, but now it's as if I was never so young before, and that it
is too much for chaps like us to understand such a thing."

"Then if we are both like that," said Poole sadly, "I suppose we ought
to be honest and go straight to the dad and tell him that we don't feel
up to it. What do you say?"

"What!" cried Fitz. "Go and tell him coolly that we are a pair of
cowardly boys, for him and Mr Burgess to laugh at, and the men--for
they'd be sure to hear--to think of us always afterwards as a pair of
curs? I'd go and be killed first! And so would you; so don't tell me
you wouldn't."

"Not going to," said Poole. "I'll only own up that I'm afraid of the
job; but as we've proposed it, and it would be doing so much good if we
were to succeed, I mean to go splash at it and carry it through to the
end. You will too, won't you?"

"Yes, of course."

There was a slight rustling sound then, caused by the two lads reaching
towards one another and joining hands in a long firm grip.

"Hah!" exclaimed Fitz, with a long-drawn expiration of the breath. "I'm
glad I've got that off my mind. I feel better now."

"Same here. Now, what shall we do next? Go and talk to old Butters and
tell him what we want him to do?"

"No," cried Fitz excitedly. "You forget that we are in command. We've
no business to do anything till the time comes, and then give the men
their orders sharp and short, as if we were two skippers."

"Ah, yes," said Poole, "that's right. That's what I want to do, only it
seems all so new."

"I tell you what, though," said Fitz. "We shall be going for hours and
hours without getting anything, and that'll make us done up and weak. I
vote that as we are to do as we like, we go and stir up the Camel and
tell him to send us in a nice meal to the cabin."

"But it isn't long since we had something," suggested Poole.

"Yes, but neither of us could eat nor enjoy it. I couldn't, and I was
watching you; but I feel that I could eat now, so come on. It'll help
to pass the time, and make us fit to do anything."

"All right," said Poole, and they fetched Andy from where he was sitting
forward talking in whispers with his messmates, told him what they
wanted, and ordered him to prepare a sort of tea-supper for the little
crew of the gig.

The Camel was ready enough, and within half-an-hour the two lads were
doing what Poole termed stowing cargo, the said cargo consisting of
rashers of prime fried ham, cold bread-cake