Not so Haco Barepoles, who went to the wheel of his little vessel, and calmly awaited the result.
Gaff’s spring at the chains of the cutwater was successful, but in making it he received a blow on the head from one of the swinging blocks of the sloop which almost stunned him, insomuch that he could only cling to the chain he had caught with the tenacity of despair.
One of the sailors observed him in this position of danger, and instantly descending with a rope fastened it under his chest, so that he and Billy were safely hauled on board, and the former was led below to have his head examined by the surgeon.
Meanwhile the men in the bow of the steamer shouted to Haco to come on board.
“No, thank’ee,” replied the skipper, “shake yourself clear o’ my riggin’ as fast as ye can, and let me continoo my voyage.”
“Your sloop is sinking,” urged the captain of the steamer.
“Not sinkin’ yet; I’ll stick to her as long as she can float.”
“But you’ve none of your men left on board, have you?”
“No; better without ’em if they’re so easy frightened.”
As he said this one of his own men slid quickly down a rope that hung from the steamer’s bowsprit, and dropt on the deck of the sloop, exclaiming—