"Who could think of waterproofs at a time like this?" he said, with his lips to my ear. Then with a start, as he turned his head and looked forward--"What's that?"

I had heard a cry as he spoke.

"I don't know," I said. "Why, it must be some one wounded crying for help."

"It is what Mr Brymer and I heard several times before," said Mr Preddle excitedly. "He thought it must be one of the mutineers who had escaped aloft at first, afraid to stir to come down."

"I don't think it could be that," I said. "It didn't sound like being up aloft."

"So he said. Then he thought--"

"There it is again," cried Mr Denning and I heard, above the shrieking of the wind and the hissing spray, a despairing kind of wail, as if some one called for help.

"Why, it's forward somewhere," I said, with a curious shudder running through me which was not caused by the wind and spray.

"Yes, that's what Mr Brymer said; but he went and searched all about forward."

"Then it must be one of the men below--one who is wounded," I said. "Do you think we could send Mr Frewen down to his help?"

"Not without letting your prisoners loose," said Mr Denning, decisively. "I'm sorry for the man, but he must suffer for the present."

"It's very horrible," I said; "for he may be very bad--dying perhaps."

"Yes," said Mr Denning coldly; "but it was not our work, I suppose."

"There it is again," said Mr Preddle. "When the mate was here, he felt sure that some one had crept overboard, and down to what he called the stays under the bowsprit."

"When the attack was made?" I cried. "Yes, that must be it. There it goes again. That was certainly 'Help!'"

"Yes."

"He must be afraid of falling. Why, the vessel keeps on driving into these great waves, and at every dip down he must be nearly drowned."

"What are you going to do, Dale?" cried Mr Denning.

"Find out where he is, and then lower a rope to him; and when he has fastened it round him, we must haul him on board, even if he is another enemy. There'll be no need to be afraid of him."

I was trying to make out where I could most handily find a rope, when, plainly heard above the heavy beating of the waves against our bows, as the ship rose and fell in her wild race onward through the dense blackness ahead, there was the murmur of a voice and a loud movement below the hatch we were guarding.

Then distinctly heard came the words--

"Give me room then," and this was followed by a crashing sound, and a jar against my hand as I held on to the side of the hatchway.

"They've got a chopper, and are going to cut their way out!" I said excitedly. And almost as I spoke there was another dull blow, and this was followed by a cheer.

"What are you going to do?" I cried, as Mr Preddle held on with one hand, and presented his revolver at the door of the hatchway.

A flash and a dull report served for my answer then; and as the bullet crashed through the woodwork, there was a yell, a dull sound as of a fall, and then in the momentary silence Mr Preddle said--

"Those were my orders; I was obliged."

A ragged volley was fired then from below, and we heard the bullets striking the wood, and saw two or three splitting the thick wood at the top of the hatchway. But we stood back too much for either of them to touch us, as we listened, trying to distinguish the words said, as we pictured, no doubt pretty accurately, what was going on in the forecastle; for a dull groaning told only too plainly that Mr Preddle's shot had taken effect.

What I pictured was the men lifting their bleeding companion forward to one of the bunks, while others were talking and raging furiously about the shot.

I shuddered, and yet I felt excited, and that it was a necessity. And just then I made out Jarette's voice shouting at the men, and giving some order which only evoked a deep growl.

"I don't like having to fire like that," said Mr Preddle just then; "and I feel now as if I ought to fetch the doctor.--Ah, Frewen," he cried, "I've just shot one of the men."

For there were Mr Frewen, the mate, and Barney Blane, all panting and eager to help us.

I told him what had happened, and Mr Brymer said quietly--

"On their own heads be it. This may act as a warning to them. But there must be no hesitation; our lives and that of Miss Denning depend upon swift action. At the first stroke of an axe, fire again."

"I will," said Mr Preddle firmly; and by the light of the lantern I saw that the chambers of his revolver were exposed, and that he was thrusting in a fresh cartridge.

"Ought we to send down Mr Frewen?" said Mr Denning just then.

"Don't ask absurd questions, sir," replied Mr Brymer angrily. "Come, Frewen. Now, my lad."

He turned away, and before following, Barney Blane got beside me, to say in my ear--

"Disappynted again, sir. I did think I was to have a go at Frenchy now."

He hurried off; and the shrieking of the wind ceased for a few moments, during which we strained our ears to try and make out what went on below, when very faintly, but the word distinctly heard, came the cry--

"Help!"

"There is some one forward there by the bowsprit!" I cried excitedly; and leaving my companions, I crept to the bows, and, holding on tightly, climbed up and looked over, seeing nothing but the foaming water churned up by the ship as she plunged on and on, looking as if she were moment by moment going to split upon what might have been one huge black rock right ahead.

I changed my position, and got to the other side of the bowsprit to hold on and look over there, but still I could see nothing, and though I shouted again and again there was no reply.

"n.o.body could possibly be hanging on there," I thought, as I tried to pierce the mist of spray; and I felt that if low down on the stays, he would be dipped at every plunge, and drowned in a few minutes, and if higher, to a certainty, unless lashed to the ropes, be washed off.

I stayed some minutes, hailing again and again, with my voice carried forward by the wind, and then made my way back to my two companions, whose faces were turned inquiringly toward me as I shook my head.

"There can't be any one there," I said. "It's impossible."

"So Mr Brymer thought," said Mr Preddle. "He said he would be either washed off or drowned, and that it must be one of the men below."

"There it is again," said Mr Denning; "and it is below."

"Yes; there!" I cried, for there was a heavy banging at a bulk-head, and some one shouted savagely to whoever cried for help to be quiet, and then a shot was fired, but not at us.

"The wretches!" I said.

"The wretch!" said Mr Denning. "That was Jarette's voice, I'm sure; and he must have fired."