The boy staggered to the side. A grappling iron swung from beneath almost struck him in the face.
He seized the cook's poll-axe, and hacked away at the bulwark. Then he put his shoulder to a carronade and shoved.
"H'all together eave!" whispered the dying cook, and lent a feeble hand.
Over went the carronade with spinning wheels. It caught the boat fair amidships, and broke it up like matchwood.
The boy leaned over. Beneath him in the green and sucking waters amid a litter of wreckage one or two heads showed, swimming faintly.
Pale and panting, he turned.
"I think that's the last, sir," languidly.
The old Commander removed the plug from his mouth.
"There's two things go to make a British seaman," he growled—"guts and gumption. Maybe you've got both, as your father had afoor you. We're like to see e'er the day's out."
He wiped his jack-knife on his breeches, and began to carve his plug again.