"If he can't be quiet, boys, you'd better heave him over. I've no use for letting them know just where to shoot."
"That's sense," said Charley. "Reach out and put some weight on, Appleby. Your partner's all right."
Appleby did as he was bidden, though the spray that whirled about them rendered the boat almost invisible as she lurched over the swell, while his contentment increased when Niven assured him that it was only his foot, that was hurting him. Presently the Champlain ran past the boat with canvas banging, and while they hove her in Stickine drew the skipper towards the rail.
"There's a boat on our bow. Came off 'bout a mile back down the beach," he said. "They pull like white men, so far as I make out."
"Heading straight to windward, too!" said Jordan, quietly. "Well, we'll have the main topsail on her."
The topsail was aloft in another minute, and the Champlain's rail almost awash as she thrashed out to sea, but it was only in short tacks she could work out of the bay, and their pursuers seemed to know it, for they had rowed to windward and could accordingly chose their time for approaching her.
"'Pears to me they mean to come on board," said Jordan dryly. "Well, you'll pass up the clubs and lay them handy on the house, but there'll be trouble for any one who takes one up before he's told to. Is it you, Montreal, at the wheel?"
There was a growl in answer, and Jordan seemed to smile.
"Then," he said, "you'll keep her going and not too high, until I tell you."
They swept on hurling the spray aloft, for though the bay was slightly sheltered the swell worked in, and it was blowing tolerably hard, while, so far as Appleby could see, the boat meant to intercept them when they went about close off a smoking reef. He could just make her out every now and then as she rose with a sea.