Another long hour of suspense and waiting passed slowly, drearily away. The fires had died down on the hills and gone out, and the silence was intense.
Sandie was leaning over the bulwarks as usual, gazing into the mysterious blackness. Near him was Tyro.
Suddenly, without warning of any kind, the dog placed his forepaws against the bulwarks and barked loudly, fiercely.
“Good dog!” said the captain.
“Men, be ready; they are coming!”
“Uncover the lamps!”
This was done, and instantaneously the ship’s deck and every spar and rope was revealed in a light almost as bright as day.
At the same time a yell rang up from the water, so savage, so demoniacal, that it almost paralysed the nerves of those who heard it.
It was answered next moment, however, by a truly British cheer.
The Firelanders had chosen the bows at which to board. The boarding-netting, however, was something they had not reckoned for. They could be seen in scores, like demons, hacking at it with their knives from the outside.