Then up went his Winchester. There was a heavy report, and the wretched Pedro, straddled with one foot on the ratlines and one on the footrope, spun suddenly round, threw up his hands, and dropped.
Just below him were the crosstrees, and on to these he fell, and, held there, lay senseless with head and feet dangling.
For a moment there was a deadly silence over the ship; then a low, menacing growl of rage rose from the crowd of men on the maindeck.
"Silence there, yew mutinous dogs! Silence, or, sure as my name's Bob Riley, I'll pump some lead into yew!" roared the old man, bringing the gun up to his shoulder again.
As he spoke the canvas began to shake; the helmsman had let the ship run up into the wind. Little wonder if, in the excitement of the moment, Angelino could find no time for glancing at the compass.
In a moment the ship was all aback.
"Darn my dogbasted skin!" raged the old man, turning upon the unfortunate Portuguee. "Hard up thet wheel! Quick, yew infernal lunkhead!"
Then, rushing to the rail, he roared:
"Down from aloft there. On ter the foc's'le head, some er yew. Don' stand gazin' round, yew moon-struck, mongrel crowd o' Bowery slush! Clap on to them weather jib sheets! Let go to loo'ard! Neow, then, round with them fore-yards—round with 'em!"
For a few minutes terrific confusion reigned. Excited men ran hither and thither, braces were thrown off the pins, and a medley of cries resounded over the ship, half drowned in the thunderous clatter of the flapping canvas.