turn as quietly as
if everything were silk, and then there's a great piece that they call
the breech-block, which is lifted out, and then you can stand and look
right through the great polished barrel as if it were a telescope, while
all inside is grooves, screwed as you may say, so that the great bolt or
shell when it is fired is made to spin round, which makes it go
perfectly straight."

"Well, yes, I think I knew a good deal of that," said Poole, almost
grudgingly.

"Well, you know," continued Fitz excitedly, "perhaps you don't know that
when they are going to fire, the gun is unscrewed and the breech-block
is lifted out. Then you can look through her; the shell or bolt and the
cartridge are pushed in, the solid breech-block is dropped in behind
them, and the breech screwed up all tightly once again."

"Yes, I understand; and there's no ramming in from the muzzle as with
the old-fashioned guns."

"Exactly," said Fitz, growing more and more excited as he spoke. "And
you know now what a tremendously dangerous weapon a great gun like that
is."

"Yes, my lad," said Poole carelessly; "of course I do. But it's no
good."

"What's no good?" said Fitz sharply.

"You are as bad as Chips. If we got on board we couldn't disable that
gun, or get her to the side. She'd be far too heavy to move."

"Yes," said Fitz, with his eyes brightening, and he gripped his
companion more tightly than ever. "But what's the most important part
of a gun like that?"

"Why, the charge, of course."

"No," cried Fitz; "the breech-block. Suppose I, or you and I, got on
board some night in the dark, unscrewed the breech, lifted out the
block, and dropped it overboard. What then?"

Poole started, and gripped his companion in turn.

"Why," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "they couldn't fire the gun. The
charge would come out at both ends."

"To be sure it would."

"Well--Oh, I don't know," said Poole, trembling with excitement; "I
should muddle it. I don't understand a gun like that."

"No," cried Fitz; "but I do."

"Here," panted Poole; "come along aft."

"What are you going to do?"

"Do! Why, tell my governor, of course! Oh, Burnett, old fellow, you'll
be the saving of us all!"

The lad's emotion communicated itself to the proposer of the plan, and
neither of them could speak as they climbed back on to the deck, and,
seeing nothing before their eyes but breech-loaders, hurried off, to
meet Mr Burgess just coming out