I skipped towards the poop, shouting to the men; and the dons
fired their broadside as I went.--God save us from that din! But I knew
the old _Seahorse_ was done this time--the old ship lurched and shook as
the balls tore through her and broke her back; and there was such a yell
as you'll never hear this side of hell. Well--I was on the poop by now,
and the men after me; for you see the poop of the _Seahorse_ was as high
as the middle deck of the Spaniard, and we must board from there or not
at all. Well, lads, there was the captain before me. He had fought cool
till then, as cool as a parson among his roses, with never an oath from
his mouth--but now he was as scarlet as a poppy, and his eyes were like
blue fire, and his mouth jabbered and foamed; he was so hot, you see, at
the loss of his ship. He was dancing to and fro waiting while the poop
swung round on the tide; and the old craft plunged deeper in every wave
that lifted her, but he cared no more for that nor for the musket-balls
from the tops, nor for the brown grinning devils who shook their pikes at
him from the decks, than--than a mad dog cares for a shower of leaves;
but he stamped there and cursed them and damned them as they laughed at
him; and then in a moment the poop touched.
"Well, lads--" and the lieutenant set his cup down on the table, clapped
his hands on his knees, laughed shortly and nervously once or twice, and
looked round. "Well, lads, I have never seen the like. The captain went
for them like a wild cat; one step on the rail and the next among them;
and was gone like a stone into water"--and the lad clapped his hand on
his thigh.
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