"Yes," agreed Alwyn. "It was half-ebb when they scuttled her. That means high-water about seven o'clock. Let's hope it will be a dark night and not too much wind. You say you know where the two buckets are stowed?"
Minalto made no reply. He was staring thoughtfully at a corner of the pantry.
"Anything wrong?" inquired Burgoyne. "You haven't got cramp, I hope?"
"No, sir," replied the man. "It's a mort too warm to give I cramp. I'm just a-thinkin', sir. See that li'l boiler? Couldn't us get 'en away an' use 'en for a water-tank?"
Burgoyne jumped at the idea. The "li'l boiler" was in reality a galvanized iron bin used for storing flour, and would hold about fifty gallons of water without much chance of its contents spilling over the top, as it was fitted with a metal lid.
"You're a gem of the first water, Jasper!" exclaimed Burgoyne enthusiastically. "Come on, let's get it adrift at once. It will be something to do."
By the aid of broken-off ends of files it was a fairly simple matter to unscrew the brass clamps. Examination of the tank showed that it was half filled with mouldy flour.
"Soon clean 'en," declared Minalto. "Then when us gets round t'other side fill 'en wi' water, and put 'en aboard the boat again."
"Hardly," demurred Burgoyne. "That tank even if only filled to within two inches of the top would weigh well over four hundredweights. No, we'll have to leave it in the life-boat and fill it up by means of the buckets. By Jove! that knocks Angus and his canvas tanks into a cocked hat. We'll clean it out now. Salt water won't hurt if we wash it with fresh later on."
The hours dragged wearily on. Both men were hungry and thirsty, for they had come unprepared for the task on which they were at present engaged. But at length the darkening gloom in the alley-way announced that night had drawn in, and the time for strenuous activity was at hand.