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Updated: May 10, 2025
Without a moment's delay, the first lieutenant issued the order to make sail, while Mr Webley hurried forward to see the cable cut, as she tended the right way. Like larks we sprang aloft to loose the topsails, and all was done so silently and so rapidly, that the Frenchmen could not make out what was occurring.
In the yard were some infantry and a few cavalry. I had only my stick my Webley revolver was still in its holster. There was nothing to do but put on a bold front, so I shouted in Arabic to the man I took to be the officer in command, telling him to surrender, and trying to act as if our forces were just outside.
At this moment a flaw of wind coming down the harbour, Lieutenant Webley said to me, "I believe, sir, we shall be able to fetch out if we can get her under sail." I immediately perceived we should have a chance of saving the ship; at least, if we did not, we ought not to lose her without a struggle.
Having told how Amaryllis had fainted at the sight of Ockley with the knife-point protruding from the back of his neck, he extracted the Webley from his overcrowded pocket. "That," he said, "is the man's gun, which Miss Caldegard found for me." Later, he produced Mut-mut's baag-nouk, laying it, talons upward, beside the Webley. "That was strapped to his hand.
She had heard the commandant informing the landlady, a grand low comedy character from Brooklyn, who had the room next to Cecil's. I interviewed the landlady who was sitting up in bed in curl papers, and with a Webley revolver. She was quite hysterical so I aroused Loosberg who was too sleepy to understand.
Only three of the lot could run. I merely scuttled into the next bamboo, and kept on scuttling. No: they weren't half loaded. Oh, yes, arrow in the shoulder scratch. Of course, when it came dark, I stopped running, and made for the nearest fisherman. That's all." "But," protested Rudolph, wondering, "we heard shots." "Yes, I had my Webley in my belt. Fortunately.
Every one was puzzled to know the meaning of a visit at so unusual an hour, and anxious to know what it meant. A well-manned boat came alongside, and two French officers, with several other people, scrambled up on deck. "Be smart, then, my lads, with the kedge," sung out Mr Webley, third lieutenant, from forward. "We must get the ship afloat before the wind drives her further on."
There were many such interlopers among the U.S. Martials: an English ounce-ball cavalry pistol, a French 1777 and a French 1773, a couple more $6.95 bargain-counter specials, a miserable altered S. North 1816. Among the Colts, there was some awful junk, including a big Spanish hinge-frame .44 and a Belgian imitation of a Webley R.I.C. Model.
Some would scarcely believe it, and the officers and many of the men hurried aft in a body to ascertain the fact. Mr Webley had remained forward, and before we had been able to haul on the warp she had laid out, he promptly recalled the launch, and ordered the people out of her up the side. The boatswain was standing near him.
A boy with a fifteen-and-sixpenny toy revolver you can laugh at and squelch; but, Alamachtig! a big man with a Webley and Scott was another thing. And the frowy barrier of thick, coarsely-clad, bulky bodies and scowling, yellow-tan faces, began to melt away.
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