“That will do. In oars!” cried Mr Brymer, when we were about a hundred yards away.
“How can you be such a coward?” I heard Mr Frewen whisper passionately.
“No coward, sir,” replied the mate. “I am ready to risk my life in trying, as is my duty, to save those two passengers from harm, but it must be done with guile. It is madness for unarmed men to try and climb up that ship just to be thrown back into the sea.”
“Then you will not row right away?” said Mr Frewen, excitedly.
“And leave the ship in the hands of that scoundrel? Is it likely?”
“I beg your pardon, Brymer,” whispered Mr Frewen, “I did not know what I was saying. I was half mad.”
“My dear fellow, I know,” was the mate’s reply in the same tone. “I’m not going to give up, nor yet despair. There’s always a chance for us. That scoundrel may come to his end from a quarrel with one of his men; a ship may heave in sight; or we may board and surprise them, and if we do, may I be forgiven, but I’ll crush the life out of that wretch as I would destroy a tiger. Now just leave me to do my duty, and do yours.”
“What can I do?” replied Mr Frewen. “You do not want me to row away?”
“No; but I do wish you to attend to our wounded.”
“Ah! I had forgotten that,” said Mr Frewen, hastily bestirring himself. “Here, some one cried out when one of those shots was fired, and again I heard an exclamation just now.”