Fitz the Filibuster Part 68

"What men's way?" said the boatswain. "Chips, Harry Smith, the Camel, and d.i.c.k Boulter," said Poole.

"Ho!" grunted the boatswain, and he took off his cap and began to scratch his head, staring at both in turn. "Whose orders?" he grunted, at last. "I just seen Mr Burgess, and he never said a word."

"The skipper's orders," cried Poole.

"Ho!" said the boatswain again. "Well, that's good enough for me," and he stood staring at them.

"Well, get the men together and see about the rope," cried Poole.

"What's your game? Going to take the end out to a steam-tug, or is the gunboat going to tow us out to sea?"

"Don't ask questions, please. It's private business of the skipper's, under the orders of Mr Burnett and me."

"Ho! All right, my lad; only oughtn't I to know what we are going to do? You are going off somewhere in the boat, eh?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And I'm not to come?"

"Oh, but you are," cried Poole, "and I've told you the men I've picked for the job. Don't you think it's a good crew?"

"Middling," said the boatswain grudgingly. "Might be better; might be wuss. But look here, young fellow; I don't like working in the dark."

"I am sorry for you," said Fitz, "for this will be an all-night job."

"Then I'd better take my nightcap," said the boatswain quietly. "But what's up? Are you going to make fast to the gunboat and tow her in?"

"You know we are not," replied Poole.

"Well, I did think it was rather an unpossible sort of job. But hadn't you better be open and above-board with a man, and say what it all means?"

"It means that you and the other men are under the orders of Mr Burnett and me, and that we look to you to do your best over what's going to be a particular venture. You'll know soon enough. Till then, please wait."

"All right," said the boatswain. "I'm your man. For the skipper wouldn't have given you these orders if it wasn't square;" saying which the man walked off to rouse up the little crew, all but the Camel, whom he left to his regular work in the galley. "We shan't want him yet,"

said b.u.t.ters, as the boys followed him. "Had he better get us some rations to take with us?"

"Oh no," said Poole. "We oughtn't to be away more than three or four hours if we are lucky."

"Why, this 'ere gets mysteriouser and mysteriouser," grumbled the boatswain. "But I suppose it's going to be all right," and he proceeded to give his orders to the men.

"Now we shall begin to have them full of questions," said Poole. "I begin to wish we were making it all open and above-aboard."

"I don't," said Fitz; "I like it as it is. If we told everybody it would spoil half the fun."

"Fun!" cried Poole, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his face into a quaint smile. "Fun, do you call it? Do you know that this is going to be a very risky job?"

"Well, I suppose there'll be some risk in it," replied the middy; "but it will be all in the dark, and we ought to get it done without a shot being fired. I say, though, I have been thinking that you and I must keep together, for I am afraid to trust myself over getting out that block. I should have liked to have done that first, but the splash it would make is bound to give the alarm, and there would be no chance afterwards to get that cable fast, without you let old b.u.t.ters and the men do that while we were busy with the gun."

"No," said Poole decisively; "everything depends upon our doing these things ourselves. The cable can be made fast without a sound, and as soon as it is pa.s.sed over the side of the boat, the men must lay the gig alongside the bows for us to swarm up, do our part, and then get to them the best way we can. I expect it will mean a jump overboard and a swim till they pick us up."

"Yes," said Fitz; "that's right. Ah, there comes the end of the cable.

It's nice and soft to handle."

"Yes," said Poole, "and needn't make any noise."

The lads sauntered up to where the men were at work, three of them lowering down the gig, while the carpenter and boatswain were bringing up the cable out of the tier, the former on deck, the boatswain down below.

"So you're going to have a night's fishing, my lad?" said the carpenter.

"Well, you'll find this 'ere a splendid line. But what about a hook?"

"Oh, we shan't want that yet, Chips," said Poole coolly.

"Nay, I know that, my lad; but you've got to think about it all the same, and you'll want a pretty tidy one for a line like this. I didn't know the fish run so big along this coast. Any one would think you'd got whales in your heads. I never 'eard, though, as there was any harpoons on board."

"Oh no, we are not going whale-fishing," said Poole quietly.

"What's it to be then, sir? Bottom fishing or top?"

"Top," said Poole.

"Then you'll be wanting me to make you a float. What's it to be? One of them big water-barrels with the topsail-yard run through? And you'll want a sinker. And what about a bait?"

"We haven't thought about that yet, Chips."

"Ah, you aren't like what I was when I was a boy, Mr Poole, sir. I used to think about it the whole day before, and go to the butcher's for my maggits, and down the garden for my wums. Of course I never fished in a big way like this 'ere; but I am thinking about a bait. I should like you to have good sport. Means hard work for the Camel to-morrow, I suppose."

"And to-night too, Chips, I hope," said Poole.

"That's right, sir," said the man cheerily, as he hauled upon the cable.

"But what about that bait? I know what would be the right thing; perhaps the skipper mightn't approve, and not being used to it Mr Burnett here mightn't like to use such a bait."

"Oh, I don't suppose I should mind, Chips," said Fitz, laughing. "What should you recommend?"

"Well, sir, I should say, have the dinghy and go up the river a mile or two till we could land and catch a nice lively little n.i.g.g.e.r--one of them very shiny ones. That would be the sort."

The two lads forgot the seriousness of the mission they had in view, exchanged glances, and began to laugh, with the result that the man turned upon them quite an injured look.

"Oh, it's quite right, gentlemen; fishes have their fancies and likings for a tasty bit, same as crocodiles has. I arn't sailed all round the world without picking up a few odds and ends to pack up in my knowledge-box. Why, look at sharks. They don't care for n.i.g.g.e.r; it's too plentiful. But let them catch sight of a leg or a wing of a nice smart white sailor, they're after it directly. Them crocs too! Only think of a big ugly lizardy-looking creetur boxed up in a skin half rhinoceros, half cow-horn--just fancy him having his fads and fancies!

Do you know what the crocodile as lives in the river Nile thinks is the choicest t.i.t-bit he can get hold of?"

"Not I," said Poole. "Giraffe perhaps."

"No, sir; what he says is dog, and if he only hears a dog running along the bank yelping and snapping and chy-iking, he's after him directly, finishes him up, and then goes and lies down in the hot sun with his mouth wide open, and goes to sleep. Ah, you may laugh, sir; but I've been up there in one of them barges as they calls darbyers, though how they got hold of such an Irish name as that I don't know. It was along with a orficer as went up there shooting crocs and pottomhouses. Oh, I've seen the crocs there often--lots of them. Do you know what they opens their mouths for when they goes to sleep, Mr Burnett, sir?"

"To yawn, I suppose," said Fitz. "Haul away there, my lad! Look alive!" came in a deep growl from below; and Chips winked and made the great muscles stand out in his brown arms as he hauled, but kept on talking all the same.

"Yawn, sir! Nay, that isn't it. It's a curiosity in nat'ral history, and this 'ere's fact. You young gents may believe it or not, just as you like."