The men rose at his words, but Mr Brymer appeared now above them.
“Sheer off,” he roared, “or we’ll sink the boat.”
Two reports followed this speech, and, to my horror, I saw Mr Brymer fall back heavily on the deck to lie motionless.
“That’s winning, boys,” shouted Jarette, triumphantly. “Now then, all of you follow.”
He made a spring at the boat-hook they had fastened to the chains, and scrambled up, to step on one side crouching down, revolver in hand, sheltering himself, but watchfully ready to fire at either of us who might show, and waiting while his men climbed to him.
While they were climbing out of the boat to his side, Mr Preddle stepped forward gun in hand, to pass it over the bulwark, and hold the men in check; but the barrels were seized, pressed on one side, and a man reached up and struck the naturalist over the head, so that he too went down heavily.
“Here, hi! Mr Dale, you’re in command now,” shouted Bob Hampton. “Barney, doctor, Neb, come and help here.”
We all made a rush to the side to help Bob, and our presence was needed, for man after man had now reached the chains, where they waited for Jarette’s orders to make a rush.
“Here, let me come,” cried Dumlow, limping up with his capstan-bar. “Give me room, and I’ll clear the lot down.”
He swung up his bar to reach over and deliver a sweeping blow, but he was over Jarette, who started up below the bar, and fired right in the big sailor’s face, when he too went down, but not hit. The shock and the whizz of a bullet close to his ear had sufficed to stagger him, so that he tripped over Mr Preddle’s prostrate body, and gave his head a sharp blow on the back.