But their despondency in the boat was only of a minute’s duration, for the wind dropped as suddenly as it had risen, the cutter ceased to glide onward with the water rattling and splashing beneath her bows, the jib shivered and hung motionless, and a cheer arose from the pursuers as the firing recommenced.
“Be ready, Bart,” said Abel, with a lurid look in his eyes, as he once more levelled his piece. “You, Dinny, are you going to help?”
“No,” said the sailor. “It’s piracy and murder if you shoot them, Dinny Kelly, and it’s fair-play if they shoot you.”
“Yis, it is awkward,” said Dinny; “but Oi’m thinking I don’t want to go back and be on senthry again, and there, Oi’ll make a compromise of it. I won’t shoot, but I’m mak’ believe, and frecken ’em.”
As he spoke he lay down on the deck and took aim at the occupants of the coming boat, whose position was extremely perilous, while the sides of the cutter sheltered those on board.
“Keep back!” roared Abel, as the boat neared them fast. “We’re loaded with ball, not shot.”
There was a momentary indecision on the part of the overseer, and it was instantly communicated to the men, for they ceased to paddle, while the two principals bent forward and spoke earnestly.
“No, they will not dare,” said the overseer, loudly. “Go on, my lads! Surrender, you dogs, or you shall all be hung.”
The boat was urged through the water again, and the overseer raised his fowling-piece, took aim, and was about to fire, when the officer with him laid his hand upon his arm.
“Wait,” he said. “Then both fire together, close in, and board.”