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it to the lamp. "Well, we don't want to 'ear it," said Jem. "Shut up, d'ye hear?" But there was that in the cook's manner which awed him. "Dear cook," he read feverishly, "I have made an infernal machine with clock-work, and hid it in the hold near the gunpowder when we were at Fairhaven. I think it will go off between ten and eleven to-night, but I am not quite sure about the time. Don't tell those other beasts, but jump overboard and swim ashore. I have taken the boat. I would have taken you too, but you told me you swam seven miles once, so you can eas----" The reading came to an abrupt termination as his listeners sprang out of their bunks, and bolting on deck, burst wildly into the cabin, and breathlessly reeled off the heads of the letter to its astonished occupants. "Stuck a wot in the hold?" gasped the skipper. "Infernal machine," said the mate; "one of them things wot you blow up the 'Ouses of Parliament with." "Wot's the time now?" interrogated Jem anxiously. "'Bout ha'-past ten," said the cook trembling. "Let's give 'em a hail ashore." They leaned over the side, and sent a mighty shout across the water. Most of Lowport had gone to bed, but the windows in the inn were bright, and lights showed in the upper windows of two or three of the cottages. Again they shouted in deafening chorus, casting fearful looks behind them, and in the silence a faint answering hail came from the shore. They shouted again like madmen, and then listening intently heard a boat's keel grate on the beach, and then the welcome click of oars in the rowlocks. "Make haste," bawled Dobbs vociferously, as the boat came creeping out of the darkness. "W'y don't you make 'aste?" "Wot's the row?" cried a voice from the boat. "Gunpowder!" yelled the cook frantically: "there's ten tons of it aboard just going to explode. Hurry up." The sound of the oars ceased and a startled murmur was heard from the boat; then an oar was pulled jerkily. "They're putting back," said Jem suddenly. "I'm going to swim for it. Stand by to pick me up, mates," he shouted, and lowering himself with a splash into the water struck out strongly towards them. Dobbs, a poor swimmer, after a moment's hesitation, followed his example. "I can't swim a stroke," cried the cook, his teeth chattering. The others, who were in the same predicament, leaned over the side, listening. The swimmers were invisible in the darkness, but their progress w
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Fairhaven