Fitz the Filibuster Part 74

"And about my job," said Poole. "I am afraid the screw's not fouled, for I fancy the gunboat is slowly steaming out to sea."

"Well, I don't see as how we can tell that, Mr Poole, sir," said the boatswain. "I can't say as she's moving, for we are both in a sharp current, and she may be only drifting; but seeing the way as you made fast the end of that there cable, and then looped over bight after bight round them there fans, and twistened it all up tight, it seems to me that the screw must be fouled, and that every turn made it wuss and wuss. I say that you made a fine job of that there, Mr Poole. What do you say, Chips, my lad?"

"Splendid!" cried the carpenter.

"Why, it was you two did it," said Fitz.

"Well, that's what I thought, sir," said the carpenter; "but it was so dark, I couldn't see a bit."

"Zackly," said the boatswain; "and you said it was your job, sir."

"Oh, nonsense!" cried Poole. "I meant yours."

"Well," said Fitz, "all I can say is that I hope your knots were good."

"I'll answer for mine," said the boatswain, "but I won't say nothing for Chips here. He aren't much account unless it's hammers and spikes, or a job at caulking or using his adze."

"That's right," said Chips, "but you might tell the young gents that I'm handiest with a pot o' glue."

There was silence for a few moments, and then Fitz said--

"It's almost too much to expect that both things have turned out all right; but I can't help believing they have."

"Well, sir," said the boatswain, "I do hope as that there cable is not all twisted up in a bunch about them fans--reg'lar wound up tight--and if it is there's no knowing where that there gunboat will drift during the night; for I don't care how big a crew they've got aboard, they can't free that there propeller till daylight, if they do then. But it do seem a pity to spoil a beautiful new soft bit of stuff like that, for it'll never be no good again."

"Fine tackle for caulking," said the carpenter, "or making ships'

fenders."

"Yah!" cried the boatswain. "We should never get it again. It's gone, and it give me quite a heartache to use up new ship's stores like that.

But what I was going to say was, that the skipper will be saddersfied enough when we get back and tell him that Mr Burnett's crippled the big gun."

"Oh, but that was the easy job," said Fitz. "It was just play, lifting out that block and dropping it overboard."

"And a very pretty game too, Mr Burnett, sir," said the boatswain, chuckling. "But I say, seems quite to freshen a man up to be able to open his mouth and speak. While you two young gents was swarming up that anchor, and all the time you was aboard till you come back plish, plosh, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I say, Mr Poole, would you like to take these 'ere lines?"

"No," said Poole shortly; "I want to get dry. But why do you want me to take the lines?"

"To get shut of the 'sponsibility, sir. I can't see which way to steer."

"Oh, never mind the steering," cried Fitz. "Just keep her head to the swell, and let's all rest, my lads. I feel so done up that I could go to sleep. We can't do anything till daylight. Here, I say, Camel, did you bring anything to eat?"

"The orders were to bring the rations stowed inside, sir," replied the cook; "but a'm thenking I did slip a wee bit something into the locker for'ard there, juist ahind where ye are sitting, sir. Would you mind feeling? Hech! I never thought of that!"

"Thought of what?" said Fitz.

"Ye've got the ship's carpenter there, and he's got a nose like a cat for feesh. Awm skeart that he smelt it oot in the dairk and it's all gone."

"Haw, haw!" chuckled the carpenter. "You are wrong this time, Andy. I got my smelling tackle all choked up with the stuff the bearings of that gunboat's fan was oiled with--nasty rank stuff like Scotch oil. I don't believe I shall smell anything else for a week."

_Rap_! went the lid of the little locker.

"It's all right, my lads," cried Fitz. "Here, Andy, man, those who hide can find. Come over here and serve out the rations; but I wish we'd got some of your hot prime soup."

"Ay, laddie," said the cook softly, as he obeyed his orders; "it would ha' been juist the thing for such a wetting as you got with your joomp.

Mr Poole, will ye come here too? I got one little tin with enough for you and Mr Poole, and a big one for the lads and mysen. But I'm vairy sorry to say I forgot the saut."

"He needn't have troubled himself about the salt," said Poole softly.

"I should never have missed it. You and I have taken in enough to-night through our pores."

"Yes," said Fitz.--"Splendid, Andy."

"Ah," said the Camel; "I never haud wi' going upon a journey, however short, wi'out something in the way of food."

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

FITZ'S CONSCIENCE p.r.i.c.kS.

Daybreak brought a blank look of amazement into the lads' countenances.

The soft, sweet, bracing air of morning floated from the glorious sh.o.r.e, all cliff and indentation looking of a pearly grey, almost the same tint as the surf that curled over upon the rocks distant about two miles.

A mere glance was directed at the dangerous coast, for every eye was turned seaward, east, north, and south, in search of the gunboat; but she was not to be seen.

"Surely she's not gone down!" cried Fitz.

"Oh, hardly," said Poole; "but it's very puzzling. What do you make of it, b.u.t.ters?"

"Well, sir," said the boatswain, "I'm thinking that like enough she's got upon a rock and stuck fast, while the sharp current has carried us along miles and miles, and quite out of sight."

"But they may have got the screw all right, and gone straight out to sea."

"Nay, sir. Not in the dark. We got them fans too fast; and besides, I don't see no smoke on the sea-line. The steamer leaves a mark that you can see her by many miles away. No, sir, I think I'm right; it's us as has drifted."

"Which way?" said Poole. "North or south?"

"Can't say yet, sir. May be either. South," he added emphatically the next moment.

"How do you know?" cried Fitz.

The boatswain smiled.

"By the colour of the sea, sir," replied the man, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his eyes.

"Look at the water. It isn't bright and clear. It's got the mark of the river in it. Not much, but just enough to show that the current hugs the sh.o.r.e, bringing the river water with it; and there it all is plain enough. Look at them little rocks just showing above the surface.

You watch them a minute, and you'll see we are floating by southward, and we may think ourselves precious lucky that we haven't run upon any of them in the night and been capsized. You see, we have come by two headlands, and we have only got to row back to the north to come sooner or later in sight of landmarks that we know."

"Then give way, my lads," said Fitz; "a fair long steady stroke, for the skipper must be getting terribly uncomfortable about us, Poole, eh?"

"Yes. Pull your best, boys. What do you say, Fitz, to taking an oar each for a bit? I'm chilly, and a good way from being dry."