They rushed to—I was going to say arms. Alas! these were all gone. They were therefore helpless.
At the same time the good men and true had been driven below to the saloon, into which they rushed for safety’s sake.
Several were bleeding from wounds, and one poor fellow fell dead by the stove immediately after entering.
Then the saloon doors were closed, and barricaded outside by the mutineers.
The ship was captured no doubt, though what the end might be no one could even guess. Yet the prisoners in the saloon dreaded the very worst. Had their arms not been taken away, they would have sold their lives dearly. As it was, if the mutineers meant to murder them, it would be a mere massacre in cold blood.
No bells were struck to-night; but the saloon clock pointed to the hour of two. It would be over four long hours yet, then, ere the red sun leapt up from the sea and daylight began.
Daylight? Yes, and every one seemed to feel it would be their last day on earth.
Antonio knew well that as soon as morning broke those fiends incarnate would commence to loot the ship—and the fate of the prisoners would be too dreadful to contemplate.
Yet this weird little Captain Antonio did all he could to cheer every one around him up. It was a sad task and a difficult, for the shadow of death seemed to have settled on every heart, a gloom that kept all silent. Even Teenie herself, who would sit nowhere but on Barclay’s knee, was sad and fearful. Again and again she asked the boy the question—
“What will they do, Barc? What will the bad men do to us?”