Meanwhile on deck, after a bit of a consultation, the American skipper had determined to get rid of his dangerous prisoners; and to this end he had had the worst boat slightly provisioned with biscuit and water, and she hung at the davits, ready for the midshipman and his followers to be had up one by one, soon after daylight, and disarmed and bundled into the boat to make for the shore.
“We’ll get too far out for ’em to nab us again,” the skipper said, as he glanced shoreward through his night-glass, where the coast lay some seven or eight miles away.
In profound ignorance of all this, Mark slept on till he was awakened by Tom Fillot, and started up, staring and wondering, till he recalled that which was before him.
Then he felt a chill of dread, for it would be a terrible thing to do—that firing off a sufficient charge of powder to blow out the door and yet leave the occupants of the cabin uninjured.
Tom Fillot had no such dread, and after trying to make out whether they were watched, he quietly thrust an arm beneath the lid of the locker and drew out a tin of powder, which he carried across, and placed with the neck opened and on its side, so that a little of the contents ran out close by the cabin entrance.
This he did three more times, laying the tins neck to neck, each open, and helping to make a little hill of black grains, while his comrades looked gloomily on. Then, fetching a fifth, he opened it, and laid a zigzag train completely along the cabin floor right to beneath the window, and returned carefully to empty the remainder on the little heap and about the necks of the other tins.
Five pounds of gunpowder! Plenty to bring destruction upon all within the cabin, as well as knock out the door and hatch beyond.
“There we are, sir,” said Tom Fillot, seeking for a box of matches and coolly taking one out. “Now we’ll all lie down together when you think it’s a good time, and keep our heads close to the floor. The blaze’ll go right over us, and you understand, lads, as soon as the blow up comes, we shall all rush out, take ’em by surprise, and capter the schooner. That’s right, sir, ain’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right, Tom. Be ready, my lads.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the men, coolly; and the black grasped a cutlass as well, looking prepared for anything.