"In the foc's'l, sir," said the Bo's'n.
"Send him up here. On deck, everybody!"
"Says he's sick, sir."
"Sick, is he? Guess he'll be sick before we've—Why don't you get out that boat, you rascals?"
"Shall we lower a third one, Captain?" said I. The shore looked inhospitable. We might as well be on the right side of the men.
"Bear a hand there, whatever you do! They've got their boat in the water. The men are climbing down the falls now. Put a cask of salt pork under the thwarts, Mr. Jones, and a breaker of water."
I gave the order, and added thereto a bag of hard bread, some coffee, tea, and sugar. I saw that the Bo's'n was adding the necessary utensils. Cynthia watched these preparations with disapproving mien. She came over to where I stood, her eyes flashing fire.
"Do you mean to tell me," she asked fiercely, "that you'll run from those letter-of-marque people without even a struggle? There are all my shells and that West Indian dress of mine down in my box. Do you intend to let them be taken without so much as——"
"I'm not Captain of this craft," said I, "but he's doing the only——"
"Don't hide your cowardice behind my poor old Uncle. If no one else will do anything, I'll—Get me a slow match; light it quickly, do you hear?" with a stamp of the foot at the cabin boy.