horror, dimly-seen through and beneath the ascending steam, were four
men who had climbed on board.

"We're licked, Mr Dale, sir; but hit, shoot, do anything as they come
over the side. Do, dear lad, shoot Frenchy, whatever you do. Now then,
let 'em have it, for Old England's sake and sweet home! Here they
come!"

Jarette and four men rose up now suddenly in the chains, climbed on to
the bulwark, and were about to leap down, and with a desperate feeling
of horror, I raised my gun to fire. But there was a rush and a cheer as
the men from forward rushed down to us, and I was roughly jostled, my
aim diverted; but the trigger was being pulled, and the piece went off
loudly.

The next moment blows were being given and taken. Mr Frewen was
fighting furiously, and well seconded by Bob and Barney. Jarette and
his men were checked, two going down, and to my astonishment they fell
from blows given by the four men who had dashed forward.

It was all one horrid confusion, for now one of these men turned on me,
and wrested the gun from my grasp, though I tugged at it hard. Then it
was pointed and fired at Jarette--not at me--missing him though, but
making him lose his foot-hold, and fall with a heavy splash into the
sea.

"Hurray!" yelled Bob.

"Give it to 'em," cried Barney; and I saw Mr Frewen strike one with a
revolver in his hand, but using his fist as if he were boxing, and
another man went backwards into the boat, while a blow or two from Neb
Dumlow's capstan-bar, which Barney had picked up, sufficed to clear the
chains.

I looked over the side for a moment, and saw a man holding out an oar to
Jarette, who was swimming; but there was a rush of feet again, and the
men who had come over the bows were running back just in time to drive
back three more, tumbling them over into the sea, to regain their boat
the best way they could.

Then these four, headed by the man who had led them, began to cheer, and
came running back toward us, the man who had snatched my gun, and whom I
saw now to be the cook, shouting louder than all the rest put together.

"What, are you on our side, then, old Plum Duff?" cried Dumlow, who was
now sitting up.

"Seems like it, Neb," cried the cook. "Here, Mr Dale, sir, load
quickly and fire, or they'll come on again."

He handed me the gun, and I rapidly opened the breech and slipped in the
cartridges, just as firing began from aft, and I saw that Mr Frewen was
standing against the com