“Mutiny! mutiny!” shouted the captain. “Suffer the fate of a mutineer!” and, drawing a pistol from his belt he fired.
I expected to see my old friend fall, but the bullet merely grazed one of his grey whiskers; and, fixing his eye on the captain, he answered—
“The Lord forgive thee, and be thankful thou hast not murdered an old man who is acting as his conscience bids him.”
The captain, unmoved by this rebuke, was about to draw another pistol.
“I must save Martin, even at the hazard of my own life,” I exclaimed, and was about to spring aft to strike up the pistol when the cry arose—
“Another enemy close aboard us!”
Looking round, I saw, looming large through the fog, the wide-spread canvas of a tall ship coming up on our quarter.