“Below there!” he cried. “Ah, it’s of no use. I’m covering yew with this pistol. Look here, I’ve got a boat alongside ready; that door’s a-going to be opened, and one of yew will come out a time, and tumble into the boat. One at a time, mind; and if there’s any show o’ fighting, we’ll shoot you down without mercy. Do yew hear?”
“Yes, I hear,” said Mark bitterly.
“Soon as yew’re all over the side, we’ll cut yew adrift; and when yew’re skipper picks yew up, yew may tell him that I’ll throw every nigger overboard before he shall take us, and run the schooner aground and blow her up this time.”
“You can give your message when Captain Maitland has you safely in irons, sir,” said Mark, stoutly.
“Thankye,” said the skipper; and at that moment, in obedience to an order previously given, the cabin door was dragged open.
“What d’yer say to a rush, sir?” whispered Tom Fillot.
He had hardly uttered the words, when there was a fresh crashing noise, a heavy report, and a splintering of wood, accompanied by a strange rustling sound. The door was clapped to again and fastened, and as there was a rush of feet, a shouting of orders, and the sound of axes being used, the schooner swung round, stopped, and the prisoners set up a cheer.
“Mainmast down by the board,” cried Tom Fillot, slapping his leg. “We can aim straight, sir, arter all.”
Mark forgot the smarting and throbbing from his burns on the instant, as he snatched out his dirk, for knowing as well as if he could see everything that the whole of the after-rigging was lying across the deck and dragging at the side, so that the schooner lay on the water like a gull with a broken wing, he felt that in a few minutes a couple of boats’ crews from the Nautilus would be aboard; and if there was to be any resistance, now was the time to make a diversion.
“Make ready, my lads,” he cried. “Cutlasses only. Quick!”