[VI]
THE PIRATE SHIP
It was small wonder that the passengers on the Lyon were almost paralyzed with terror. They were not soldiers, nor accustomed to taking the part of soldiers, and they were not fighting upon a battlefield, distant from their loved ones, but close to them where the danger threatened alike themselves and all they held dear. The fact made them at once more courageous and more terrified.
It was known by all that powder was short and that the accuracy of the next shot would probably decide their fate. Their hands grew more and more awkward, their cheeks whiter. Conrad and Peter sprang to their feet, seeing plainly the panic on the faces of the gunners who were trying to reload the cannon, and upon the faces of the others who stood, saber or pistol in hand, waiting for what seemed to be certain destruction. One frightened soul fired his pistol prematurely, another waved his saber wildly in the air. If the freebooters saw, they must have anticipated an easy victory.
"If we only had pistols!" cried Peter shrilly.
The captain shouted fierce orders, and still the gunners fumbled at their task.
Now Conrad ran to the captain's side. A wild plan had suddenly occurred to him.
"We could play," cried he breathlessly, "Peter and I. There was a trumpeter on a castle wall who played and played till—"
"Play, then!"