“He’s right,” he said calmly. “They are our boats and men. They must have been somewhere near, and seen the light rising up from the ship, and come back to see what it means.”
“Then all is lost!” said Mr Denning, wildly, as he seized his sister’s hand.
“Oh, no,” replied Mr Brymer, coolly, “by no means. Miss Denning, kindly see what you can do in the way of breakfast for us. Those men cannot be here under an hour, and we shall all be faint. Cheer up. They’re not on board yet.”
The next minute he was on the main-deck, giving his orders.
“They can’t board us,” he said, “but they can cut that boat adrift, and carry her off with all those provisions on board. Now, Mr Frewen, you will help us. Mr Preddle, be ready to come and haul when you are asked, but in the meantime I leave the arms to you. See that they are all loaded and laid ready on the saloon-table, and with the ammunition to hand.”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” he said eagerly; and he was moving off.
“Stop,” cried Mr Brymer. “There is a small keg of powder in the cable-tier, get that in the saloon too; and in the locker in my cabin you’ll find some big cartridges and shot. Everything is there. Do you think you can load and prime the cannon?”
He pointed as he spoke to the small brass gun, used for signalling when going into port. “I never loaded a big one,” said Mr Preddle, “but I used to have a brass one when I was a boy, and I’ve loaded and fired that.”
“It is precisely the same, sir. Have it ready, and a poker in the galley red-hot. Bah! we have no fire.”
“Wrong, sir. Stove’s going, and the kettle nearly on the bile,” growled Dumlow, who had limped up.