“What are you going to do, Dale?” cried Mr Denning.
“Find out where he is, and then lower a rope to him; and when he has fastened it round him, we must haul him on board, even if he is another enemy. There’ll be no need to be afraid of him.”
I was trying to make out where I could most handily find a rope, when, plainly heard above the heavy beating of the waves against our bows, as the ship rose and fell in her wild race onward through the dense blackness ahead, there was the murmur of a voice and a loud movement below the hatch we were guarding.
Then distinctly heard came the words—
“Give me room then,” and this was followed by a crashing sound, and a jar against my hand as I held on to the side of the hatchway.
“They’ve got a chopper, and are going to cut their way out!” I said excitedly. And almost as I spoke there was another dull blow, and this was followed by a cheer.
“What are you going to do?” I cried, as Mr Preddle held on with one hand, and presented his revolver at the door of the hatchway.
A flash and a dull report served for my answer then; and as the bullet crashed through the woodwork, there was a yell, a dull sound as of a fall, and then in the momentary silence Mr Preddle said—
“Those were my orders; I was obliged.”
A ragged volley was fired then from below, and we heard the bullets striking the wood, and saw two or three splitting the thick wood at the top of the hatchway. But we stood back too much for either of them to touch us, as we listened, trying to distinguish the words said, as we pictured, no doubt pretty accurately, what was going on in the forecastle; for a dull groaning told only too plainly that Mr Preddle’s shot had taken effect.