“But they keep on shooting,” said the captain, as another arrow came on board not far from the spot where they were sheltering, “and I can’t say I want to have one of those things sticking into me.”
“What shall we do then?” said the mate.
“Here, you,” cried the captain to one of the men, “go and tell the cook to stick the poker in the galley fire.”
The man went on all fours along the deck nearly as actively as a dog, and his fellows laughingly cheered him, even the captain smiling grimly before turning once more to the mate.
“Get one of those little flannel bags of powder and load the brass gun. You can point her towards where the blackguards are, and she’ll go off with such a roar that it may startle them and send them paddling for their lives.”
“Maybe it will,” said the mate gruffly; “but I doubt it.”
“Never mind your doubts, my lad. It won’t cost much to try. I don’t suppose they ever heard a cannon fired in their lives, and they’ll think we’ve got the thunder to help us. We’ll run a double charge in: the brass gun will stand it.”
“Suppose she bursts?” said the mate rather sourly.
“Suppose?” said the captain sharply. “There, you do what I tell you. If she does burst I shall have fired her, and she’ll kill me, and you’ll be skipper, so you’re all right.”
“No, I shan’t,” said the mate gruffly, “for she’ll kill me. I’m going to fire her myself.”