The feelings of Courtenay were not enviable. He upbraided himself for having, by his want of prudence, lost the vessel, and sacrificed the lives of the two midshipmen and five seamen who had the watch on deck. The party below consisted of Courtenay, Peter and Paul, Billy Pitt, and five seamen; and a consultation was held as to their proceedings. To regain the vessel and avenge the death of their shipmates, or to perish in the attempt, was the determination of the lieutenant. He was aware that the French had no firearms; and, amply supplied as they were, he would have cared little for their numbers if once on deck; but how to get on deck was the problem. To set fire to the vessel, and rush up in the flames,—to scuttle her,—or to blow her up, and all go down together, were each proposed and agitated.
Peter’s plan was considered as the most feasible. He suggested, that one half of the cabin table, which was divided in two, should be placed upon the other, so as to raise it up to the coamings of the skylight-hatch; on the upper table to place a pound or two of powder, which, from the ascending principle of explosion, would blow off the skylight and grating without injuring the vessel below. Then, with their muskets loaded and bayonets fixed, to jump on the table, and from thence, if possible, gain the deck. This was agreed to, and the preparations were well forward, when the report of Jerry’s musket was heard—another succeeded, and they were perplexed. Had the Frenchmen firearms?—and if so, what could they be firing at? The falling of the bodies on deck, and the indistinct curses of the Frenchmen, puzzled them even more. “What can it be?” observed Courtenay.
“I recollect now,” said Paul, “as I lay awake I saw young devil-skin pass my bed with a musket—I wondered what it was for.”
“Then, probably, he has gained the rigging with it, and is safe,” cried Courtenay, intuitively. “Be quick! Where’s the powder? Take that candle further off.”
The train was laid as the muskets continued to be discharged; they removed from the cabin;—it was fired, and the skylight was blown up, killing the Frenchman who guarded the hatchway, at the very moment that the Frenchmen were in the rigging, puzzled with the manoeuvres of Seymour and the escape of Jerry.
Courtenay and his party rushed into the cabin, mounted the table, and were on deck before the smoke had cleared away: and the Frenchmen, who had not had time to descend the rigging, were at their mercy. Mercy they were not entitled to. They had shown none to the unarmed English, whom they had wantonly thrown into the sea when they had overpowered them, and were now thirsting for the blood of the two boys. No mercy was shown to them. As they dropped one by one from the rigging wounded or dead, they were tossed into the wave, as an expiatory sacrifice to the manes of the murdered Englishmen. In a few minutes the carnage was over. Seymour and Jerry descended from their little fortalice aloft, and were warmly greeted by their friends as they reached the deck.
“Really, Mr Paul,” said Jerry, shaking his proffered hand, “this is quite an unexpected pleasure.”
“Well, I never thought that I could possibly like you,” answered the other.
“Well,” observed Jerry, “it has quite stopped my growth.”
“But not your tongue, I hope,” replied Peter; “that would be a pity. Now explain to us how it all happened.”