“Give me your painter,” I said, quietly, reaching over for it, and then, as it was tossed up, taking it forward to the mizzen lanyards, where I proceeded to make it fast.
While doing this, I became aware of two men standing on the taffrail, carrying a heavy chest, which they were balancing upon the rail while bending on a line to it. At first I thought they were from the boat alongside, but instantly remembered the height of our quarter above the rail of the small boat, and knew no one could have climbed up so quickly.
“Stand from under,” growled one, whose voice sounded very like that of the red-headed villain Martin had taken into his drunken confidence aboard the brig. Then the chest disappeared over the rail, and the other man quickly caught a turn with the line about a belaying-pin, to ease it off. I was now close beside them, and had no difficulty in recognizing the silent one as the Guinea we had met in the brig that morning.
“Over with you!” growled the fellow who had first spoken. “Don’t be all night about letting that go,” and, suiting his action to his words, he sprang upon the rail and dropped over.
“What the blazes is this?” roared Mr. Gull from below, as the chest landed in his boat.
The fellow saw me as he slipped over the rail, and flung his knife at my face, the blade just grazing my cheek. Before I could recover myself, both the men had cleared the side and had dropped below. I rushed to the rail and peered over. Below there were fierce oaths and the sound of a desperate struggle, and in an instant several voices roared out for the watch on deck. Mr. Gull could be heard and dimly seen cursing and grappling with a man who strove to get over the boat’s stern into the water, while a black mass of men struggled in the boat’s bottom, yelling and cursing wildly in a strenuous combat.
The sudden uproar aroused Hawkson, who came bounding up the companion, with a cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other.
“What’s the row?” he bawled, making to the side.
“You may search me,” I answered. “Looks like a lot of lunatics below there.”
“Shore grog, I reckon. I’ll string that Martin up for this, an’ give Jones a dozen--Break away there, you blackguards, an’ come aboard, or I’ll fire into ye,” he bellowed, levelling his pistol.