But there was no need for Mr. Bates to put a question. The door of the state-room opened, and Mrs. Vickers appeared, trembling, with Sylvia by her side. “Accept, Mr. Bates,” she said, “since it must be so. We should gain nothing by refusing. We are at their mercy—God help us!”
“Amen to that,” says Bates under his breath, and then aloud, “We agree!”
“Put your pistols on the table, and come up, then,” says Rex, covering the table with his musket as he spoke. “And nobody shall hurt you.”
CHAPTER X. JOHN REX'S REVENGE.
Mrs Vickers, pale and sick with terror, yet sustained by that strange courage of which we have before spoken, passed rapidly under the open skylight, and prepared to ascend. Sylvia—her romance crushed by too dreadful reality—clung to her mother with one hand, and with the other pressed close to her little bosom the “English History”. In her all-absorbing fear she had forgotten to lay it down.
“Get a shawl, ma'am, or something,” says Bates, “and a hat for missy.”
Mrs. Vickers looked back across the space beneath the open skylight, and shuddering, shook her head. The men above swore impatiently at the delay, and the three hastened on deck.
“Who's to command the brig now?” asked undaunted Bates, as they came up.
“I am,” says John Rex, “and, with these brave fellows, I'll take her round the world.”