“What shall we do now?” asked Dick, as the boats were coming alongside. “Our friends will look upon us as deserters, and perhaps string us up at the yard-arm.”
“Not much fear of that,” said Lancelot. “We can tell who we are and how we came to be on board.”
“But will they believe us?” asked Dick. “The rest of the crew will prove that we have been helping the gunners to load their pieces by bringing powder from the magazine.”
“Just trust in God, young masters,” said Martin, who had overheard them.
We had not much time for talking before the crews of the three boats which had been sent sprang on board. The officer in command at once ordered the whole of the “rovers” to muster aft. Of well-nigh two hundred men who had commenced the action, one half were dead or wounded. The survivors stood with downcast looks, expecting no gentle treatment.
“You have taken up arms without lawful authority against the Parliament, and you must be prepared for the punishment due to you, unless the admiral thinks fit to remit it,” explained the officer, casting his eye over the men. “Have you anything to say for yourselves?”
There was no reply until Lancelot stepped aft, followed by Martin, Dick, and me.
“We were on board against our will, sir,” he said, “and acknowledge the Parliament as the supreme authority in the realm.” He then described how we had been rescued by the Charles when on our way from Dartmouth to Lyme.
“A likely story, young master,” said the officer; “but I will talk to you more anon. The rest of you tumble into the boats and go peaceably on board the ships to which they will convey you.”
Nearly half the men had already taken their seats in the three boats which had shoved off, when the cry arose, “The ship is sinking!”