“Give way, my lads,” cried Gascoigne, perceiving the other boats still kept their distance ahead of them, which was about a cable’s length.
“Gascoigne, I command the boat,” said Jack, “and I do not wish my men to board without any breath in their bodies—that’s a very unwise plan. A steady pull, my lads, and not too much exertion.”
“By heavens, they’ll take the vessel before we get alongside.”
“Even if they should, I am right, am I not, Mesty?”
“Yes, Massa Easy, you are right—suppose they take vessel without you, they no want you—suppose they want you, you come.” And the negro, who had thrown his jacket off, bared his arm, as if he intended mischief.
The first cutter, commanded by the gunner, now gained upon the launch, and was three boats’-lengths ahead of her when she came alongside. The brig poured in her broadside—it was well directed, and down went the boat.
“Cutter’s sunk,” exclaimed Gascoigne, “by heavens! Give way, my men.”
“Now, don’t you observe, that had we all three been pulling up together, the broadside would have sunk us all?” said Jack, very composedly.
“There’s board in the launch—give way, my men, give way,” said Gascoigne, stamping with impatience.
The reception was evidently warm; by the time that the launch had poured in her men, the second cutter was close under the brig’s quarter—two more strokes and she was alongside; when of a sudden a tremendous explosion took place on the deck of the vessel, and bodies and fragments were hurled up in the air. So tremendous was the explosion, that the men of the second cutter, as if transfixed, simultaneously stopped pulling, their eyes directed to the volumes of smoke which poured through the ports, and hid the whole of the masts and rigging of the vessel.