"We've sprung a leak!" exclaimed Mostyn, stating an obvious fact; then, laying aside his oar, he quickly extracted a cartridge from one of the rifles, and inserted the bullet in a small hole just under the middle thwart.
Peter and Jasper exchanged meaning glances. One of the two had fired the shot that had completely penetrated both sides of the boat, although one of the holes was above water-line. Each, by that glance, tried to insinuate that the other was the culprit, at the same time proving that the shot that had disabled Black Strogoff was his.
"We'll appraise responsibility when we've finished the job," declared Burgoyne. "Now, steady all. Give way."
Keeping a keen watch on the apparently deserted schooner, the Third Officer steered the boat in her direction, holding a rifle ready to fire at the first sign of resistance.
"Easy all! Lay on your oars," ordered Burgoyne.
The boat, being bluff-bowed and laden, soon lost way, drifting idly at a distance of about twenty yards from the schooner.
Burgoyne fancied he heard a scuffling sound like metal being dragged across the deck. It might have been the grinding of the badly secured main-boom and yard as the vessel rolled sluggishly in the gentle swell.
"Take both oars, Minalto," continued Burgoyne. "Peter, old son, stand by with a rifle. Unless I'm much——"
Before he could complete the sentence the head and shoulders of a negro appeared above the low bulkhead. There was a flash, and a bullet sung past Burgoyne's right ear.
The rifles of the two Englishmen cracked in unison. Leaping a full three feet in the air, the negro fell writhing across the rail, and, slowly overbalancing, toppled into the sea.