"I bet they'll see us. If they don't before, they will after we've fixed up that red light. The trawlers are going to sweep through behind us, and that light's to guide 'em," and the Sub smote the table with his great clenched fist. "What price that for a good night's work? Better than boarding ships in the North Sea, eh?"
"Right in under the fort we'll have to go?" asked the Orphan, his breath still rather short; "and right in under all those guns along the beach?"
"Right in, my jumping Orphan! Rifle range! pistol range! biscuit range! The _Swiftsure's_ coming in to have a bang at "Peeping Tom" and his pal. My jumping O.! what a job!"
"When d'we shove off?" asked the Orphan, his eyes blazing.
"Seven o'clock--seven sharp. You bring the grub--shark sandwiches--and a couple bottles of beer. You're not rattled, my young Orphan?" he said, springing up and clutching the midshipman's shoulders.
As a matter of fact the Orphan was rather taken aback, and though he did his best to look frightfully happy, it was not an absolute success.
The Sub altered his voice. "Look here. Those confounded trawler fellows have done their job two days running, under heavy shell-fire, whilst we've been behind armour. It's time we showed them the way--understand? It's our turn to-night, yours and mine."
"I'm all right," the Orphan said. "It was rather a startler, that's all. I'd been getting up a sing-song, and we were going to court martial the China Doll."
"Warn your boat's crew," the Sub continued, perfectly satisfied and absolutely happy. "Tell 'em to take some grub."
"How about old Fletcher?" the Orphan asked. "He's rather old for the job."
"You know him best. Sound him. Off you go!"
So Fletcher was sent for and told all that was going to happen.
"If you'd rather a younger man----" the Orphan began, not knowing how to best say what he meant.
"Me, sir! Don't leave me behind. I'm as strong as a horse," the old stoker broke in.
"Right oh! The boat will be 'turned out' about six-thirty. Don't forget to bring some grub."
"I won't, sir, thank you," and Fletcher went for'ard.
"I don't think we'll court-martial the China Doll after all," the Orphan said when he went back to the gun-room.
"Oh! Rather! What rot! Of course we will! Mustn't we, China Doll?" the others cried.