sharpened and pistols cleaned. Not less was the excitement in the
midshipmen's berth, where it was known that Simmonds was to go in the
gig; but no one knew who was to accompany the launch. However, Jack
turned out to be the lucky one, Mr. Pascoe being probably glad to
please the first lieutenant by selecting his relation, although that
officer would not himself have shown favoritism on his behalf.

It was about eleven o'clock when the "Falcon" approached her former
position, or rather to a point a mile seaward of it as nearly as the
master could bring her, for the night was extremely dark and the land
scarcely visible. Not a light was shown, not a voice raised on board,
and the only sound heard was the gentle splash of the paddles as they
revolved at their slowest rate of speed. The falls had been greased,
the rowlocks muffled, and the crew took their places in perfect
silence.

"You understand, Mr. Hethcote," were Captain Stuart's last words,
"that you are not to attempt a landing if there is the slightest
opposition."

Very quietly the boats left the "Falcon's" side. They rowed abreast
and close to each other, in order that the first lieutenant could give
orders to Mr. Pascoe in a low tone. The men were ordered to row
quietly, and to avoid any splashing or throwing up of water. It was a
longer row than they had expected, and it was evident that the master,
deceived by the uncertain light, had brought the vessel up at a point
considerably farther from the shore than he had intended. As they got
well in the bay they could see no lights in the village ahead; but an
occasional gleam near the points at either side showed that the men in
the batteries were awake and active. As the boat neared the shore the