Chapter Thirty Three.
The Cat did it.
The quivering continued, and the earth beneath the vessel throbbed in slow pulsations. The vivid flashes and thunderous growls as of distant explosions went on, and the rushing sound of many feet came nearer and nearer as the occupants of the brig strained their eyes to pierce the transparent darkness to get a glance of their enemies, and then all stood wondering; for after rising to a certain pitch, the rushing sound began to die away gradually. Then followed a vivid flash and a heavy boom as of some huge gun, and as it died away they were conscious of a stillness that was terrible in its oppression, the quivering beneath their feet ceased, and then startling and clear, from right away to the westward, came the piercing note of the boatswain’s pipe.
“Drew!” cried Oliver, joyously.
“Yes, that’s he,” said the mate, “and he wants help. There, take charge of the deck, Mr Panton. I must go and bring him. Volunteers here: six men.”
Twelve sprang to his side, and he selected half a dozen, all well armed and ready to face anything.
As they moved to the gangway where others held the ladder ready for them to descend, the shrill note of the whistle was heard again.
“Draw up the ladder as soon as we’re down, my lads,” said the mate, “and stand ready to make a rush to help us when we come back, for we may be hard pressed.”
“Ay, ay!” came readily from the rest of the crew, and the next minute the little rescue party was off at a trot, leaving Oliver Lane and Panton feverish and excited as they writhed in their weakness and misery at being compelled to lie there inert, unable to stir a step to the help of their companion.