men will hold on, while you
and Chips make fast the end to one of the fans, and then let the cable
glide out into the water as we pass round to the bows. It must all be
done without a sound. All the rope must be run out, to sink, and then I
propose that you hold on again under the starboard anchor."

"Suppose starboard anchor's down?" growled the boatswain.

"Pass the boat round to the port; either will do; but if we are seen or
heard, all is over."

"Won't be seen," growled the boatswain. "It's black enough to puzzle a
cat."

"Very well, then--heard," continued Fitz.

"Right, sir. What next?"

"There are no more orders. You will hold on while Mr Poole and I get
aboard. We shall do the rest."

"Hah!" sighed the boatswain; and like an echo came a similar sound from
the carpenter.

Then _pat, pat, pat_ came the kissing of the water against the bows of
the gig, and the sides of the ravine seemed as weird and strange as
ever, while the darkness if anything grew more profound.

At this point, with the boat gliding swiftly down stream, Poole leaned
sideways to run his hand down Fitz's sleeve, feel for his hand, and give
it a warm pressure, which was returned.

Then they went on round bend after bend, the current keeping them pretty
well in the centre, till at last the final curve was reached, the starry
band overhead seemed to have suddenly grown wider and the air less
oppressive, both hints that they were getting out to sea, and that the
time for the performance of the daring enterprise was close at hand.

Most fortunately the sea did not "brime," as the West-countrymen say,
when the very meshes of their nets turn into threads of gold through the
presence of the myriad phosphorescent creatures that swarm so thickly at
times that the surface of the sea looks as if it could be skimmed to
clear it of so much lambent liquid gold.

This was what was wanted, for with a phosphorescent sea, every dip of
the oar, every wavelet which broke against the boat, would have served
as signal to warn the watch on board the gunboat that enemies were near.

But unfortunately, on the other hand, there was the darkness profound,
and not the scintillation of a riding light to show where the gunboat
lay. They knew that she was about two miles from shore, and as nearly
as could be made out just at the mouth of the channel along which the
_Teal_ had been piloted to enable her to reach the sanctuary in which
she lay.

But wher