The men pulled the steady man-of-war stroke which discipline had rendered so familiar to them. There was no hurry or nervousness in their movements. Not a man “crabbed his oar,” or lost his stroke, though the race appeared to be for life, certainly for success. Mr. Granger sat in the stern-sheets as calm as a block of marble. His demeanor impressed the men with the belief that he knew what he was about. They had confidence in him, and were ready to run or fight as ordered, without asking a question or suggesting a doubt. If this was not time of all the blue-jackets, it certainly was of all but Grummet; and he growled more from the force of habit than from want of confidence in his officers. After the boats had pulled a short distance, the order was given for the rowers to lie on their oars. The commander of the expedition kept one eye on the smoke-stack of the steamer; and as soon as she swung round, and headed towards the north side of the island, he was ready to develop his next movement. “Give way with a will!” said he, as he gave orders to his cockswain in what direction to steer. The boats were headed round the south end of the island, while the Wizard was going round the north end. “Clear away your guns forward!” said Mr. Granger. Old Grummet sprang to the howitzer in the first cutter. A grim smile lighted up his face as he adjusted the tackle, and put the piece in condition for instant use. Tom Longstone was with him, and the most perfect harmony now subsisted between them. While they were thus engaged, the officer in each boat detailed seven men to act as “boarders.” “Now, Jack, my beauty, you are goin’ to see some fightin’,” said Tom, when the gun was ready for use. “That’s so, Tom; and I’m in for my share of it.” “So you be, Jack. I see you’ve got a cutlash.” “I’m one of the boarding-party.” “Now, stand right up to it, Jack, like a man.” “Oh! you needn’t be afraid of me. I’ve got my hand in already,” replied Jack, as he glanced at the weapon he carried. “Yes, and you’ll be butchered like a young pig,” sneered old Grummet. “It’s worse nor murder to send little boys like that to board the lubbers on the island. Why don’t he send men as is fit for such work?” “You needn’t have any fears about me, Grummet. I’ll do my share of the work: if I don’t, you may call me a marine.” “You’re a good boy enough, my lad; but you aren’t no more fit for such work than the Evil Sperit is for a missionary,” added Grummet more graciously. “All ready forward?” said Mr. Granger. “All ready, sir!” answered Grummet, who was acting as captain of the gun. The boats were now rounding the end of the island; and a few more strokes of the oars brought them to a point where the officers could see the gun on shore, and the men who were putting it in position for use. “Give way with a will!” shouted Mr. Granger, as he passed forward to the howitzer in the bow of the cutter.