"I wish we were a little further off. I don't know why, but the fact remains that I do."
The powder-hulk, whose name and description appear in the Navy List, under the list of hulks available for harbour service, as Bikanir, 4th rate, 2,720 tons, hulk, floating powder magazine, R.N. Ordnance Depot Sandborough.
She was one of five vessels built of teak in Bombay. Shorn of her tapering masts, "housed in," and painted a bright red, she lay moored in upper Sandborough Creek. Day and night a red flag fluttered in the breeze, and day and night reliefs of two water-policemen belonging to the Metropolitan Police, keep watch and ward over the highly explosive cargo, the ignition of which would mean the total destruction of every vessel and building within two miles of her, and immense damage done to the town and dockyard of Sandborough. Apart from the deadly monotony of an eight hour watch the two ship-keepers whose duty compels them to be on board from ten at night till six in the morning have a most uncomfortable time. Without lights or fires they have to exist—keeping a sharp look-out for possible danger, while they have instructions to make use of their revolvers if suspicious characters come within a certain distance of the floating magazine.
Should a fire break out, the ship-keepers have a few patent extinguishers and an obsolete manual pump. While one man has to do his best with these appliances, the other has to take a boat and row off to a smaller hulk. Here are kept lanterns, rockets, and matches. Three red lanterns displayed are the signal that a conflagration has broken out, but the regulations say nothing as to what is likely to occur between the discovery of the flames and the completion of the lengthy task of procuring and exhibiting the danger-lamps.
Within a quarter of an hour from the time they let go the anchor, the Spray was snugged down, the riding-lamp was hoisted to the fore-stay, and the crew turned into the small but comfortable cabin for supper.
At about a quarter to ten the two lads—both of them were eighteen years of age—heard the shrill blast of a steam-whistle above the howling of the wind.
"There's the police-launch taking the reliefs," said Jack. "Let's turn out and have a look at the poor bounders."
"All right," assented Harry, but as he gained the well, he turned and exclaimed hurriedly, "Look sharp—hand me that light. Our riding-lamp's blown out, and the launch is bearing down straight for us."
It was an anxious moment, but to the lads' relief the red and green steaming lights of the launch changed to red alone, and the craft swept past the yacht at less than five yards distance.
"Good night, sergeant," shouted Harry, as the glare from the boat's furnace lit up the rugged features of the coxswain. Both lads knew the man well, for the Spray was a frequent visitor to Sandborough Harbour.