“No, ill—for them; she’s completely fast ashore in the midst of a regular wilderness of rocks that hardly peep above the surface; and as far as I could make out with my spyglass, they are not likely to get off again. They seem to know it too, for when I began to come down they had got three boats manned on the other side, and I left them putting off as if they were coming up here.”
“Again?” said the skipper thoughtfully.
“Yes; to take it out of us, I suppose, for what we’ve done. How would it be to turn the tables on them and make a counter attack?”
“Granting that we should win,” said the skipper, “it would mean half our men wounded; perhaps three or four dead. I can’t afford that, Burgess.”
“No,” said the mate abruptly. “Better stop here and give them what they seem to want. I think we can do that.”
“Yes,” said the skipper. “All aboard; and look sharp, Burgess. Let’s be as ready for them as we can. The fight will be more desperate this time, I’m afraid.”
“Not you,” said the mate, with a chuckle, as he sprang on deck. “Well, my lads, you did wonders last night. How did you like your job?”
“Not at all,” cried Fitz, laughing. “It was too wet.”
The mate smiled, and the next minute he was hard at work helping the skipper to prepare to give the Spaniards a warm reception, taking it for granted that it would not be long before they arrived, burning for revenge.
The preparations were much the same as were made before, but with this addition, that the carpenter, looking as fresh as if he had passed the night in his bunk, was hard at work with four men, lashing spare spars to the shrouds, so as to form a stout rail about eighteen inches above the bulwarks, to which the netting was firmly attached.