I could not help hoping that they would turn out to be like sheep, and leave it to us to play the sheep-dog with them.
“Now then, one more word,” said the mate. “It would have been better to divide, and part go to starboard, the rest to port, but we are so few.”
“Yes, let’s keep together,” said Mr Frewen, “and make our rush. Creep forward half-way, then I’ll whistle, and we must do our best. Ready, Mr Preddle?”
“Yes, sir, I’m ready; but I’m afraid you must not expect much from me. I’ll hit as hard as I can though.”
“That will do. Now, gentlemen, forward!”
The wind shrieked more loudly than ever as Mr Frewen gave the word, and with our pistols ready we crept forward with no little difficulty toward where the lanterns swung, keeping together, and moving slowly so as to keep our feet. Before we were half-way toward the bows we could see a dull light glowing from the forecastle-hatch, and a couple of dark figures standing in front of it, so that their oilskin-covered bodies stood out big and grotesque.
That was our goal, I felt, and I knew that if we made a bold rush those two could easily be driven down, while I hoped that the others would be too much cowed to fight.
Mr Frewen and the mate were first, Mr Preddle and I behind, and I was just thinking that it was nearly time for the whistle to be blown and the rush made, while I thought, too, how easy it would be to make a mistake and injure a friend with our pistols, when the ship gave such a lurch that we all went heavily against the bulwarks, to which we clung to save ourselves from a heavy fall, then bang, splash, rose a wave over the bows, and a voice which came from one of the figures by the light from the hatch yelled forth a torrent of oaths as he asked what the men were doing at the wheel.
I turned cold all down my back without the help of the spray, for it was Jarette’s voice we heard, and we had bagged the wrong fox!
For a moment we clung together there in the darkness as the ship hung over to port; then, as she righted herself, Mr Frewen, feeling desperate, and that we could not now go back to our place, clapped the boatswain’s whistle to his lips; it sounded shrilly above that which we could hear in the rigging, and we made our rush.