“The first question I shall ask you,” Death-wing began, “is, do you know where Wildfire Ned is? if you do not confess, your arms shall be—”
At that instant, a loud booming noise was heard, and not far off either.
Every one rose to his feet.
In a second after an eighteen-pound cannon shot came crushing through the bulwarks!
“Treachery!” Death-wing cried.
Bang! crash! were the sounds repeated.
“Every one to his post!”
Whiz—bang! came another shot, and almost frightened off all the hair from Tim’s head, as he stood tied to the mast, and unable to move.
“Who are they? Can you make them out?” shouted out Death-wing to his crew.
“A frigate is bearing down to windward of us.”