“No,” replied Mr Denning, as he drew back and began to reload. “I could not see any one, only that a bag of powder was being thrust along the deck with a hand-spike, and I fired at where I thought a man might be.”
“And hit him, seemingly,” said Mr Frewen. “Now then, we must down with some of these trunks.”
They were seized directly, and pulled away, so that had we liked we could have opened the door widely; and Mr Denning now took up his position here, while Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle stood ready each with their guns, which had not yet been discharged, while I and Mr Brymer were in charge of the two buckets of water.
There was now plenty of room for any one to look round the edge of the door and make an observation; and though our position was a good deal weakened, this was to some extent counterbalanced by the chests and trunks being built across as a breastwork, behind which the guns were stationed, Mr Brymer and I being between the breastwork and the door.
“Now, Dale, look out and see how matters stand,” said the captain.
I peered cautiously round, and saw that the deck was blackened with moist powder, and that two powder-bags lay in patches of wet, while all round was rapidly drying up. There were the mutineers, standing in a group, every man armed, though some only bad knives and hatchets. By their side, as if in command, stood Walters, with two pistols in his belt, looking like a pirate in a penny picture; and they were all staring at the cabin-door; but I looked in vain for the leader of the mutiny.
I drew back and reported what I could see, and Mr Frewen whispered—
“Could you reach the powder-bags with a walking-stick? I mean one with a hook.”
“No; but I could easily run out and pick them up.”
“No; never mind,” said the captain; “the water would run up through them like in salt or sugar. There’s no danger from them. Look out again.”