A water-way had led from decoy-pond to sea. The sea had gone back and left the water-way and pond high and dry. Sixty years back a sly old sea-dog had built this lonely cottage over the pond. He had covered the water-way and made a drain of it. Thus he had secured a secret passage to the sea, and the cottage had become the receiving depôt of Ruxley's crew. "Where does it lead to?" asked the boy, all eyes. "Out into the creek we crossed on the way to the Wish." "And how many people know about it?" "Three. One's you; one's me; one's the son of the man who built the cottage--and that's old Piper down below there.... It's not been used for forty years. The sea went back and back, and the creek's been dry these years past." Kit's knees invited him to prayer. This was not chance; it was not coincidence. "You're right, sir," said the boy chokily. "He's in it." "And what's more He's going to get us out," replied the Parson, cheerfully matter-of-fact. The boy was slipping off his coat. "I'd better start at once. There's not a second to lose. Nelson may sail this evening." The Parson laid a kind hand on the lad's shoulder. "The boy's as greedy for glory as Nelson himself," he laughed. "But the Navy can't do it _all_, you know. Give _us_ a chance.... When we've got the best pair of legs South of Thames trained to a tick, and fighting mad for their chance, we may as well use em." Kit gasped. "Nipper Knapp!" and added in a flash, "May I go with him, sir?" "To the mouth of the drain," said the Parson. "No further." II He turned about. "Blob, come here. Keep a sharp look-out at this window, and give a holloa if anything stirs. You can sing em a little song, if you know one to keep em quiet." He slid down into the twilight of the kitchen. There only the old foretop-man was to be seen, patient at his post of watch. "Where's Knapp, Piper?" "Why, sir, in the cellar. Wanted to be alone with his trouble, I reck'n. Tarrabul down-earted, the poor lad be." "I'll cheer him up," cried the Parson, and disappeared through an open trap-door into the night beneath. "Nipper Knapp! Nipper Knapp, my boy!" In two minutes he was back. Knapp was at his heel, sparring playfully at the back of the other's head. True, for the broken heart there is no such cure as action or the hope of it. As they emerged into the twilight of the kitchen a voice, pure as a rivulet's, poured down in song upon them from above. From outside came a gust of laughter, and then a roaring chorus. "By the Lord!" thundered the Parson. "It's The Doxie's Daughter." "And the Gap Gang singing choir!" said Piper grimly. "Likely it'll be the only hymn they knaw." "One moment, Master Blob!" muttered the Parson between clenched teeth. "I'll swab that boy's soul clean if I have to do it with a scrubbing-brush.... Now, Knapp, ready yourself, while I write a note to the Commandant." Knapp tore off his coat, and began to fight an exhibition battle with a ghost in the corner.