“Yes, Mr Leigh; and be quick.”
“Ahoy! What ship’s that?” cried Hilary.
There was no response, only a buzz of conversation reached their ears, and the boats came rapidly on, the occupants of the Kestrel’s deck seeing that they separated and changed position, so as to board on each bow, for the cutter now lay with her sail flapping, like a log upon the water.
“She’s an enemy, sir,” whispered Hilary; and he did not alter his opinion as the boats neared.
“All raight. We come take you off, sailor boy,” cried the same voice that had hailed. “You shall be safe before you vill sink you sheep.”
The lieutenant seemed to have come to himself, and to be a little more matter-of-fact and sane in his actions, for he now ordered Waters to load the long gun, and the gunner eagerly slipped away.
“There, that will do,” cried the lieutenant now. “We are not sinking. What ship’s that?”
The boats stopped for a moment, and there was again a whispering on board; but the next instant they came on.
“Stop there, or I’ll sink you!” cried the lieutenant. But the boats now dashed on, and it was evidently a case of fighting and beating them off.
Every man grasped his weapon, and a thrill of excitement ran through Hilary as he felt that he was really about to engage in what might be a serious fight. Fortunately for the crew of the Kestrel, both of the boats were not able to board at once, for that on the larboard bow was driven right into the wreck of the jibboom and sail, which, with the attendant cordage, proved to be sufficient to hamper their progress for the time being, while the other boat dashed alongside with a French cheer, and, sword in hand, the crew swarmed over on to the deck.