ide with a hand directing it, when
_bang_, _crash_--down came Soup's capstan bar, striking pistol and hand
with such good effect that they were snatched back, and a burst of
fierce oaths came up.

"Well done, my lad!" cried Mark; and the black looked at him and showed
his white teeth as he stood watchful, and ready, with the bar raised for
another blow.

By this time the men had laid hold of the end of the cable and drawn
some two or three fathoms up from the little forward compartment, while
Tom Fillot and Bannock seized the loose hatch ready to clap on.

"No, no," cried Mark, hastily; "don't expose yourselves needlessly, my
lads. Lie down and crawl toward the hatchway, pushing the cable before
you."

"Thought you'd fancy we were cowardly, sir," said Tom, obeying his
orders.

"Then don't think so again, sir," cried Mark, who wondered at his own
sharpness and authoritative way. "Now then, stand by all. Ready?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Hah! look-out!"

_Crash_.

"Well done, my lad."

This was as a pistol was once more thrust out, and the hand which held
it appeared ready for Soup to hit at, which he did, and missed. But,
all the same, the hand and pistol disappeared, and the next minute Tom
and Dick, one on each side, thrust the cover over the hatch as they
crawled forward, Tom flinging himself across it, while the rest of the
men hauled away, and began to pile on the chain cable.

_Bang_ again--a pistol-shot fired up through the hatchway lid, and Tom
gave a sharp start.

"Ah! Hurt?" cried Mark, excitedly, as the sailor rolled over, while as
quickly as possible more of the cable was piled up where he had lain.

"Dunno yet, sir," said Tom, rising up and feeling his side. "Something
give me an awful whack on the ribs. Don't look like a dead 'un, do I?"

"Don't say you're wounded, Tom," said Mark, in a hoarse whisper.

"Wasn't going to, sir," replied the man, whose hands were still busy
feeling his side. "No, I don't think I'm wounded; don't feel like it--
only savage, and as if I should like to drop on to the chap as fired
that shot. I know: I have it. The bullet must have hit the chain, and
drove it against my ribs. I'm all right, sir. Deal o' fight in me
yet."

"Thank Heaven!" said Mark to himself, as he thought of how helpless he
would have been without the frank young sailor who was completely his
strong right hand.

By this time the hatch was loaded with coil upon coil of the strong
chain,