, hot coffee and preserved
milk.

They did good justice to the meal too, and before they had ended the
skipper came down to them, looked on for a minute or two, and then
nodded his satisfaction.

"That looks well, my lads," he said. "It's business-like, and as if
your hearts were so much in your work that you didn't feel disposed to
shirk it. It makes me comfortable, for I was getting a little nervous
about you, I must own."

The boys exchanged glances, but said nothing.

"Here, don't mind me," continued the skipper. "Make a good hearty meal,
and I'll talk to you as you eat."

"About our going and what we are about to do, father?" said Poole.

"Well, my boy, yes, of course."

"I wish you wouldn't, father. It's too late now to be planning and
altering, and that sort of thing."

"Yes, please, Captain Reed," cried Fitz excitedly. "It's like lessons
at school. We ought to know what we've got to do by now, and learning
at the last minute won't do a bit of good. If we succeed we succeed,
and if we fail we fail."

"Do you know what a big writer said, my boy, when one of his characters
was going off upon an expedition?"

"No, sir," said Fitz.

"Good luck to you, perhaps," said Poole, laughing, though the laugh was
not cheery.

"No, my lad," said the skipper. "I have not been much of a reader, and
I'm not very good at remembering wise people's sayings, but he said to
the young fellow when he talked as you did about failing, `In the bright
lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail,' which I suppose was a
fine way of saying, Go and do what you have got to do, and never think
of not succeeding. You're not going to fail. You mustn't. There's too
much hanging to it, my boys; and now I quite agree with you that we'll
let things go as they are."

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

CHIPS SNIFFS.

The silence and darkness made the lads' start for their venturesome
expedition doubly impressive, the more so that the men were looking on
in silence and wonder, and no light was shown on board the schooner.
The gig with its load of cable had been swinging for hours by the
painter, and midnight was near at hand, when the little crew, each armed
with cutlass and revolver, stood waiting for their orders to slip down
into their seats.

This order came at last, accompanied by one command from the skipper,
and it was this--

"Perfect silence, my lads. Obey orders, and do your best.--Now, my
boys," he continued, as soo