions were being given, Captain Marston had drawn a note-book and a couple of lead-pencils from his pocket. Tearing a blank leaf from the book, he handed that and one of the pencils to John. Using their hats as writing-desks, the two young men soon finished their notes and handed them to the boy, who immediately started on his mission.
The four men in the boat had been merely lookers-on and listeners in respect to what had been taking place on the shore.
When the boy took his departure, Captain Marston, John Coe, and Billy Bowsprit leaped into the boat.
“Will you steer, Captain Marston, if you please?” asked Bowsprit.
“With pleasure,” answered the captain. “Then, if Mr Coe will take his seat with you at the stern,” said the sailor, “I will take my place at the bow, and act as lookout.”
The seats were taken, and the boat having been driven from the shore by one or two backward strokes of the oars, her head was turned down the creek. The supple rowers bending “with a will” to the elastic blades, the light craft fleetly bounded on her course over the glowing tide of Saint Leonard’s, towards the broad Clearwater, which lay before them in the morning sunshine as ever bright and beautiful.