“It will certainly come to that,” said Mr Felton quietly. And no one entertained the least question on that score.
“We have one ally more,” observed the master, who had for some time been sniffing the night air. “Unless I mistake, there’s a sou’-wester coming up in a jiffy.”
“I think you are right, master,” said Mr Felton. “That will put us over to the Dutch side, anyhow.”
“And there’s another ally yet, sir,” said I. “They’ve got possession of the two casks of rum that were last shipped at Dublin.”
“In that case,” said the second lieutenant, laughing, “we may count on a full hour before we are disturbed. If we are to make a fight of it, let it be a good one. Gentlemen,” said he, addressing the company, “the quarter-deck is still ours; twenty-five loyal men are a match for two hundred and fifty scoundrels any day. Bring the stern-guns into position, and throw up a barricade here. Look to your pistols and swords, and don’t waste bullets or powder. The worst they can do is to blow the ship up, and that they won’t do.—Master, you were right about the breeze. Bring her round as soon as she moves.—And some of you young gentlemen,” said he to the midshipmen, “be ready to bear a hand aloft with the sails.—Mr Gallagher, watch your chance of getting round to the forecastle and doctoring the guns there. You are not a new hand, I hear, at such a job.—Now, gentlemen all, we can but die once; let us do it well while we are about it.”
This spirited address had a great effect, and whatever sense of helplessness had been caused by the disparity of our numbers and the strong position of the mutineers, gave way to a desperate resolve to give a good account of ourselves before we yielded up the ship.
I could not help believing that some of the older and more experienced hands, though now borne down by the general feeling of insubordination, would side with us if only we could show a strong hand. If so, there would not be seamanship enough in the rest to set a topsail or read a chart; and every moment the breeze was freshening and promising us a lively morning.
The Zebra still hung listlessly in the water, but any moment now she might get under way. There was no time therefore to be lost in getting unobserved at the forward guns, which I was convinced was only to be done by dropping overboard and swimming round to the stem, where there was sufficient hanging tackle to help oneself on board with.
I secured the services of the master’s mate in this perilous venture—a tough sea-dog who was ready for anything, provided it was out of the commonplace. This business, I promised him, would at least be that.
The quartermaster had charge of the helm.