Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea

by George Manville Fenn

I peered out, and felt quite ready to laugh in spite of our perilous condition, for I could not help thinking what a conceited fool Walters looked. He seemed to me like a big school-boy playing at being a buccaneer; and the feeling was strong upon me that I should like to go out and punch his head till it was soft enough for some common-sense to get in.

Then the reality, the stern, horrible reality, of all that was before me came with terrible force; for as I scanned the rapidly drying deck, all strewed and splotched with trampled wet powder, I saw one great patch that did not seem to dry up at all, and the next moment I grasped what it was, and shuddered, for it was blood.

And then I felt that in spite of the absurdity of the appearance of Walters and some of the men, we poor creatures, shut up there in that saloon-cabin, with ladies depending upon us for protection, were face to face with death; for when weak, thoughtless men were once committed to an enterprise and led away, there would be no bounds to the excesses they might commit.

Strong thoughts, terrible thoughts these, but the weapons, the powder, and the blood showed me that there was no exaggeration.

A cold shudder passed through me as I stood there watching, and ready to report the next movement on the part of our enemies. My eyes felt a little dim, too, as I looked round vainly in search of Jarette, who must be, I was sure, planning some means of getting us all into his power.

The door was only opened widely enough for me to look along the deck where the men were watching the door; and I was just thinking that if we all made a bold dash at them, armed as we were with right upon our side, there was no reason why we should not scatter them; and once scattered and Jarette mastered, the rest would, I knew, be easy enough.

“And we shall have to do it,” I thought. “I can’t do much, but I could and I would lick Walters.”

My fingers itched to get at him as I thought all this, and the blood flushed up into my temples.

“A mean, contemptible coward!” I muttered, as I gazed at him. “Yes, you may stand there as cocky as you like with your pistols, but they don’t frighten me. You daren’t fire them, and you showed what a coward you were when you were told to lay the powder here and— Hallo!”

The current of my thoughts was changed on the instant as something came down very softly from above—something soft and grey-looking hanging from a string. There was not a sound, but I grasped directly what it meant.