The fire in the brig had suddenly begun to die away, and he feared that it was about to go out. Ethan realized that this was the cause of his delay.
“It needs more draught, I think,” said the boy.
“If the hatches were all off it would have more chance,” said the captain.
Without a word Ethan sprang to the vessel’s rail and climbed aboard. As luck would have it an axe was at hand; and in a moment his sturdy blows were ringing and crashing in the ears of the mob. This latter had constantly grown larger; from every direction the people were hastening to the scene. When the throng realized what the axe blows meant, a wild howl went up from them.
“Down with the Yankee pirate,” came the cry.
“They are burning the ship!” shrilled a newcomer.
“Look,” shouted another; “there is only one man. Shall five hundred loyal subjects of the king be braved by one American cut-throat?”
“Never!” roared the mob.
Like a fury Ethan hacked and hewed at the hatches until he had them all cut away; he was delivering the finishing strokes when the press from the rear of the crowd became so great that those in front were hurled forward.
“Back!” cried the intrepid John Paul Jones, presenting his heavy pistols in their faces. “Keep back!”