t if the reports were
faint in the din, the flashes were bright and clear, and in place of
charging at us they hung back, and we were upon them in an instant. I
say we, for somehow or other I did as the others did, and the men gave
in directly and were marched to the hatch, below which jarette could be
heard raving at his fellow-prisoners.

"Now," cried Mr Brymer, "you know me, my lads; I never say things I
don't mean. The moment that hatch is opened, you jump down. If you
hesitate I fire."

"But old Frenchy will fire up as soon as it's opened."

"He will not fire at you."

"But he may hit us, sir."

"Open that hatch, Mr Preddle," cried Brymer, and he cocked his pistol,
Mr Frewen following suit.

"That's right, sir; fire too, in case I miss."

"But," cried the man, imploringly, "let me stay on deck, and I'll return
to my duty."

"We don't want you, dog!" cried Mr Frewen.

"Down with you!" roared Mr Brymer, as the hatch flew up, and there was
a flash and report, which the man waited for, and then leaped.

"Down with you!" cried Mr Brymer again, but the other two men
hesitated, and were hanging back. The next moment they went down
headlong, impelled as they were by Bob Hampton and Dumlow.

"There," cried Bob Hampton, as we all stood there breathless with
excitement, and quite forgetful of the storm raging round us, "if
anybody had told me, Neb, as Barney would have been such a cur, I'd ha'
hit him in the mouth for a liar."

"Yah!" growled Dumlow, "and I've shook hands with him and called him
`mate' scores o' times. Yah!"

"Never mind, gents, we've done it, eh?" cried Bob Hampton.

"God bless you both for true men!" cried Mr Brymer, holding out his
hands to them, and for a few minutes there was a general hand-shaking
all round.

"But we're forgetting the men at the wheel," said Mr Frewen. "How many
are there? Two?"

"Oh, they're a couple o' soft Tommy sort of chaps," said Bob Hampton.
"I can settle them two with one hand. That arn't the worst on it, sir;
we've got to tackle Barney Blane. No, I won't do it for fear I should
finish him, and you'd best steer out o' that job, Neb."

"If I don't, I shall sarve him like a wornut, mate."

"Dessay you would, my lad. We'll sponge over the two lads at the wheel
while the gents does Barney. Hit him, gents, or shoot him somewhere low
down, for he desarves it; all I wonder now is as he did not split all
about it to old Frenchy."

"We could all deal