"Come along, my jumping Orphan! Come along! Wake up! Show a leg!" the Sub cried, turning up the light. "Now we're off for our picnic."
They pulled on their boots, buckled their revolver-belts round them—the Orphan feeling a funny sensation of emptiness under his belt, just at first—and went on deck, creeping under the hammocks in the half-deck, and hearing Bubbles snoring luxuriously.
They climbed down into the picket-boat and found Jarvis.
"Everything ready, sir! Old Fletcher 'as just gone up to bring down that there hanimile of 'is—the old 'umbug. 'E'll be along in a minute. I've got some 'ot cocoa for you two officers—down in the cabin."
Alongside, in the motor-yacht, the Greeks were coiled up asleep, and Mr. M'Andrew could be seen, walking round in his usual ponderous way, waking them. A little oil-lamp in her engine-room showed the Greek engineer overhauling the motors.
The Bandit and the Hired Assassin, with rifles and bandoliers, were brought across and taken down into the forepeak.
From the dark gangway above them the Captain's voice called down: "Everything ready to start?"
"Yes, sir," the Sub called back.
"Well, good luck to you! I hope you'll bring back a prize by breakfast-time."
"We'll have a jolly good try, sir," the Sub answered.