“What, are you on our side, then, old Plum Duff?” cried Dumlow, who was now sitting up.
“Seems like it, Neb,” cried the cook. “Here, Mr Dale, sir, load quickly and fire, or they’ll come on again.”
He handed me the gun, and I rapidly opened the breech and slipped in the cartridges, just as firing began from aft, and I saw that Mr Frewen was standing against the companion-way aiming at the boat containing Jarette, which had sheered off after picking up their leader and another man, while now the second boat hove in sight from under the bows, in time for Mr Frewen to send a stinging charge of shot at her crew in turn.
He kept up his practice, while in both boats the men pulled with all their might to get out of range.
But our troubles did not seem over, for hardly had we grasped the fact that the cook and three of the men had snatched at the opportunity to escape from Jarette’s rule, and join us in the defence of the ship, than I saw that which made me shout—
“Fire!—fire!” for the great cloud of steam always rising was swept suddenly towards the starboard side, and the vessel slowly careened over in the same direction.
“Burnt through, and sinking,” I groaned to myself, and then I felt stunned, for Bob yelled out—
“Run to the wheel, Barney, lad. Keep her before the wind.”
The sailor bounded to the ladder, and up on the poop-deck, to spin round the spokes of the wheel; and the next minute, almost before I could grasp what had happened, the sails, which had hung for days motionless, had filled, and we were running free, leaving the two boats and their occupants far behind.
“Thank God!” cried a voice behind me, and I turned to see that it was Mr Frewen, who now ran to the entrance of the saloon, where I saw him grasping Miss Denning’s and her brother’s hands, and I knew he was saying “Saved!”