"I'm going to sail her across the Ringdove's bowsprit," he said, "and shall get my rigging foul of her, if possible. If I can't, I have a grapnel, and shall catch hold of her cable, and when the sampan can't drift away, I shall pull out those plugs and begin "hullabalooing" like a Chinaman. When she sinks I shall hold on to the buoy and go on squealing till the quartermaster comes along, and when he hears where I am he'll probably get into the dinghy to pick me up.
"I sha'n't be there when he comes," he added, grinning. Of course, in a small gunboat the only man on watch at night is the quartermaster, and if there wasn't much of a row, he probably would not call anyone else.
"Now, what you have to do is this"—we all got fearfully excited—"I've asked the Commander for his gig to-night, told him I wanted it for a special purpose, and he played the game and didn't ask for what, and said she needn't be hoisted out of the water. She's quite big enough to take the gun and carriage, and Hamilton and the 'A.P.' and six of the strongest of you mids have to go away in her at about half-past two in the middle watch. You must be down astern of her, not close enough to let her spot you, by a quarter to three, and then wait till you hear me start squealing.
"The Ringdove has her dinghy made fast to the starboard boom to-night, so you'll have to pull alongside her port gangway as 'gingerly' as ever you can, get aboard and bring back the gun, and the carriage too, if you've got time. The trunnions of the gun are only secured in the carriage by bands, and there are pins in them which can be pulled out—well, a good many of you have seen them already. Don't worry about me; I'll swim back."
That was the scheme which he and Mr. Hamilton had worked out between them, and it was jolly exciting. Mr. Hamilton was to go in charge of the gig, and as he was very strong—nearly as strong as the Sub himself—he had to do the lifting with Mr. Moore (the A.P.). Webster, Jones, and Jim Rawlings and three of the others were told off to pull the oars, because they were the strongest of the mids.
"Dicky", who was quite all right now, wasn't to go, because he was too excitable, and "Pongo" was too fat and useless. I wasn't going either at first, but I implored them to let me steer. I could manage with one hand, if they fixed up the wooden tiller the Commander used when he took the gig away sailing, and I said that I had some right to go, because the gun had fired at me so often. Jim backed me up, and Mr. Langham agreed that I had some right, but told me that I should have to sit on the gunwale, behind the stern sheets, so as not to crowd the boat too much.
You may jolly well imagine that I didn't care where I sat or what I did, so long as I could take my share in the job.
Presently Mr. Langham compared his watch with Mr. Hamilton's, and went ashore in a very old flannel suit; and we had to turn in and pretend to sleep, though that was impossible, and we kept on running up on deck to see what kind of a night it was.
It turned out to be jolly dark, which was splendid; but there was only a very little breeze, and that was blowing from Kowloon, on the mainland, straight towards Hong-Kong. This was a nuisance, because it meant that Mr. Langham would have to beat off shore in the sampan, and as there would be a jolly strong tide running, it would be very difficult to just hit off the buoy and the Ringdove's bows, especially as he was going to do it single-handed.
Mr. Hamilton was rather worried about this, and just after midnight he came along to Jim and told him he had better go ashore, find Mr. Langham, and help him sail her. Jim was about the strongest swimmer of all us mids; that was why he chose him. And Jim was jolly keen to go, and Mr. Hamilton pulled him ashore in the skiff, told him where he would find the sampan, and pulled back again.