In the gloom their eyes were gleaming with the fires one beholds in the eyes of frightened cats.
“Dere she comes!” shouted one of them. He pointed trembling finger.
Over the coamings of the fore-hatch black water was bubbling.
Yelping like animals, the sailors stampeded aft in a bunch, bowling over Mayo and the mates in their rush.
“Stop 'em, captain!” bellowed the first mate, guessing their intent. He rose and ran after them. But fright gave them wings for their heels. They scampered over the roof of the after-house, and were on the quarter-deck before the skipper was out of the alley. They leaped into the yawl which was swung at the stern davits.
“You renegades!” roared the master. “Come out of that boat!”
With the two mates at his heels he rushed at them. They grabbed three struggling men by the legs and dragged them back. But the negroes wriggled loose, driven to frantic efforts by their panic. They threw themselves into the boat again.
“Be men!” clamored Mayo, joining the forces of discipline. “There's a woman aboard here!”
But the plea which might have affected an Anglo-Saxon did not prevail. Their knives were out—not for attack on their superiors, but to slash away the davit tackle.
“Come on, boys! Throw 'em out!” shouted the master, leading the way into the yawl over the rail.