Jones on one side and myself on the other fell upon them with our cutlasses, and the first three lay groaning and blocking the way. Hicks crouched down behind the pile of topsail and rested his musket, with its muzzle about three feet from the opening, but held his fire. He would wait until one of us failed to stop our men.
The three bodies were whisked away, and a half-score of black faces, with white eyeballs and ivory teeth, filled the gap, each savage trying to get in at once, none flinching in the least from the sword cuts. Capstan-bars, muskets, and cutlasses were shoved through, and we had to keep alert to prevent being wounded. One huge negro, with a woolly beard on his black chin, pulled a couple of his fellows back from the opening, and thrust a long muscular arm inside, holding a cutlass. He swung it with marvellous quickness, and parried my stroke, giving me a bad cut in return, but Jones reached him with a short-arm thrust, and, before he could recover, I had him out of action. He was jerked back before we could get hold of his weapon, and others took his place.
It was a nightmare scene there in between the decks of the old pirate barque. I could sometimes catch a glimpse of Sir John Hicks lying in the bight of the old topsail, with his eyes looking steadily along the barrel of the musket and shining like beads in the dim light. He was good for one fellow,--the one we would miss. Opposite me the big sailor slashed and cut at everything that came through the opening, while just without the black bodies crowded, and hideous black faces grinned and yelled in savage fury.
Another rush, and then another, and Jones received a stab from a cutlass thrust suddenly in at the door. Three armed negroes tried to enter at once, and almost succeeded. I stopped one, but Jones’s man came through, and another started to follow. Then the musket crashed in the passage, and we were choked with smoke. But Hicks had stopped the leader, and Jones then finished the other. We still held our own.
Suddenly the faces and forms drew back from the opening. A wild yelling was heard on deck, followed by a scrambling up the companion. Some noises sounded at the doors, pounding and hammering. We drew back and waited.
The minutes passed slowly. Hicks placed his spare gun in position, and coolly proceeded to load on the stores packed behind us. All was black and quiet now in the cabin, save for the hammering at the doors.
In a little while I began to get nervous. The yelling had begun to die away, and only now and then voices sounded forward.
“I reckon I’ll take a peep into the cabin,” I said. “Bring the lamp, and stand for a rush if there are any tricks played.”
Jones took the light, and, standing just inside the hole, let the rays fall upon the cabin-deck. It was apparently deserted. Poking my cutlass ahead of me, ready for a surprise, I made my way slowly through the opening, keeping my eyes on both sides as I came through. The cabin was empty.
I looked up at the companion entrance, and, as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw the doors were closed. The forward doors also had been put in place, and the hammering had now ceased. I distinctly heard the rattle of blocks with the tackle running rapidly.