"Cast off the painter, then," ordered Harry, as he completed his hasty toilet. "I may as well take my revolver, though it's not up to much."
The Spray, like many other small yachts, carried a revolver, for use in case of emergency. As the skipper remarked, you might have the weapon on board for a lifetime and never require it. On the other hand, you might find it useful for summoning assistance. This particular pistol had seen its day. It was an old-fashioned percussion-capped Colt, taking nearly five minutes to load. Its owner habitually kept one chamber, upon which the hammer rested, empty; three were loaded with powder only, the remaining two had cylindrical bullets in addition to the charge. If the weapon did not miss fire—which was more than possible—it could be relied upon to make a deafening row, if nothing else.
Thrusting the revolver into the pocket of his thick pea-jacket, whence its muzzle projected a good two inches, Armitage jumped into the stern-sheets of the nine-foot dinghy. Jack shipped the oars and pushed off in the direction of the invisible hulk.
It was a strong pull, for the light cockleshell had to make headway against a strong wind and tide, but Standish stuck to his task and "kept his eyes in the boat," guided only by the direction of his companion's extended hand.
"Steady now," cautioned Harry, as the bare outlines of the Bikanir began to loom up in the darkness. "We're out of the tide here."
"And a thundering good job too," muttered Jack, pausing for one instant to wipe the raindrops from his face.
Rowing with the utmost possible silence he brought the dinghy under the stern of the hulk. Here, sheltered from the wind, the lads held on to a massive mooring-chain, and waited.
Beyond the shrieking and hissing of the wind as it eddied past the old two-decker, there was nothing to be heard. The hulk seemed a silent as the tomb.
"I believe you're mistaken," whispered Armitage; "perhaps those fellows you heard in the boat were wild-fowling by night."
"That won't do," replied Standish. "Firing is prohibited within the limits of the Dockyard Port of Sandborough, and this part lies well within the boundary. Come on—let's pull round to the gangway, only, if we're challenged, we must reply pretty promptly, or the consequences might be awkward."