"Wretch!" he cried.
The doctor sprang in front of Pen, and thrust him back; the axe fell on the floor, making a deep gash. Johnson, Bell, and Simpson gathered around Hatteras, and seemed determined to support him. But plaintive, grievous cries arose from the berths, transformed into death-beds.
"Fire, fire!" they cried, shivering beneath their now insufficient covering.
Hatteras by a violent effort controlled himself, and after a few moments of silence, he said calmly,—
"If we destroy the ship, how shall we get back to England?"
"Sir," answered Johnson, "perhaps we can without doing any material damage burn the less important parts, the bulwarks, the nettings—"
"The small boats will be left," said Shandon; "and besides, why might we not make a smaller vessel out of what is left of the old one?"
"Never!" answered Hatteras.
"But—" interposed many of the men, shouting together.
"We have a large quantity of spirits of wine," suggested Hatteras; "burn all of that."