“Put me down, I says, and go and help the old man. I tell you I can get to the boat myself without any help.”
“Hold your row,” said one of the men; “if you don’t we’ll bump you.”
“Don’t talk, my lads; hurry on,” cried Brace, who was busy reloading. “Look sharp and get aboard.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” cried the party cheerily.
The next minute they were at the water’s edge, where their defenders halted ready, just as the captain’s voice was heard to shout:
“Fire!”
Three shots rang out, and, covered by the smoke, the captain and his mates ran on, to begin reloading.
“Look sharp, boys!” panted the captain; “get to the boats, each man to his own, but put the wounded man in mine. You’re ready, Mr Brace—Mr Briscoe?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right: we won’t row away and leave you. Forward, my lads, and get under cover of the boat’s side. Hoist the sail half-mast, and keep behind it. They’ll begin to shoot directly. We’ll get on board first, gentlemen, to cover you from the boats. Stand fast till we’re all in if you can, and then give ’em all four barrels and make a dash for it before the smoke rises.”