Hardly knowing whether I was standing on my head or on my heels for joy, I dived down below and started packing my chest; but I need not have been in such a hurry, for the Commander sent his messenger to tell me to take only what I could carry, so I had to be content with Dumpling’s leather bag again. He certainly did have jolly good bags. I managed to shove in most of the cake, after chopping off a big chunk, which I hid in Toddles’s locker, and another, which I gave the coxswain of the picket-boat as a surprise for Mellins. I saw him hide it among some oily rags, so I guessed that old Mellins would never find it. It was simply ripping getting back to "No. 3" again—Mr. Parker, Mr. Chapman the Engineer, and Collins the Sub all jolly pleased to see me, and Pat Jones too. The only thing wanting was Toddles, and I had not the heart to say good-bye to him, but left him snoring in his hammock—he’d had the middle watch. The Commander came across to "No. 3" with me, and when he was aboard we took the picket-boat and second cutter in tow and steamed slowly inshore towards the island, not straight for the entrance, but some way past the place where the two pirate torpedo-boats had run ashore, making a great sweeping circle in order not to come under fire from the forts. We towed the picket-boat in order to save her coal. As soon as we were close to the land and beyond that projecting corner of which I have told you, and which hid us from the forts, we cast off the boats, the Commander going away in the cutter and the picket-boat taking her in tow. They went as close inshore as possible, creeping slowly along, away from the entrance, and examining the rocks bit by bit, whilst we kept abreast of them ready to open fire if the Chinese did any rifle-shooting from the cliffs. It was not particularly exciting work, and as far as we could see from "No. 3", there was not a single place up which a cat could climb. It was not till the afternoon that we saw anything approaching a beach, and even that had perpendicular cliffs behind it covered with brushwood. They must have been dead tired in the boats, but the Commander still kept at it, standing up in the stern-sheets of the cutter jotting down notes, taking sketches, and reading off angles on his sextant. Then, however, we got round to the back of the island. The shore here was low, but too high for us to see over it into the harbour, and just as we caught sight of the little channel running out there, a crowd of ragged ruffians showed up and began peppering away at the boats. We let into them with our 12-pounder on the bridge, found the range with our second shot, and sent them scurrying like rabbits to cover, followed by a man on a shaggy pony, who cantered slowly after them. "D’ you recognize your friend?" asked Mr. Parker, handing me his telescope. Sure enough, it was the black-bearded man who had fought so splendidly on board that destroyer. I recognized him at once.