I was at the rail in an instant, but saw nothing in the foam. A moment's silence followed, and then a sound of steps and a rising murmur of voices told me of the alarm.
Gantline was on deck in less time than it takes to tell it, and he roared out: "What's the matter?"
Slade sprang from the door of the forward cabin, calling out that he was coming. Men from forward rushed aft. Then, from out of the doors of the alleyways, a stream of figures poured forth, flowing like a black tide onto the main deck. A sudden roar of voices followed, and I recognized the high-pitched tones of our coolies.
"All hands—help! All hands aft—quick!" I yelled, and fired into the black figures who swarmed up the poop and crowded upon me.
As I fired, I heard the shrill screams of the elder Miss MacDonald, and then there was indiscriminate firing. I yelled to Slade, and he answered once. The crowd surged over me, and I was down, with a dozen panting heathens on top of me. In a minute it was all over. Some one passed a line about my arms, and, kick as I might, they soon had me snug and fast. Gantline roared out orders from the wheel, and I heard the crack of a pistol at rapid intervals. Then a roaring, surging mob rolled over him—and there was the schooner luffing to under full sail, her head sheets thrashing and the canvas thundering in the stiff breeze.
They had taken her. We were overpowered, all right. The men forward stood it out but a moment longer, and surrendered.
When I could see again I noticed the giant form of Yellow Dog standing near the wheel, and two of his men at the wheel spokes. He sang out orders in his musical bass voice, and the sheets were quickly trimmed in. The schooner now headed well up with the wind abeam, and pointed away across the Pacific, far to the northward of Hawaii. Yellow Dog had taken her easily.
I was hauled below, and tossed into the forward cabin. Here I found Slade lashed fast, like myself. He was hurt by a bullet that had torn his thigh, and was bleeding. Upon a transom lay Gantline, trussed from head to foot in line, and the old skipper was swearing fiercely at the ill fortune that had overtaken his ship.
I noticed a few Chinks standing near the door of the after cabin, and they looked at us casually, seeming to regard us not at all. Then I heard the soft voice of Miss Aline pleading with Yellow Dog. But of course she might have pleaded with the sea with as much effect. Then the sounds died away, and we lay there, waiting for daylight and what might follow.
Daylight came, and the schooner still held her way under all sail except the jib topsail that I had hauled down before the fracas. She now lay at a sharp angle, and felt the trade wind upon her starboard beam.