The men took to the idea at once, and we grouped close under the shelter of the windlass, watching the schooner run. She was going a full ten, and rising and falling with a rhythmic motion, her side, where the patch was, being almost clear of the sea.
Yellow Dog saw us, and knew what we intended to do. He swung his boat around and pulled dead into the wind's eye, knowing that if we missed him we would not get a chance to strike again until we beat well up to windward of him. He would make it warm on deck as we came close, and Gantline took the precaution to place a few boards against the binnacle, so that he could crouch behind them when the firing began. I was to wave my hand which way he should steer, and he was to keep me in sight readily.
We drew rapidly up to the boat. Yellow Dog stood up in the stern, and held a long, black-barreled revolver in his hand.
We crouched lower, and the schooner bore down upon the boat. I waved my hand to starboard, and Gantline gave her a few spokes. Yellow Dog backed water, and the boat would have gone clear of the cutwater, but at that instant a heavier puff of wind heeled the schooner over, and she luffed to a trifle, her cutwater rising upon a swell.
Then, with the downward plunge, she shored through the small boat, striking it fairly amidships.
I was so taken up with the affair that I poked my head too far over the rail, and a bullet ripped my cheek open, knocking me head over heels with the shock.
I scrambled to my feet, furious with the pain and excitement. The fragments of the small boat drifted alongside, the after part going to leeward, and dragging along the channels. I saw Slade spring upon the rail for an instant, and then plunge overboard.
Holding my bleeding face with one hand, I ran to the forechannels, and saw Yellow Dog grasp the chains as they washed past. He had a mighty grip, and that hand hold of his was a wonder. He drew himself into the chains, and, without waiting, clambered up and over the rail, springing to the deck right in front of me as I backed away.
Oleson saw him coming, and so did a seaman named Wales. The three of us closed on him, and dragged him down, and we rolled in the lee scuppers, a fighting, snarling pile of humanity, while Gantline let the wheel go, and ran to help us.
Yellow Dog tossed the three of us off with the ease of a man throwing aside children, and would have taken charge in another moment, but Gantline, running up behind him with a handspike, swung the bar down with full force upon that little skullcap, and the giant Chink stretched out harmless. We had him trussed before the schooner had stopped her headway into the breeze.