“At least,” thought I, “they shall not perish thus. Though their fate be sealed, they shall have a choice of death—they shall choose between burning and drowning—the latter will at least be easier to endure.”
It was this last reflection that had prompted me to my purpose.
Bending downward, I hurriedly communicated my design to my companion. I was gratified with his reply.
“All right, Willim! good work—do it!—do it—set ’em free, poor creetirs. I was thinking o’t myself—tho’ ’twas too late—haste ’ee, lad—look sharp!”
I waited not for the end of his speech; but springing back to the deck, rushed towards the hatch. I thought not of looking below—indeed, the smoke was now coming up so thickly that I could scarce see the terrified faces. The glimpse I had of them was sufficient to satisfy me, that, in a few minutes more, those glaring eyes would have been blind, and those hoarse voices hushed in death.
I remembered where one batten had been removed, and where the other had been attacked by the axe. I renewed the attack—striking with all the strength and dexterity I could demand.
My efforts proved successful; and, after half-a-dozen blows, the spikes yielded, and the cleet of timber flew off.
I did not stay to raise the grating; I knew that would be done by the pressure from below; and, gliding back, I once more climbed over the bows.
One glance back, as I passed over the head, told me that my purpose had been fully accomplished. Instantly as I parted from it the grating was flung off, and I saw the stream of black forms pouring upwards and spreading itself over the deck!
I stayed to observe no more; but, sliding down a rope, was received in the arms of my companion.