"Yes, I understand; and there's no ramming in from the muzzle as with the old-fashioned guns." "Exactly," said Fitz, growing more and more excited as he spoke. "And you know now what a tremendously dangerous weapon a great gun like that is." "Yes, my lad," said Poole carelessly; "of course I do. But it's no good." "What's no good?" said Fitz sharply. "You are as bad as Chips. If we got on board we couldn't disable that gun, or get her to the side. She'd be far too heavy to move." "Yes," said Fitz, with his eyes brightening, and he gripped his companion more tightly than ever. "But what's the most important part of a gun like that?" "Why, the charge, of course." "No," cried Fitz; "the breech-block. Suppose I, or you and I, got on board some night in the dark, unscrewed the breech, lifted out the block, and dropped it overboard. What then?" Poole started, and gripped his companion in turn. "Why," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "they couldn't fire the gun. The charge would come out at both ends." "To be sure it would." "Well--Oh, I don't know," said Poole, trembling with excitement; "I should muddle it. I don't understand a gun like that." "No," cried Fitz; "but I do." "Here," panted Poole; "come along aft." "What are you going to do?" "Do! Why, tell my governor, of course! Oh, Burnett, old fellow, you'll be the saving of us all!" The lad's emotion communicated itself to the proposer of the plan, and neither of them could speak as they climbed back on to the deck, and, seeing nothing before their eyes but breech-loaders, hurried off, to meet Mr Burgess just coming out of the cabin-hatch. "Is father below there?" cried Poole huskily. "Yes; just left him," grunted the mate, as he stared hard at the excited countenances of the two lads. "Anything the matter?" "Yes. Quick!" cried Poole. "Come on down below." The skipper looked up from the log he was writing as his son flung open the cabin-door, paused for the others to enter, and then shut it after them with a bang which made the skipper frown. "Here, what's this, sir?" he said sternly, as he glanced from one to the other. "Oh, I see; you two boys have been quarrelling, and want to fight. Well, wait a little, and you'll have enough of that. Now, Mr Burnett, speak out. What is it? Have you and my son been having words?" "Yes, father," half shouted Poole, interposing--"such words as will make you stare. Tell him, Burnett, all that you have said." The skipper and the mate listened in silence, while Poole watched the play of emotion their faces displayed, before the skipper spoke. "Splendid, my lad!" he cried. "But it sounds too good to be true. You say you understand these guns?" "Yes, sir; I have often stood by to watch the drill, and seen blank cartridge fired again and again." "But the breech-block? Could it be lifted out?" "It could aboard the _Tonans_, sir, and I should say that this would be about the same."