"Not I, by your leave, sir," retorted the master. "Let the vessel settle but a minute and this mud holds her. Pipe the men aft," he shouted, and in obedience to the shrill cry of the bosn’s mate’s whistle the whole ship’s company, including the officers, assembled at the waist, save the men who manned the capstan bars. "Now, ye blackamoors, haul away!" yelled the master to the crowd on the banks. "More beef into it, bullies," urged the bos’n to the capstan men, and, as the strain on the cables increased, the rest of the crew, in obedience to an order, doubled along the sloping decks, as well as they were able, towards the bows, the whole vessel trembling with the motion. This manoeuvre was successful. Hardly had the body of men reached the foremast when the _Gannet_ glided forward and entered the deep waters of the harbour, the two ropes on her quarter trailing astern, and the mob of excited negroes who had manned them were shouting and dancing on the banks of the creek. The _Gannet_ brought up on her shortened cable, sail was hastily made, and away we went southward in chase of the buccaneers. As we cleared the mouth of the harbour we perceived their ships nearly hull down; but with every stitch of canvas set, and withal a newly cleaned hull, we rapidly lessened the distance between us. That they suspected not the presence of a king’s ship in Port Royal was evident in that they made no attempt to sheer off; instead, they beat up towards us till we could clearly make them out. Then, as if aware of our formidable character, they turned, two making away to the north-west, two to the south-east, while the fifth, though she showed her heels for a time, backed her main-topsail and hove to. She was a long, rakish, yellow-sided craft, evidently built for speed, and her audacity puzzled us mightily; but knowing the diabolical cunning of these freebooters, we were determined to take no chance of a surprise. We were almost within range when her maintopsail filled and she was off, following the direction of her two consorts who had made towards Hispaniola. As we watched her there were signs of a struggle taking place on board--pistol-shots rang out, and a heavy form plunged over her taffrail. Instantly several men rushed to the stern and opened fire on the object, which, so many of our crew declared, was a man swimming. This it turned out to be. Amid a hail of shots that churned up the placid water all around him a man’s head appeared, and the swimmer, using powerful strokes, made directly towards us. "It seemeth strange that he escapes their fire," remarked the bos’n, as the swimmer bobbed up and down amid the splash of the shot. "We may pick him up. Away there--prepare a bowline." "I believe they do not try to hit him," replied the master; "or their gunnery is far worse than yesterday, when they hulled the _Whitby_. But he will never reach this ship alive. Look!"