“Take down the lantern,” he said, quietly.
The man stared at the muzzle of Jeffray’s pistol, and hesitated.
“Take down the lantern, or by the love of God I’ll fire on you!”
Captain George climbed the table, and, swaying from side to side, took down the lantern from its hook. Jeffray turned and spoke to Bess, steadying himself against the bunk as the ship rolled with the waves.
“God keep you, dear; it may be our last chance! I must do my best.”
She looked up at him and smiled.
“I am not afraid of the dark,” she answered.
Jeffray had thrown his cloak over his shoulders, and he kept his pistols covered so that the priming should not be damped in the pans.
“Where are your men, captain?”
“In the fo’c’sle.”