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About 10 a.m. the Petrel's launch landed the arms and ammunition in question at the Arsenal and no time was lost in distributing the arms among the men who were by this time coming in ever increasing numbers to offer their services to me and expressing their willingness to be armed and assigned for duty at the outposts and on the firing line.
Then the boats parted company, and across the water from the "Petrel's" crew came a verse from one of the Nonsense songs in which the boys delighted. "Oh, Timballoo! how happy we are, We live in a sieve and a crockery jar! And all night long, in the starlight pale, We sail away, with a pea-green sail, And whistle and warble a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong.
Another day they had some cricket, using for a ball a bit of kelp. Under the boats they played draughts; an upturned box serving for table and board, kelp for the black pieces, and sliced potatoes for the white. They were able to get a few petrel's eggs, but digging these out of the nest-holes was wet and muddy work. Each man took so much flour, potatoes and meat which he handed over to the cook.
From her sharply V-ed bow to her delicately molded stern, every line of the trim craft spoke eloquently of the plan of a master-designer who fashioned her with a single purpose speed. "What's the matter I say? You're pulling my nets." Gregory freed his eyes with an effort from the launch to survey its owner. Mascola turned angrily on the leather cushion and glared at the Petrel's deck.
The fair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the Petrel's side. Flinging an arm upward with a careless gesture, and looking straight at the girl, he said quietly: "I am unarmed. May I come aboard your vessel?" Only the slightest trace of the foreigner was discernible in his speech. Dickie Lang nodded. "Come ahead," she said. "Whoever you are, you can speak English at least."
There was a sharp sudden crash as the Petrel's rudder clove its irresistible way through the doomed boat, and a yell of dismay from its occupants, several of whom made a spring at the schooner's taffrail, only to be remorselessly thrust off again.
As she swung out there in the tide, a large unwieldy object which threatened to come in contact with one or other of the many ships and long black screws lying in the river, all of a sudden a little, panting, puffing steamer came alongside and, amidst more shouting, ropes were thrown and she was made fast, while another appeared off the Black Petrel's bows, where the same throwing of ropes took place, but this time for a stout hawser to be fastened to the rope which had come through the air in rings.
Black smoke begins pourin' out of the stack and the engines are tuned up to top speed. All the awnin's are taken in and every flag pulled down. The Agnes proceeds to hump herself, too. "Twelve knots," reports Old Hickory, inspectin' the patent log. "The Captain thinks he can get fourteen out of her. The Petrel's best is sixteen."
Harry grasped his collar, holding his face above the water, and at the same time moving towards the Petrel's hull as rapidly as he could. "Here Bruno, my noble dog! That's right, Smith, get a firm hold on the schooner; we must draw him up, he has fainted; but the boats must be here soon."
Flashing a glance shoreward to determine the Petrel's position she rejoined Gregory and handed him one of the guns. Gregory reached eagerly for the weapon. For the past hour he had been forced to sit by a spectator. Now was a chance to do something. To play a game he knew.