Half an hour passed in this way, when they heard the sound of the boat alongside and the Captain´s voice shouting to get the mainsail set. Presently he burst into the cabin, his face all glowing with excitement and his small blue eyes dancing in his head. He ran forward and caught Gervase in both his arms, “It´s come at last, dear lad, ´tis come at last. Your speech hath done it, and we´ll moor by the quay to-night with the blessing of God. This is no time for books, McKeller, no time for books. The Lord be praised! We´re up the river in an hour. Browning and myself and the old _Dartmouth_, with Leake to give us the lead.” Gervase and McKeller were on their feet shaking one another by the hand. They could hardly believe the good news. Then, overcome by his feelings so long pent up, Gervase burst into tears and sobbed aloud. The captain stood aghast, but the mate laid his hand on the young fellow´s shoulder and said with rugged kindliness: “I like you all the better for your tears, Mr. Orme; you have shown that you can do a man´s work, with a man´s heart under your jacket; ´twill do you good,--rain on the parched grass, as the book has it. Now, you old sea dog, what are you staring at? Go on with your story and let us know what we have to do.” “I´ll clap you in irons for a rank mutineer,” laughed the captain. “Lord love you, when I got aboard Kirke was like a lamb; not a damn in him, but all ‘By your leave´ and ‘At your pleasure´. The council of officers had resolved to attack the passage that afternoon, the wind and the tide being favourable, and the messenger, that being you, Mr. Orme, having brought news that rendered their instant moving imperative, and more stuff of that kind. I could have laughed in his face, but for the cruel white and red in his eye. I don´t like a man to have too much white in his eye.” “Go on with your story.” The _Dartmouth_ goes first, and draws the fire at Culmore; we go on with what speed we can till we get to the barrier. That must give way by hook or crook, and then up the river. A good day´s work, I´m thinking, but the little _Phoenix_ will do her share if Andrew Douglas be alive to see it." “With the help of God we´ll all see it,” cried the mate. “This will be a great day for all of us.” “Serve out a measure of rum to every man-jack on board, and get under way with all the haste ye can. In a quarter of an hour ye´ll see the little _Phoenix_ slipping through the water like a seagull. Come, Mr. Orme, and lend a hand with the weapons. I take it you are well used to them.”