"If we do not strike a reef and founder," replied Dennis.
Here Turnpenny tried a device that he had often seen practised on the Anne Gallant. He ordered two men to go up to the cross-trees with a pulley-block; they rove a line through, and, hoisting up buckets of water, saturated all the canvas. Then he put all the men on to the lee braces, and so got the vessel to lie a point nearer the wind.
The two manoeuvres considerably increased her speed, but in spite of all that seamanship could do or devise the gap between the vessels sensibly diminished; the pursuer loomed ever larger down to leeward. Then Jan Biddle began to show himself in his true colours. Dennis had noticed that the man had attached to himself a group of the wilder spirits among the crew, who with an ill grace went about the duties assigned to them by Whiddon, and upon whom, indeed, the mate called as seldom as possible. When it became clear that the Mirandola was being surely overhauled, these men were observed in close talk beneath the break of the poop. By and by Biddle swaggered forward, followed by seven or eight of his comrades, to where Whiddon and Turnpenny stood, forward of the mainmast. Batten was at the helm.
"Art mad, Ned Whiddon?" cried Biddle in a hectoring tone. "Dost think thou'rt a mariner? Crymaces! if we trust to thee we'll be laid by the heels in the hold of yonder craft ere night."
"Couldst do better, think 'ee?" asked Whiddon quietly.
"Better? Who but a slin-pole would have done as 'ee have done? There's but one way to scape out of the clutches of the Spaniards, and that is to put the helm down, come about, and run for it. This craft is better running free than close-hauled."
"Know a fool by his folly," said Turnpenny. "Rule your saucy tongue, Jan Biddle, and offer not to teach your betters."
"Who be you to talk of betters, Amos Turnpenny—a sluddering rampallian like you? An you will take no counsel we'll e'en see to the manage of the vessel ourselves. Here, comrades, this be enough of these joulter heads; let go the sheets; I will put the helm down and we'll go round on the other tack: we'll have no fools over us, to bring us to harm."
But before one of the malcontents could step forward to do his bidding, Turnpenny threw his arms around Biddle, lifted him clean off his feet, and flung him against the bulwarks, where he lay stunned.
"And I'll serve any man likewise that dares to raise his voice in mutiny. Get about, you villains, and 'ware lest you be clapped in irons and set awash in the bilge."