"Here is the stick," and without turning my head, I reached back my
hand, took it, and passed out the great hook. It was ash, I remember,
and of a light brown.
It was none too soon, for all at once right along the deck I saw a
flash, then a white puff of smoke as Jarette knelt down, lit a match,
and held it to the dust upon the deck.
Above the smoke in one glance I saw Walters slinking back behind the
main-mast, and then the white vapour shut off everything, so that I
reached out unseen, hooked the powder-bag, and after two or three tries
drew it in, and shut the door close.
"What is it?" cried Mr Frewen, excitedly; "are they coming?" There was
no time to answer. I leaped over the breastwork with the powder-bag in
my hand, meaning to run to the stern-window and throw it out, but I
thought it might be useful, and I rushed into Mr Preddle's room to
stand holding it behind me as there came a loud hiss and rush, and the
saloon began to fill with smoke.
As soon as the danger was over I went out, leaving the powder upon Mr
Preddle's cot, and told them why I had rushed by.
"Oh, come, that's better," said the captain; "we thought you were
showing the white feather, boy. So you hooked the powder-bag?"
"Yes, there it is," I said. "Ah, well, this is no time for praise,"
said the captain. "You did your duty well, my lad. Yes, it would have
been a pity to have thrown the stuff overboard, we might have wanted it
to send back with our compliments, eh? Leaden ones. What is it,
Brymer?"
"Hist! Jarette is outside, looking astonished that the powder has not
done any damage."
"And he'll be trying it again," said Mr Frewen, who, after a few words
with the captain, took his gun, placed a chair on the saloon-table, and
then mounted upon it, thus bringing his head well up in the sky-light
and above the level of the deck, so that he could watch Jarette's
motions if he attempted the same plan.
In addition, after glancing astern to see whether he was out of the
steersman's sight, he wrenched open the window a little more, pushed out
the barrel of his gun, and stood there waiting.
He was not kept long before he saw the man come on deck bearing a
heavier bag of powder, and he was in the act of sitting down in one of
the cane seats near the rail to tie on a piece of string, when, with all
the caution of some wild bird, he looked sharply round for danger.
In an instant he had caught sight of the barrel of the gun thrust
through the window, and making a bound he reached the ladder, and swung
himself down upon the main-deck, where he stood with the powder-bag in
his hand, as if hesitating as to what he should do.
The men were watching him, and he knew it. They must have noticed his
ignoble retreat, and here was the way to redeem his character.
This he did by coming straight to the cabin-door, and depositing the bag
there, opening it, and throwing out several handfuls of powder to help
form the train; but just at that moment the door was snatched open, and
a gun thrust out so suddenly that it struck the mutinous leader on the
side, and he leaped back, lost his balance, and fell heavily upon his
back, while a roar of laughter arose from his followers.
Jarette leaped up with a cry of rage, snatched a pistol from his belt,
and bravely enough dashed at the door; but as he nearly reached it,
there was the sharp report of a gun, and almost simultaneously there was
a burst of flame from the deck, a heavy rushing sound,--and the mutineer
disappeared in a dense white cloud of smoke, out of which he staggered
back to his followers, panting, startled, but, with the exception of a
little singeing, unhurt.