"Of course not," said the Resurrection Man. "Well, then—we are all friends here?" asked Swot, glancing around him. "All," replied Tidkins. "This is my mate's wife; she answers to the name of Moll, and is stanch to the back-bone." "Well and good," said Swot. "Now I've as pretty a little idea in my head as ever was born there; but it requires two or three daring—I may say _desperate_ fellers to carry it out." "You couldn't come to a better shop for them kind of chaps," remarked the Buffer. "And if it's necessary, I'll deuced soon dress myself up like a lighterman and help you," added Moll. "I am very much pleased with your pluck, ma'am," said Mr. Swot; "and I drink to your excellent health—and our better acquaintance." Mr. Swot emptied his mug at a draught, lighted a pipe, and then continued thus:— "But now, my fine fellers, s'pose I was to start some scheme which is about as dangerous as walking slap into a house on fire to get the iron safe that's full of gold and silver?" "Well—we're the men to do it," said Tidkins. "That is," observed the Buffer, "if so be the inducement is equal to the risk." "Of course," returned Mr. Swot. "Now one more question:—would you sleep in the same room with a man who had the cholera or the small-pox, for instance—supposing you got a thousand pounds each to do it?" "I would in a minute," answered the Resurrection Man. "Nothing dare, nothing have." "So I say," added the Buffer. "And you wouldn't find me flinch!" cried Moll. "Now, then, we shall soon understand each other," resumed Swot, helping himself to another supply of grog. "Please to listen to me for a few minutes. A very fine schooner, the _Lady Anne_ of London, trades to the Gold and Slave Coasts of Guinea. She takes out woollens, cottons, linen, arms, and gunpowder, which she exchanges for gold dust, ivory, gums, and hides. A few days since, as she was beating up the Channel, homeward bound with a fine cargo, something occurs that makes it necessary for her to run for the Medway, instead of coming direct up to London. But the night before last it blew great guns, as you may recollect; and as she was but indifferently manned, she got out in her reckoning—for it was as dark as pitch—and ran ashore between the mouth of the Medway and Gravesend. Now, there she lies—and there she's likely to lie. She got stranded during spring-tide; and she does not float now even at high water. The gold dust would be very acceptable; the gums, ivory, hides, and such like matters, may stay where they are." "Then the fact is the owners haven't yet moved out the cargo?" said the Resurrection Man, interrogatively. "No—nor don't intend to, neither—for the present," answered Swot. "And what's more, there's a police-boat pulling about in that part of the river all day and all night; but I can assure you that it gives the schooner a precious wide berth." "Well, I can't understand it yet," said the Buffer.