It was the saving of Rodd’s life, but the mulatto was dangerous still, and recovering himself he made a dash at Morny, who stepped aside, while, with all the ferociousness of a Malay running amok, the man sprang aft, avoided two or three cuts made at him by the sailors, and then plunged over the side, to begin swimming towards the three-master, which was in the act of sending another shot at the doctor’s vessel.
This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in all directions, and making the coxswain shout to his men to stand firm, as, seeing their perilous position, he hurried to their help, for the big schooner had slipped her cable, a sail had been run up, and she was beginning to answer her helm, while the Maid of Salcombe was drifting helplessly towards the shore.
It was a choice between hoisting sail and letting go another anchor while the chance was there, as the two vessels forged slowly ahead preparing to send in another shot.
This latter in his excitement Joe Cross essayed to do, striking their enemy just at the water-line as she passed them, while now the slaver’s sister craft began firing as she too, hoisting sail, was coming up-stream.
“Ah!” panted the sailor, as he turned to Uncle Paul. “Here’s your peaceful schooner, sir, as trades in palm-oil! Why, they are pirates and slavers, sir, and I’ve done it now. Too late, my lads—too late!” he cried to the men, who had let go the other anchor. “Nothing can save us now. We are going ashore.”
“Oh, don’t give up, man,” cried the doctor angrily.
“I won’t, sir. None of us will; but— There, I said as much. We just touched bottom then. There she goes again! And in another minute we shall be fast in the mud, and they’ll have nothing to do but powder away at us till we are a wreck. Slew that there gun round, boys, and let’s give her another shot or two while there’s a chance.”
“No, no,” cried Rodd. “Not at that! Fire at the other. Can’t you see, Joe? Uncle! Morny! The three-master’s going down!”
It was quite true, for the first shot from the Maid of Salcombe, that sent from the long gun, crammed as Joe had said almost to the muzzle, had torn into the slaver just below water-line. The second had been just as effective in its aim, the water had been pouring in ever since, and now, as she was evidently settling down by the head, her guns were forsaken, all discipline was at an end, and her crew had made a rush for the boats, which were soon after overcrowded and being pushed off by their occupants to make for the third schooner. This last, fairly well managed, came slowly on, firing from time to time at the English craft, which, had now swung round upon her heel and lay bowsprit to the shore in a falling tide.
As far as was possible her guns were slewed round, and a steady reply to the enemy’s fire was kept up; but her doom seemed to be sealed, the Spaniard being able to choose her own position, while minute by minute the English vessel was getting more helpless.