"Nay," answered the Captain, a flush of anger overspreading his bronzed features. "They are but mutinous dogs; let them perish."
"They were our comrades, an', though it shames me to say it, my brother's son is with them," Cherry said doggedly. "If we pick 'em up we can send 'em off in the sloop, and they won't harm us any more."
"A boat would never live in such a sea," observed Captain Jeremy, with a sweep of his arm in the direction of the bar, where the breakers were tumbling in white, confused masses, for it was now blowing hard outside. Yet our Captain was certainly turning aside from his hard purpose.
"We are willing to take the risk, sir," pleaded the seaman earnestly. "I've not been brought up on the coast of Kent for nothing."
"Then go. But, mind you, one condition I make. Should you bring that murderous villain Ned Slater back alive, I'll run him up to the yardarm."
Tom Cherry touched his forelock and turned away, followed by his eight comrades. The long-boat was already alongside; so, tossing a mast and sail, an empty beaker, and a coil of grass rope into her, the dauntless men dropped over the side of the Golden Hope and pushed off.
"You are quite certain of the channel, I hope, Cherry?" shouted Captain Jeremy.
"Yes, sir; and besides, there's enough water over the shoals for us."
"Not with this tumble outside; so be careful, and keep to the smoothest water."
"More food for the sharks," I heard a seaman say, as he watched the boat gather way.