ng, as
he calls it."

Fitz frowned with annoyance, and seemed to give himself a regular
snatch.

"You'd rather not go, of course?" continued the skipper dryly.

"I can't help wanting to go, Mr Reed," replied the lad sharply; "and if
I went just as a spectator I don't see how I should be favouring any of
your designs."

"Well, no," said the skipper dryly, "if you put it like that. I don't
see after all how you could be accused of turning buccaneer. But would
you really like to go?"

"Why, of course," said Fitz. "It's all experience."

"Off with you then," said the skipper; "only don't get within shot. I
don't want to have to turn amateur doctor again on your behalf. I am
clever enough at cuts and bruises, and I dare say if I were hard put to
it I could manage to mend a broken leg or arm, but I wouldn't undertake
to be hunting you all over to find where a rifle-bullet had gone.
Accidents are my line, not wounds received in war; and, by the way,
while we are talking of such subjects, if we have to lie up here in this
river for any time, you had better let me give you a dose or two of
quinine."

"Oh, but I am quite well now," cried Fitz.

"Yes, and I want you to keep so, my lad. That's a very good old proverb
that says, `Prevention is better than cure.'"

A very short time afterwards the schooner's gig, with her little
well-armed crew, was allowed to glide down with the stream, with the
mate, boat-hook in hand, standing in the bows, Poole astern with the
rudder-lines, and Fitz a spectator, thoroughly enjoying the beauty of
the vast cliffs that arose on either side as they descended towards the
river's mouth.

It was all zigzag and winding, the stream carrying them along slowly,
for a sharp sea-breeze was dead against them, explaining how it was that
the schooner had sailed up so easily as she had.

Fitz had ample proof, without Poole's drawing his attention to the fact,
that there was no possibility of the gunboat making practice with her
heavy piece, for everywhere the schooner was sheltered, the course of
the river being all zigzag and wind, till all at once, as the men were
dipping their oars gently, the gig passed round a bend, and there was
the enemy about three miles off shore, lying-to, with her great black
plume of smoke floating towards them, spreading out like a haze and
making her look strange and indistinct.

"Did you bring a glass, Poole, my lad?" growled the mate.

"No; I never thought