“Barricade the companion-way,” said Mr Frewen, “and shoot down every ruffian who tries to enter. There is a lady on board, and we must defend her with our lives.”
I saw Mr Denning dart an angry look at the young doctor, whose pale face had lighted up so that he looked eager and animated.
“What do you say, Mr Brymer?” said Mr Denning, turning from the doctor.
“The same as Mr Frewen,” was the reply. “Doctor, you’ll have to patch me up so that I can fight a bit.”
“Your spirit will do more for you than I can, sir,” was the reply. “I am sorry to say, though, that Captain Berriman is completely prostrated. He must have received a crushing blow from behind.”
“Then you will fight?” said Mr Denning, eagerly.
“Of course,” said the mate quickly. “Now, gentlemen, please, the first thing is to pile up all the chests and boxes we have at command in the companion-way, so as to keep out the ruffians. They will get at the drink, and then stop at nothing. I’m afraid I cannot lift, but I can fire a pistol or a gun.”
“And I cannot lift,” said Mr Denning, with his eyes flashing, “but I can fire with this and take good aim. I brought it to shoot birds on the voyage. It will be gaol-birds now!”
Just then there was a stir and movement on deck, and the men gathered in that saloon made a rush for the door with such fierce determination that my heart gave a leap, and I felt that I was about to see blood shed, as I had often read of it in books. But this was no romance.
There were quick whispers, and as it rapidly grew lighter I saw Mr Denning stand right in the centre with the mate and Mr Frewen, all armed with guns ready to fire upon any one who appeared; but the alarm passed off, and Mr Denning being left on guard, the others all set to work carrying chests and portmanteaus from the different cabins, so many being available that they were used as so many bricks, and carefully built up from floor to ceiling, but with openings left in through which the defenders of the saloon could fire when the attack was made.