"Ay, ay, my lad," was the reply, and they seemed to slip on into the black darkness which rose before them like a wall, while overhead, like a deep purple band studded with gold, the sky stretched from cliff to cliff of the deep ravine through which the river ran. "Now, Poole," said Fitz suddenly, speaking in a low voice, almost a whisper, "you had better say a word or two to Mr Butters about the work we are on." "No," replied Poole; "it was your idea, and you're accustomed to take command of a boat, so you had better speak, for the boatswain and the carpenter ought to know. The other men will have nothing to do but manage the gig--" "Hah!" ejaculated the boatswain, in a deep sigh, while Chips, who had heard every word, only gave vent to a sniff. Fitz coughed slightly, as if troubled with something that checked his breath. "Then look here, Mr Butters," he said quickly; "we're off to disable the gunboat yonder, and do two things." "Good!" came like a croak. "First thing is to foul the screw." There was another croak, followed by-- "Lay that there cable so that she tangles herself up first time she turns. That's one." Fitz coughed again slightly. "You will run the boat up in silence, the 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.