"Oh, I'll help you," said Fitz. "But I am afraid my help won't be of much use." "The same here," said Poole. "Ditto and ditto." "Then I shall do it, sir," cried the carpenter confidently. "Of course," cried Fitz. "But that gunboat must be very heavy. How shall you go to work?" The carpenter gave a sharp look round, and then said in a low confidential tone-- "A deal too heavy, sir, for us to lift her. The only way to do is to make her lift herself." "How?" "Taking out of her everything that can be moved; guns first, then shot and shell, and laying them overboard outside upon the rocks, ready for hoisting in again at low water when she's afloat. Next thing I should do would be to find out whether she's got any holes in her, and if she hasn't--and I don't believe she has, for there's been no storm to bump her on the rocks--then I shall pump her dry, have her fires got up, and at high water full steam ahead, and if she don't come off then I'm a double Dutchman." "But what about the screw?" "Them as hides can find, sir, which means them as tie can untie. I think we can get her off, sir, if we put our backs into it. What say you?" "Get her off?" cried Fitz. "Of course we will!" CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. BOARDING THE GUNBOAT. That evening, followed by a heterogeneous fleet of about twenty small vessels crammed with fighting men, the _Teal_ sailed again, and their time of arrival was so contrived that dawn of the next morning but one found the little fleet in delightfully calm weather forming a semi-circle from one point of the shore to the other, the focus of its radius being formed by the gunboat on the rocks. The plans had been made on the voyage, and as there was plenty of water for every vessel but the schooner, the latter's boats, well filled with men, alone accompanied the rest. It was an attack, but no defence, for as soon as the crew of the gunboat realised the formidable nature and numbers of the expedition, they took to the boats to try and escape to the shore. But the cliffs forbade this, and after another attempt or two to get away, all surrendered and gave up their arms, ready, as had been predicted, to begin cheering Don Ramon, the officers as they gave up their swords humbly asking to be allowed to retain their positions under the new Government, for there seemed to be a general acceptation of the fact now that the petty war was at an end. Don Ramon's answer to this was to accept the services of the officers and the best of the men. The rest were boated off to the mouth of the river and set ashore. "Ornamental, I call it," said Chips, as he sat forward in one of the schooner's boats commanded by Poole, in which, as a matter of course, Fitz had taken his place. "What is, Chips?" said Poole. "Do you mean your head?"