“Here, sir,” cried that worthy.
“Serve out the arms smart, my man. Two of you carry the lieutenant into the cabin. Steady there! He isn’t dead.”
For two of the men had been seen, by the dim light of a horn lantern, to seize their commanding officer in the most unceremonious way, to lug him into the cabin.
By this time the ’tween decks of the cutter was alive with dimly-seen figures, for in a vessel of this description the space devoted in a peaceful vessel to the storage of cargo was utilised for the convenience of the comparatively large crew.
“Heave those hammocks out of the way,” cried Hilary next; and this being done, he stood there with twenty well-armed men awaiting his next orders—orders which he did not give, for the simple reason that he did not know what to do.
It was a ticklish position for a lad of his years, to find himself suddenly in command of a score of fighting men, one and all excited and ready for the fray, as, schooled by drill and discipline, they formed themselves into a machine which he was to set in motion; but how, when, and where?
There was the rub, and in the midst of a dead silence Hilary listened to the trampling of feet overhead.
It was a curious scene—the gloomy ’tween decks of the cutter, with the group of eager men standing about awaiting their young officer’s orders, their rough, weatherbeaten faces looking fierce in the shadowy twilight, for the lanterns swinging fore and aft only seemed to make darkness visible; and as the trampling went on, evidently that of men wearing heavy fisher-boots, the steps were within a few inches of the heads of the crew.
“Pair o’ pistols, sir,” said a low, gruff voice; and Hilary started, for the gunner had come up quite silently. “Shall I shove ’em in your belt, sir?”
“Yes,” said Hilary sharply; and the gunner thrust the barrels of the two heavy, clumsy weapons into the young officer’s sword-belt, where they stuck in a most inconvenient way.