"Very well," said Cathie, with joy in his face.
He stooped behind his long gun for a moment, trained it carefully, and instantly its angry bellow filled sea and sky, and sent the women below to their knees. They heard a crash, aloft and below, aboard the Blackbirder, and the yells of the men as they scattered to avoid the falling spars. The smoke, drifting lazily away, showed the brig's maintopmast nipped neatly at the crosstrees, and hanging with its yards in a fantastic tangle of ropes to the deck.
"That's the first time of asking," shouted Cathie. "Are you coming?" and he bent behind his gun again.
"I kom," and they saw the black-a-vised crew set to launching a boat, with vicious side-glances at their oppressor.
Presently the dirty boat and its dirty crew lay alongside, and the burly one climbed slowly up the ladder they dropped for him.
His small eyes glared viciously out of his bloated cheeks, "like a hunted boar's," said Cathie afterwards.
"Now then! You are pirate?"
"Not at all—we're missionaries," said Cathie.
"Missi——!" and the fat one came within measurable distance of apoplexy.
"You've stolen our people. We want them back. Do you understand?"