“The master’s in his cabin: Burke’s in the round-house.”
“Overboard with the master! Let him swim, the preaching swab! But we’ll have need of Burke. Have up the men; I’ll speak to ’em. Haste, Ouvery!”
He made to the quarter-deck as he spoke, while the other went below. Soon was heard the boatswain’s whistle, and the mariners began to come up on deck. Meantime there came a splashing under the stern, and the master swam presently forth within sight. Having gotten his breath, he began to shout threats and imprecations at my brother. But Dick laughed, and shook his finger at him, crying:
“Nay, nay, sweet sir, be not so prodigal with your strength! I warrant you’ll need all of it anon!”
On this, with a last imprecation, the swimmer turned, and incontinently made towards the shore. But the mariners were now gotten all up on deck, and my brother prepared to speak to them.
But no speech was made by him. For a musket-shot rang out on the shore, and some half-dozen men, led by the Captain and the Squire, came forth on the cliff—the Captain shouting and gesticulating with the smoking musket that he held; but our father stood like a man sore stricken, so that it went to my heart to see him. I turned to my brother:
“Go you no further with this,” said I. “Return while yet you may.”
But he did not answer me; he stood staring to windward, and I saw his face set hard. A big ship, flying the flag of St. George, had hove in sight round a bend of the cliff.
Next moment he turned; and, bawling out, “In with the boat!” cried he, “All hands make sail! Up anchor and away!”
There fell a great ado on this, as the mariners went to work to the shrill piping whistle of the boatswain, and the word of command. Soon the cable was hove in, while the seamen sang as they strained at the capstan. Soon the ship began to move, stretching away under her spritsail and topsails to the shore-breeze.