"Ours on the Tophet weighed twelve hundredweight; this one is about the same size."
"Then rig a gun tackle, and the four of you will manage the job, I think."
Accordingly two large double blocks were obtained and the rope rove ready for use. One of the blocks was secured to the cud of the derrick, which was then hoisted to an angle of about forty-five degrees. This took time, but at length everything was ready for the crucial test.
"Now, all together!"
The three lads and the mulatto tailed on to the rope. The blocks squeaked as the strain began to tell; the cutter began to lift, then—crash!
Flat on their backs fell the four lads; high in the air jerked the disengaged lower block. The slings to which it had been fastened had snapped.
Slowly the victims regained their feet, Andy rubbing a tender portion of his anatomy, Terence gasping for breath, for Andy's head had well-nigh winded him. Ellerton was clapping his hands to a rapidly rising bump on the back of his head, while Quexo, whose skull was as hard as iron, was hopping all over the deck, rubbing his shins, that had saved the apprentice's head at the mulatto's expense.
"Try again, boys!" shouted Andy. "Everything on board this blessed craft seems rotten!"
A new span was placed in position, and the tackle again manned, and this time their efforts were crowned with success. The cutter rose slowly in the air, till it hung fire five feet above the shattered bulwarks.
"Belay, there! Man the guy-rope!"