The Captain, his eyes suffused with rage, pulled out his pistol, but Bloggs was quicker. With a mighty swipe of his cutlass he clove Cummins from forehead to chin. His face pouring blood, the Captain slumped to the deck. The cutlass, stuck fast in the terrible wound, dragged Bloggs down half on top of him. Putting his foot on the dying man's chest he strove to drag it free.
Roger and Charles had been standing near the gun. Both whipped out their swords. Charles ran his through the man who had struck down the bos'n; as the blade slid home below the mutineer's ribs his eyes bulged in their sockets, he gave an awful groan, doubled up and staggered away clasping his stomach.
Another of the gun-crew came at. Roger with a boarding pike. It was the favourite weapon among seamen and very awkward to counter with a rapier. The man was small but very agile and, jumping from side to side, thrust with his pike at Roger's face. Roger managed to beat aside the strokes but one of them caught him in the forearm, ripping open the sleeve of his coat and drawing blood. The wound was not serious and he used it to carry out an old trick.
Pretending to have been disabled, he stepped back and let his sword arm drop. With a cry of triumph his attacker ran in on him. At the critical second he dropped on one knee and turned his sword upwards as though in a salute. The pike passed harmlessly over his shoulder, while the point of the sword pierced the sailor below the chin. With a violent thrust Roger forced the blade home. The man's scream was choked in his throat by a rush of blood. He dropped his pike, went over backwards and lay squirming on the deck.
Meanwhile, the First Mate had pulled out his pistol and fired at Bloggs. Just in time the Quartermaster caught sight of him and ducked. The bullet whistled through Bloggs's curly black hair. Giving his head a shake, he abandoned his efforts to free his cutlass from the Captain's skull, and sprang away. The Mate clubbed his pistol and ran at him to strike him down, but Bloggs seized his wrist and they closed in a desperate wrestle. The Dutchman weighed fourteen stone, and was a tough, powerfully built man, but the ex-blacksmith was as strong or stronger. Swaying this way and that, they strove for mastery.
Charles had been about to come to Roger's help, but as the man with the pike went down, he turned and took a step forward, intending to run to the assistance of the Mate. By ill luck he trod in a pool of blood, slipped, and measured his length on the deck. Quickly, he picked himself up, but it was then too late.
Bloggs had succeeded in breaking the Dutchman's hold. Stooping suddenly, he seized him under one knee and by the cravat, then heaving him up bodily, he staggered to the ship's side and threw him overboard.
Roger, too, had seen the Mate's desperate situation. As Bloggs swung the unfortunate man off his feet, he sprang over Charles's prostrate body and ran towards them. The boom of a second broadside sounded from the Frenchman, and at that moment it took effect. One of the shots struck the mizenmast full and true about twelve feet up. There was a frightful sound of rending timber. The upper part of the mast heeled over to port. Yards, spars, sails, rigging and blocks came crashing down smothering the poop and everyone on it beneath them. Roger was hit on the head by a piece of tackle and pitched forward unconscious.
chapter VII
CAPTURED BY PIRATES
When Roger regained consciousness he found himself in the after cabin. All sound of fighting had ceased and there were only the usual noises of the ship's gear straining against the wind as she ploughed her way smoothly through the sea. For a moment he wondered where he was, then the sight of the shattered mirrors and splashes of Nell's blood on the silk covering of the settee where he lay brought everything back to him.
Amanda was sitting beside him, and he took in the fact that she was crying. As he raised his bandaged head her sobs gave place to a sigh of relief, and quickly laying a gentle hand on his chest she urged him to lie still.
His head ached abominably, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open. By turning it slightly he saw that Georgina was sitting slumped over the table, her dark head resting on her arms, and that Jenny, also weeping, was endeavouring to comfort her with an arm thrown round her shoulders. Clarissa was not in his field of vision but moved into it shortly after Amanda spoke, to stare down at him. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and her small face drawn, but she smiled faintly.
"What happened," Roger asked in a husky voice.
Putting her hand behind his head Amanda raised it a little and held a cup of wine to his lips so that he could take a few sips, then she said:
"Tis a mercy you were not killed, my love. You were struck on the head by a spar when the mizenmast came down. But you must not talk. It's bad for you. Close your eyes now and try to go to sleep."
"I must know what happened," he insisted.
It was Clarissa who answered. "We know only what we have been told. 'Tis said that Bloggs killed Captain Cummins and led a mutiny. The ship ceased to go forward before the mast was shot away and it seems, thinking our case was hopeless, most of the crew had already decided to surrender rather than fight. When the pirates boarded us they met with no resistance, and we are now captives. After they had cleared the debris from the poop they brought you down here, but... but Charles. . . " Her young voice faltered to a stop and she looked away.
Roger sat up with a jerk. A blinding pain shot through his head. With a groan, he shut his eyes, then gasped: "You . . . you do not mean .. .?"
Clarissa nodded. "They say he was struck down by the mast and when found was already dead."
Amanda rounded on her angrily. "Need you have disclosed our loss while Roger is in so precarious a state? 'Tis wicked to disturb his mind when above all things it needs rest"
"Reproach her not!" Roger exclaimed as he sank back. "There are times when it is best to know the worst, and this is one of them. .What else is there to tell?"
Feeling that he would demand an answer, Amanda took up the tale. "The pirate is said to be a French nobleman named de Senlac. He has put a prize crew on board under a fearsome-looking individual— one Joao de Mondego. It seems that Bloggs's friends and the Porto Ricans all went over to the enemy. They have been left on board, while the four Balts and those of our own crew who remained loyal have been taken as prisoners to the barque. When they had hacked clear the fallen mast our remaining sails were trimmed again. We rounded the corner of Santo Domingo an hour back and are now proceeding along the island's north coast There! That is all we know. And now I pray you try not to think more than you can help of our predicament; for 'tis likely you are concussed, and may become subject to brain fever unless you can court successfully the soothing influence of sleep."
"What of Dan?" Roger asked. "And young Tom, and Monsieur Pirouet?"
"All three were taken aboard the Frenchman, with Doctor Fergusson, the Second Mate, and the loyal members of the crew."
"Tom and Dan had a quarrel," Clarissa put in. "Tom told me about it before he was taken away. Our flag had fallen with the mizen gear, but caught high up so was still flying well above the deck. Dan climbed up, cut it down and threw it into the sea. Tom was taken with a great rage that Dan should perform so treacherous an act and fought with him, but got the worst of it"
"Be silent, girl," Amanda snapped. "Have you not the sense to realize that this betrayal by our trusted servant will so distress Roger as to further excite his mind. Ill news will always keep, and additional woes the very last things that should be thrust upon him at this moment."
Clarissa stuck out her small pointed chin aggressively. "Your pardon, cousin* but I disagree. Wounded as Roger is, upon his leadership, and ability to plan for us now, rests our sole hope of preservation. Tis but proper that he should be made aware without delay of all particulars; so that he can formulate his policy accordingly."