CRUSOE AFLOAT AGAIN.
The midshipman's desire to "get just one eye on that Tom Newcombe," was gratified now; for, as the jolly-boat rounded the stern of the schooner, and came alongside, he discovered the captain of the Crusoe band leaning over the rail. "O, now, you had better keep off, if you don't want to get into trouble," he drawled. "All hands stand-by, to repel boarders."
"Way enough!" commanded Richardson. "Board with a loud cheer."
"Down with the 'cademy swells!" cried the governor, rushing frantically to the side, followed by his men. "Pitch 'em overboard as fast as they come up!"
But that was much easier said than done. The boat's crew whipped out their cutlasses, and when the chief saw the bright blades flashing before their eyes, he drew back, and wished for the spears he and his band had used during the attack on the yacht. The Crusoe men all shrank away from the rail, for the actions of the students indicated that they were determined to board the schooner in spite of all opposition, and that they were quite as determined to use their weapons on the first one who came within their reach. A few flourishes of the cutlasses cleared the way for them, and before the governor could think twice, the young tars had gained a footing on the deck.
"Knock them down! Throw them overboard!" exclaimed Tom Newcombe, retreating with all possible haste toward the forecastle, closely followed by the students. "O, now, keep your hands off, Dave Richardson, or I'll get even with you, some day."
The midshipman, not in the least intimidated by the threat, held fast to Tom's collar, which he had seized with a vice-like grasp, and dragged him toward the jolly-boat with one hand, while, in the other, he carried his cutlass, which he kept whistling through the air in a way that made the Crusoe men give room with alacrity. Close at his heels followed the boat's crew, ready to resist any attempt that might be made to rescue their captive. Richardson hurried him across the deck, and the Crusoe men, astonished at the audacity of their assailants, and afraid to trust themselves within reach of the gleaming cutlasses, stood in a group on the forecastle, not knowing what to do. Tom struggled desperately for his freedom, sometimes planting his feet firmly on the deck, and pulling back with all his might; then trying to unclasp the strong fingers that were holding fast to his collar; but finding that his efforts were wholly in vain, he began to call lustily for assistance.
"Help! help!" he cried. "Lend a hand, can't you? Are you five fellows going to stand there and let three spooneys capture me?"
These words aroused the governor, who now, for the first time, seemed to realize the fact that his crew outnumbered that of the enemy, two to one, and that it would be a cowardly piece of business to allow them to make a prisoner of one of his men, before his very eyes, and without a single effort on his part to rescue him. Tom was the most valuable man in the band; and after assisting him through so many dangers, he could not afford to lose him now.
"Handspikes!" yelled the governor. "Down with the 'cademy swells! Knock 'em overboard!"