"Can't find the rotten ropes," complained Kaye. "Ugh! Isn't it horribly cold? Why did I leave my little back room——? Hallo! Someone's tied a granny in the rope, and my fingers are frozen stiff."
"Not so much row there," cautioned Dennis. "If you can't unlash the thing, cut it. Now then, you fellows, don't capsize the boat and throw us into the ditch. How's the tide?"
"On the flood," replied Derek. "Oars muffled? Kaye, you rotter, you've put more vaseline on the thwarts than you have upon the rag round the rowlocks. I thought I was on the skating-rink for the moment. All ready? Give way."
Very silently the deeply-laden little craft pushed off. Partly paddled, partly carried by the tide, the boat neared the dark-grey bows of the guard-ship.
"Who's got the quart pot?" whispered Dennis. "You, Daventry—no? How about you, Kaye? No luck? I say, you blighters, don't all say you've left the beastly thing on the pier."
Cautious groping resulted in the discovery that the earthenware trophy was not in the boat. In the darkness the conspirators had left it perched precariously on the bottom step of the landing-stage.
"Together!" hissed the Adjutant. "Don't splash so, Kaye. You sent a shower down my back, and the water's horribly cold. 'Sides, you're making an awful row. Old man Dixon will be roused out of his beauty-sleep, and our little stunt will be a proper wash-out."
It was a hard tussle to regain the pier, for the spring tide was swirling viciously. The signalling officer managed to grab the jug and deposit it in the stern-sheets, and once more the raiders approached the silent and unsuspecting guard-ship.
Deftly Derek bent the boat's painter to a deadeye in the vessel's chains, and allowed the dinghy to drop astern until she lay alongside the Jacob's ladder that served as an accommodation-ladder. One by one the four swarmed up and gained the guard-ship's deck. Here they waited, listening intently. The wind, moaning dismally through the rigging, failed to outvoice the nasal efforts of the three men forming the guard-ship's crew. The Lieutenant, berthed aft, was also soundly asleep.
Wells nudged Derek in the ribs, and handed him the earthenware pitcher. Very cautiously the two commenced to mount the creaking ladder to the bridge, while Dennis and Kaye remained by the gangway, ready to cover their comrades' retreat should their presence be detected.