ience to an
order previously given, the cabin door was dragged open.

"What d'yer say to a rush, sir?" whispered Tom Fillot.

He had hardly uttered the words, when there was a fresh crashing noise,
a heavy report, and a splintering of wood, accompanied by a strange
rustling sound. The door was clapped to again and fastened, and as
there was a rush of feet, a shouting of orders, and the sound of axes
being used, the schooner swung round, stopped, and the prisoners set up
a cheer.

"Mainmast down by the board," cried Tom Fillot, slapping his leg. "We
can aim straight, sir, arter all."

Mark forgot the smarting and throbbing from his burns on the instant, as
he snatched out his dirk, for knowing as well as if he could see
everything that the whole of the after-rigging was lying across the deck
and dragging at the side, so that the schooner lay on the water like a
gull with a broken wing, he felt that in a few minutes a couple of
boats' crews from the _Nautilus_ would be aboard; and if there was to be
any resistance, now was the time to make a diversion.

"Make ready, my lads," he cried. "Cutlasses only. Quick!"

Just then there was a fresh crackling and breaking sound, and the
skylight, through which he had meant to lead his men, was also darkened
by the falling over it of a part of the great sail and the gaff; so that
they were in twilight.

"Better try the door, sir," cried Tom Fillot. "We'll kick it out now,
sir; there's nothing behind."

"Quick, then, quick!" cried Mark, excitedly; and the men went at it with
a cheer, while the shouting of orders on deck grew more loud and angry.

"We must get out, Tom," cried Mark, "and make a desperate effort
ourselves. If the boats get here first, they will claim to have taken
the schooner, and rob us of all the honour."

"We'll try, sir," cried Tom. "Go it, my lads! Lay your backs into it.
Soup, heave!"

But the door resisted all their efforts, and it was evident that the
Americans had wedged it with a couple of pieces of wood.

"Oh, this is maddening," cried Mark. "They mustn't find us prisoners
here below."

"Let's try the skylight, sir," cried Tom Fillot; and at a word from
Mark, he mounted the little table, and began to drag at the heavy
canvas, so as to get it aside, but came down with a crash, as there was
a flash and the report of a pistol.

"Hurt, Tom?" cried Mark, in agony, as he went down on one knee in the
dim cabin, and caught at the sailor's