The gig swung round as the men bent in their quick steady pull, and they began to ascend the stream once more, while Fitz rose in his place, to look back watching the half-obscured gunboat till they had swept round the bend once more and she was out of sight, when he re-seated himself and noticed that the mate was still standing, intent upon cautiously taking cartridges from his pouch and thrusting them into the chambers of the revolver which he had drawn from the holster of his belt. This looked like business, and Fitz turned to dart an inquiring look at his companion, who answered it with a nod. "Well," thought Fitz, "if he thinks we are going to have a fight before we get back, why doesn't he order his men to load?" But it proved that the mate did not anticipate a fight before they got back. He had other thoughts in his head, and when at last, after a long and anxious row against the sharp current, with the lads constantly looking back to see if the gunboat's men were within sight, they reached the final zigzag, and caught sight of the schooner, old Burgess raised his hand and fired three shots at the face of the towering cliff. These three were echoed back as about a score, when there was an interval, and three tiny puffs of grey smoke darted from the schooner's deck, and echoed in their turn. "Signal answered," said Poole quietly, and the men made their ash-blades bend again in their eagerness to get back aboard. "Why, what have they been about?" whispered Fitz. "Looks like going fishing," said Poole, with a grin. "Don't chaff at a time like this," cried Fitz pettishly. "I didn't know that you had got boarding-netting like a man-of-war." "What, don't you remember the night you came aboard?" "Not likely, with everything knocked out of my head as it was." "Oh yes, we've got all these little necessaries. Father goes on the Volunteer system: `Defence, not Defiance.'" "Well, that's defiant enough," said Fitz. "It's like saying, `You're not coming aboard here,' in string." "Of course. You don't suppose we want a set of half Indian, half Spanish mongrel sailors taking possession of the _Teal_? You wait till we get aboard, and you'll see all our lads busy with the fleas." "Busy with the fleas?" said Fitz. "What do you mean?" "Those father talked about, to put in the Don's ears before we send them back." "How can you go on making poor jokes at a time like this?" said the middy, in a tone of annoyance. "Why, it looks as if we are in for a serious fight." "As if _we_ are!" said Poole, emphasising the "we." "How many more times am I to tell you that it is our game and not yours?" "But look here," said Fitz excitedly. "Your father really does mean to fight?" "My father does, and so does every one else," replied Poole. "In oars, my lads," and the next moment the mate hooked on close to the gangway. "I suppose," continued Poole, "you will stop on deck till the row begins? You will want to see all you can."