“It’s all over,” groaned Bigley at last, as the sailors seemed for the moment to have mastered the lugger; but just then I saw old Jonas tumble one man over the side into the boat, and another over the bulwark into the water with a great splash, and all the while the sails of the lugger were full, and the little vessel was beginning to move faster and faster through the water.
One of the men in the gig was still holding on by the bulwark as the struggle went on, but I suddenly saw old Jonas bring down a cudgel smartly upon his head, the blow sounding like a sharp rap, when the man fell back, and my father caught and saved him from going overboard.
The next moment there seemed to be a gap between the lugger and the gig, and we could see the heads of three men in the water swimming, and the next minute or two were occupied in dragging them in, two being sailors, and the other the lieutenant, who stood up in the stern-sheets and shook himself.
“Heave to!” he roared after the lugger; “heave to, or we’ll sink you!”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” came in a mocking laugh, that from its hoarse harshness was evidently old Jonas’s, and the lugger heeled over now and began to skim through the water.
“Why, they’re going to run for it,” I cried excitedly.
“But the cutter will sink them,” panted Bigley. “Oh, father, father, why didn’t you take me too?”
“Never mind that, Big,” I cried. “Look, they’re going to row to the cutter.”
For the oars were dipping regularly now as the gig was turned towards the cutter, aboard which there was an evident change. Her main-sail, which had been shaking in the breeze, gradually filled; we saw the stay-sail run up, and the beautiful boat came gliding towards the gig so as to pick her up with her crew before going in pursuit.
“How quickly she sails!” cried Bigley. “Once they’ve got their men on board they’ll go like the wind.”