from the Spanish
three-master's deck.

"Oh, fire, Joe--fire!" whispered Rodd. "We shall have another shot from
her directly."

"Yes, my lad, I know; but I want to make sure of a little more
light.--_Fire_!" he said, directly afterwards.

A spark was seen to sink at once upon the touch-hole of the long gun,
there was a deep roar as she seemed to leap from the deck, a heavy
instantaneous crash, and then a return shot which went wide of their
schooner.

"You've hit, Joe," cried Rodd excitedly, as he stood amidst the smoke,
which began to spread about where they gathered.

"Yes, sir, I hit," said the man, with a half-laugh, as the crew of the
gun busied themselves sponging out and preparing to re-load. "They
pretty well filled her to the muzzle, but they got what they meant for
us. But hallo! what's the meaning of this 'ere? What's the matter with
us now?"

Only this, that the _Maid of Salcombe_ was adrift and threatening, if
something were not done to bring her up, to drift ashore not far from
where the faint morning light revealed the brig lying right over on her
side as helpless as any hulk.

Joe Cross, closely followed by the lads, ran forward to the bows, Rodd
one side, Joe and Morny the other.

"Why, the cable must have broke adrift," cried the coxswain, leaning
over, to see that the great rope was hanging down straight from the
starboard hawse-hole.

"Cut, Joe, cut," shouted Rodd. "Quick! Look out!" For as he had
leaned over the bulwarks just above the larboard hawse-hole, a great
swarthy mulatto, knife in hand, was climbing up, and as soon as he
caught sight of the lad he made for him at once.

Rodd stood upon his guard and managed to strike aside the thrust made at
him by the mulatto; but the latter was lithe and active as a monkey. He
struck at the boy again, and as Rodd gave way the fellow threw himself
on to the rail and sprang over, but only to be cut down by Joe Cross,
who had answered the boy's call.

It was the saving of Rodd's life, but the mulatto was dangerous still,
and recovering himself he made a dash at Morny, who stepped aside,
while, with all the ferociousness of a Malay running amok, the man
sprang aft, avoided two or three cuts made at him by the sailors, and
then plunged over the side, to begin swimming towards the three-master,
which was in the act of sending another shot at the doctor's vessel.

This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in
all