That something brewed in the way of a storm did not require a barometer or the eye of a seaman to determine, so I insisted upon speeding up preparations for the landing force. This met the approval of all, since the skipper thought it likely that we could be put ashore and the _Whim_ get well on her way back to Big Cove before the disturbance came. While we ate a hasty supper, therefore, Bilkins saw that the things we should want were stored in the small boat: food, ammunition, canvas for a lean-to, matches, utensils of sundry kinds--in fact, the necessaries. He had attended to my camping outfits before, and possessed a genius for knowing what to include. Only when this was under way, and the mate had thrice assured Gates of his ability to navigate the _Whim_ on her ticklish course down the coast, did the old captain feel satisfied to join us at table. He brought with him a large chart that he pinned to the wall and, nodding to it as he tucked a napkin under his chin, said: "You should take that, sir. It shows scarce more'n the shore line, but the shore's where you'll be, and not far inland. Here's Little Cove," he touched the spot with his fork. "In harf an hour we'll lay outside it, not being able to get in, and there we'll anchor to put you off. Who'll you be taking with you, sir?" "Tommy and I thought we'd make a sort of reconnoissance first, and Bilkins says he wants to go as cook," I answered. "In a day or two, weather permitting, we'll sail the small boat up to Big Cove for a council of war." "Well, sir," he said, shaking his head, "just go slow, that's all I arsk. Don't start anything. There's no use two young fellows kicking up a racket without their friends, that's what I say. So just poke around, but keep out of sight; learn all you want, but don't start anything. If you carn't learn it all, be satisfied with harf; then the rest of us will take that and make a whole of it in no time. Am I right, Professor?" "You are right, _mon Capitaine_, if they will mind you. But will they? A chance comes for to--what my boy Tommy calls plug--that old sinner, and so they will jump to a fight. Fight! Bah! How many fools give a life for one who cannot give a reason!" "There's reason enough here," Tommy laughed. "But we'll promise to be careful, if that satisfies you." When at last we dropped anchor half a mile outside the entrance of Little Cove our deck became active. I went off first with the supplies to choose a spot where they should be stored, although in such a black night this might have been left haphazard to the men. But one never believes, on occasions so momentous as pitching camp, that others know a jot about it but oneself--to this there are practically no exceptions.