But the covers must have been lost overboard, for they were nowhere to be found. The firing from the hold still continued.
“Loosen the gun, and load it with grape,” cried I. “Forward with it, and fire down the hatchway.”
The shot struck among the closely packed slaves, and a fearful, heart-rending cry rent the air. Oh God! I shall never forget it. Yet still the madmen continued their fire.
“Load, and fire again.”
My men were now mad with rage, and fought more like devils than human beings.
“Once more, my lads,” cried I; but this time they 112 pushed the gun so madly forward, that both it and the carriage were precipitated with a fearful crash into the hold. At the same moment a cloud of smoke burst forth from the hold.
“They have fired the brig,” cried Jigmaree. “Back to the schooner, or we shall be blown into the air like onion peels.”
But the schooner had got loose, and was fast leaving us. Gelid, Wagtail, and Reefpoint, were on board; the latter, though badly wounded, had crept out of his hammock, and on deck. They made us understand, by signs, that they could not hoist the sails, and that, moreover, the rudder was shot away, and the vessel unmanageable in consequence.
“Up with the foresail, men,” cried I; “hoist the foresail, and get the brig under way, or we are lost.”
My men obeyed my orders with the calmness of desperation. I took hold of the wheel myself, and in a few moments we lay alongside of our vessel once more. It was high time, for already some hundred and fifty unfettered slaves had rushed on deck, and we had hardly time to spring on board, to escape the furious charge they made on us from the hinder part of the vessel. The murderous fire of grape shot they had endured, had made them perfectly mad with rage, and had they been able to get at us we should undoubtedly have been torn to pieces.