r a time, but stood shading
his eyes and sweeping the face of the cliff, before dropping his hand
and saying--

"How would you do it, my lad?"

"Oh, by climbing up, father, a bit at a time, getting hold of the bushes
and hauling oneself up sometimes."

"Ah," said the skipper quietly. "You would be very clever if you did.
It might be managed for a little way up, but all that upper part isn't
perpendicular; it hangs right over towards us. Impossible, my lad.
Nothing could get up there but a bird or a fly. We must give up that
idea. Burgess, you will have to lower a boat and let her drift down to
the headland there, stern on, and with the men ready to pull for their
lives, as you may be fired at. When you get to the head you must let
her slide along close under the bushes till you get a sight of the boats
and see what they're doing."

"Right," said the mate. "Now?"

"Yes; the sooner the better."

Poole glanced at Fitz, and then started to speak to his father; but
before he could open his lips there was an emphatic--

"No! You would only be in the way, my lads. I want four strong men to
row, and one in the stern to look out; and that one is Mr Burgess."

"Very well, father," said the lad quietly, but he looked his
disappointment at Fitz, whose vexation was plainly marked on his
countenance, as he mentally said, "Oh, bother! He might have let us
go."

Things were done promptly on board the _Teal_, and in a few moments the
cutter was lowered down with its little crew after the netting had been
cast loose and raised; and then they watched her glide down with the
stream, stern on, with the rowers balancing their oars, the stroke
dipping his now and then to keep her head to stream, and the mate
standing with his back to them till the headland was reached, when he
knelt down, caught at the overhanging bushes and water-plants, and let
the boat drift close in and on and on without making a sign, till she
disappeared.

Just then Fitz heaved a sigh.

"What's the matter, old chap?" said Poole.

"Oh, we shall have nothing to do but wait now, perhaps for hours, for I
expect the enemy has gone right back to the gunboat, and waiting is a
thing I do thoroughly hate. Eh? Is that you, Camel?"

"Andy Cawmell it is, sir. A'm thenking that it would be joost a good
time for a wee bit food. Ah've been watching Mr Burnett here, and the
puir laddie looks quite white and faint. Would you mind telling the
skipper that