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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Vairy good, then, my friends, we were going to offer you a happy life and a share in our prize, but you will not take them, so we shall have to pitch you both overboard." "As Neb says, I should just like to ketch yer at it," roared Blane. "Lookye here, Frenchy," cried Dumlow in his strange growl, "you make these beggars loosen this here line, and I'll fight yer one hand."
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.
The heat seemed a little less intense now, but it was so terrible that the throbbing in my head commenced again, and I was ready to order an attempt to be made to force up one side of the hatch, when there was a whisper. "What say, Bob?" I replied. "Didn't speak, sir," was the reply. "You then, Dumlow?" "No; not me, sir." "Well then, Barney, it was you," I said tetchily. "What do you want?"
"Well, I don't know, sir; I've been thinking as perhaps we could." "But how, man? We can't get through all these cases and barrels and things." "No, sir; but praps we might manage to creep along over 'em. One on us ought to volunteer to try." "All right; volunteer it is," growled Dumlow. "I'll go." "There you are, Mr Dale, sir. Never say die.
"He's got it, sir," said Bob Hampton. "It's what I thought, and it's a rum 'un." "Then, where are we?" I said pettishly; for my head kept on feeling as if it was spinning round. "Why, sir," said Dumlow; "we're down in the hold among them sperrit casks as was stowed by themselves, and some one's been opening one of 'em with a gimlet and letting us all drink." "Hist!" Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Barney ran up to us, and the gun was dragged to the open gangway, ready for the mutineers, as they still rowed on. "Neb, old lad," cried Bob, "give a hye to the red-hot poker, and when I cries `Sarvice! out you runs with it, and hands it to me." "Ay, ay," growled Dumlow, in his deepest bass. "It's all right, Mr Dale, sir," whispered Bob.
Shall I start?" "Yes," I replied, and without a moment's pause he rose, thrust his head and shoulders into the hole, and as he drew himself in, he began to whistle. "He'd better save his wind," grumbled Dumlow. "He'll want it soon." "Ay, that's the worst o' young chaps, they're so wasteful," muttered Bob Hampton. "But they thinks they knows best. How are you getting on, messmate?"
I said huskily, as I took a tin, made Dumlow lay some biscuits on the wooden boarding over the hatch, and I held the tin ready while the cook filled it from the ladle. The next minute, with my hand trembling, I handed the first tin and a biscuit down, for both to be snatched from me. Then I shivered and felt that all was over, for a familiar voice said
"Well, yes, I confess I was, but I thought of our lad here too. I suppose you will have to lie up, Dumlow?" The big fellow gave quite a start, and then turned frowning and spat in the sea, in token of his disgust. "Me, sir me lie up!" he growled. "What for?" "You are wounded." "Wounded? Tchah! I don't call that a wound. Why, it arn't bled much more than a cut finger. Me under a hawning!
"Ay, ay, sir," he shouted, going down on one knee to point the little gun. "Sarvice!" There was a growl from forward, and Neb Dumlow came limping from the galley, along the narrow piece of deck, by where the steam still rose, and flourishing a red-hot poker, hurried to our side. "Cap'en o' the gun says Stand well from behind; keep alongside, 'cause she kicks. One moment. I can't get no better aim.
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