"Anything would be better than surrender; but I doubt your idea being practical. To lower a boat full of people while the ship is still under weigh sounds a damnably difficult proceeding."
"She won't be. Gunfire will have reduced her speed, and Cummins be on the point of surrender, or if he decides to fight it out they'll be about to board us. In either case we'll be as good as hove-to. The Frenchman may send off a boat to chase us, but there's a fair chance that he'll be too fully occupied. Anyway we should be able to secure a good lead. The sea is calm and in an hour's time we'll be within fifteen miles of the coast. It will be a stiff pull but with you and I, Dan, Tom, and Pirouet, we should be able to reach it."
Charles's brown face brightened. "I believe you're right. What do you wish me to do?"
"Go down and warn the girls. Tell them to pack small cases. Nothing heavy. No more than each of them can carry—just their valuables and greatest necessities. I'll inform the men of our intention. The gig is the lightest boat, so we'll take that. While everyone has their eyes fixed on the pirate, Dan will have no difficulty in giving her a quick look over without attracting attention. He'll see to it that there's water in her, and make sure that her gear is in running order so that we'll be able to get her out speedily."
As they were about to turn towards the poop ladder they saw again the bright flash of the Frenchman's bow gun. It was followed by a puff of white smoke and, a moment later, the dull boom of the charge. The report was still echoing across the water when the shot crashed into one of the Circe's after cabins. A piercing scream came from below.
Scrambling down the ladder Roger and Charles ran aft along the passage under the poop fearful of what they would find. To their relief their wives were safe, but they were greatly distressed at the scene they came upon in the big after cabin. Poor little Nell lay with her head in Amanda's lap. The round shot had come through one of the cabin windows and had taken her arm off near the shoulder. For a yard around the place was spattered with her blood, and it was impossible to staunch the bleeding from so great a wound. Within five minutes she was dead.
Roger had already told them all that they must not use the big cabin because it would be dangerous; but it emerged that she had gone in there to fetch something and, by ill chance, the shot had crashed through the window just at that moment. Now, having covered her up, he hurried the others into the store-room amidships, where they would be protected on all sides by bulkheads. Leaving Charles to tell them of his plan, he went to his own cabin, hastily stuffed a few things into his pockets, collected his sword and pistols, and went in search of Dan.
When he came out on deck again the Frenchman was perceptibly nearer, and had landed another round, shattering one of the starboard mizen chains. Each time Circe came into the wind to alter tack she fired back, and now she scored her first hit. A cheer went up from the men who were manning the gun, and striding over to the bos'n who was acting as layer, Roger cried:
"Well done! If you .can hit her often enough she may abandon the chase. I'll give five pounds for every shot that finds a mark, and a hundred if you can bring down one of her masts."
With another cheer the gun crew set about reloading, and hurrying across to Cummins, Roger asked:
"What do you think of our prospects, Captain?"
The Captain glumly shook his head. "They're none too good, Sir. Unless we can dismast her she'll come up with us before we make the point. Then a couple of broadsides will likely carry away enough of our gear to bring us to; so she'll be able to board us."
"You mean to fight though?"
"There's nought else for it. Were she a privateer I'd surrender; but pirates are very different cattle. They'll not risk letting us go, so as we could later get a ship o' war sent from Jamaica to hunt them out. If we're taken, they'll hang you gentlemen an' me and my officers from the yard arm, or worse. Better by half to do our damnedest to drive them off, or die fighting if need be."
Roger nodded agreement, and having satisfied himself that there would be no premature surrender, went in search of Dan. On finding his faithful henchman, he quickly outlined his idea for getting the women away in the gig during the height of the fight if the Circe's crew looked like being worsted. The ex-smuggler agreed that it could be done and they settled the details. He was to look over the gig, then keep Tom and Pirouet near him, and once the Circe was boarded keep an eye on Roger. If Roger took out his handkerchief and waved it, they were all to run to the gig and set about lowering her while St. Ermins fetched up the women.
Another round shot coming over caused them to duck their heads, then jump for cover from the splinters as it smashed through a hatchway farther forward. Exchanging a sheepish grin, they resumed their conversation and Roger gave Dan further instructions that he wished carried out should he be killed during the action, or if it proved impossible to get the gig away. Dan did not at all relish these but he had been in too many tight corners with Roger to question his judgment, so he reluctantly agreed to obey them.
It was now getting on for half-past one. At every change of tack Shots were being exchanged and both ships had scored further hits. The Circe's after cabin had had four balls through it and part of her poop deck-house smashed in, but she had landed two rounds in the Frenchman's fo'c'sle and shot away the tip of her jib-boom, forcing her to haul in her flying jib. Yet, this loss of sailing power was so comparatively slight that she was still gaining upon them. Three balls had just struck when she suddenly turned into the wind and fired her first broadside.
The guns had obviously been aimed high, in the hope of bringing down one of Circe's masts. With a whistling scream the eight balls hurtled overhead. Three of them passed harmlessly, three more tore rents in the sails, and two only cut pieces of rigging. No serious harm had been done and a little time must elapse before the enemy could get into position to fire another broadside; but that might have more serious results; so Captain Cummins decided that, rather than wait until wreckage might impede movements on the decks, arms should now be served out, and he gave the key of the armoury to the Second Mate.
A few minutes later, muskets, pistols, cutlasses and boarding-pikes were being passed from hand to hand until every man of the crew had a fire-arm and some other weapon. Those on the poop received theirs last, and Bloggs was given a pistol and a cutlass. As he thrust the pistol into his belt his gaze travelled slowly over the little groups of men down on the deck, then he gave a swift glance at Captain Cummins, who was standing at the after rail with his back turned, and let go the wheel.
Instantly it and the ship swung round. Her sails emptied, billowed out and flapped with the noise of guns, then hung slack.
With a savage oath the Captain turned, strode towards him, and bellowed: "The wheel, Quartermaster! The wheel! What in thunder are you about?"
But Bloggs had turned his back to the wheel, and it was evident now that he had been waiting only for the moment when he and his fellow malcontents should be armed. Lifting his cutlass he shouted defiantly: "Haul down your flag, tyrant! Me an' my mates ain't going to be killed for the likes of you.
At the sound of their raised voices all eyes were turned upon them. Down on the deck, as though at a pre-arranged signal, Bloggs's friends drew their weapons and ran towards the Mates. Up on the poop, one of the gun-crew suddenly turned and, whirling his ramrod on high, struck down the bos'n.