"My perishing Orphan! What a show it's going to be!" And the Sub pulled the Orphan inside his cabin, shoved him down on top of the wash-stand, and spread out the rough chart which Captain Macfarlane had just given him.
"It beats the band, Sonny. We've to go out at midnight. The motor-yacht is coming along with us, and we have to rendezvous with the Kennet at about three o'clock. She will take us to the mouth of the creek—here," and the Sub pointed to the creek marked on the chart. "Two refugees from the village are coming with us to show the way in—up we sprint—cut out a Turkish patrol-boat hiding up there in front of the village—tow her out to the destroyer, and bring her back—a prize. What d'you say to that, my guzzling Orphan? What d'you say to that for a job? Fancy catching them asleep, waking them up, and banging them on the head if they don't hand over their old junk quietly."
"Or toppling them overboard," gasped the Orphan, wild with delight. In his wildest dreams he had never imagined such a grand adventure.
"Well, off you go. See that the boat is all right. Oh," the Sub called, as the midshipman began to run off, "we're to take four more 'hands'. I'll choose 'em. I've got 'em in my mind. Everybody has to take rifle and cutlass. You'd better take a pistol, but don't shoot me with it. That's all. I'll arrange about the grub. Off you go."
The Orphan dashed away to supervise the fitting out of the picket-boat.
CHAPTER XVII
A "Cutting-out" Expedition
Down in the picket-boat the Orphan found armourers and blacksmiths busily fitting the additional plates all round the stern-sheets.
"That'll make a snug place aft, sir," Jarvis said sarcastically, as the midshipman climbed down into the boat. "What's in the wind now?"
"That's 'summat' like a job," he grinned, when he had been told; "summat like a cutting-out job in the old days—that."