Billy made no answer, for another engagement seemed terrible enough to think of now in cold blood, and they were soon after joined by Small, who said nothing, but held out his hand to Mark, to give the lad’s fingers a long silent pressure, which seemed to him to mean only one thing, and that was good-bye.
After a time the captain’s voice was heard to summon the men, and Small was sent to relieve Gregory; but the mate declined to leave his post, and no attempt was made to enforce obedience.
Then half the men were placed at the barricade, and the weapons of the other half were placed by them, while these latter were drawn up by the saloon windows.
“What’s we going to do?” whispered one of the men to Mark; but he could give no answer.
It was now dark, even darker than the previous night, but a slight breeze was beginning to rise in fitful gusts, and there was now and then the ripple of water against the stern.
“You’ve made up your mind then?” said the major.
“Yes,” replied the captain firmly. “We have done our duty. Now humanity must be heard.”
The captain then spoke a few words to Mr Gregory, and the question of how the boat was to be brought from where she was secured exactly under the cabin-window was discussed and settled by Mark volunteering to go down.
“You lower me into the water with a rope,” he said, “and I’ll soon swim to her and get in.”
The captain hesitated for a few moments, and then the sheet-rope was once more brought into use, and with it fastened round his waist Mark climbed out, glanced up at the stern-rail to see if anyone was waiting ready with a spear to thrust him through, and directly after he was lowered into the water.