“My plan is to defend the ship to the last, and then take to the boat—that is, if the case has become hopeless. So, Gregory, sooner or later they will find out that the boat is here, and try to cut it adrift. You will go to the cabin-window which commands the boat’s painter, and shoot down whoever tries to cut it.”
Gregory nodded, took a gun and some cartridges, and walked to one of the cabin-windows, then to another, and changed again.
He had hardly reached the last and looked out when there was a shot, a yell, and a second shot.
The captain rushed to his officer’s side.
“What is it?” he cried.
“Only just in time,” said the mate, coolly reloading. “One of the scoundrels had swum round, was in the boat, and cutting her away.”
“Did you—”
The captain paused and looked inquiringly in the mate’s eyes.
“We’re fighting for our lives and the lives of these ladies, Captain Strong,” said Gregory. “Suppose we do our duty and ask no questions afterwards. The Malay did not cut the painter.”
Captain Strong nodded and returned to where the men stood by the barricaded door, to answer the major’s inquiring look with a few words as to matters being all right, and then they waited, with the ladies pale and anxious, in one of the cabins, and Mark standing ready to supply ammunition when it should be required.