As he spoke, the admiral hacked a great piece off the breast of the pheasant, and added it to the legs and wing.
“There,” he said, “that ought to keep him going till breakfast. Must have a bit o’ salt, Harry. Hush!”
He stooped down and blew out the remaining candle, as the captain caught his arm, and they stood listening.
For the creaking of a door had fallen upon their ears; and partly from involuntary action consequent upon the dread of being caught in so unusual a position, partly from the second thought to which he afterwards gave vent, the admiral sought refuge in the dark.
“Burglars, Harry,” he whispered. “They’re after your plate.”
“Hist! don’t speak; we may catch them,” was whispered back, and the two old officers stood listening for what seemed an interminable length of time before they saw the dim reflection of a light; heard more whispering, and then the door leading into the larder passage was softly opened.
“Coming into the trap,” thought the captain, as with his heart beating fast he prepared for the encounter which he foresaw must take place. “Be ready,” he said, with his lips to his brother’s ear.
“Right. They’re going to board,” was whispered back.
They were not long kept in doubt, for the larder door was suddenly thrown open, and three men dashed in armed with bludgeons and a cutlass. There was a sharp scuffle in the darkness, in which the two brave old officers made desperate efforts to master their assailants, but only to find that their years were against them, and they were completely overcome.
“You lubbers! Do you give in?” cried a hoarse voice—that of the man sitting on the captain’s chest, while two men were holding down the admiral, who still heaved and strove to get free.