I felt better at that, and waited for the attack. Mr Frewen was back with us, and Mr Preddle too. Mr Denning was also in his old place with his gun; and as the men, including the four who had joined us, were armed with the weapons they had brought from the boat, they made a respectable show. "But do you think we can trust those men?" I whispered to Bob. "Trust 'em, my lad?" he replied, with a chuckle. "You jest may. They knows it would be all over with 'em if once Frenchy got 'em under his thumb again. Don't you be scared about them; they'll fight like gamecocks." "If we could only get the wind again," said Mr Frewen, who looked anxious. "Is there any chance of it, Bob?" I asked. "Can't say, sir. Maybe we shall get a breeze; maybe we shan't. But never mind; we'll raise a storm for them in the boats, in precious few minutes too. She's charged all right, arn't she, sir?" "Oh yes," said Mr Preddle. "I rammed the cartridge well home, and primed the touch-hole with powder." "Then I should not wait long," said Mr Frewen, anxiously. "It will perhaps make the scoundrels keep off." "'Zactly, sir. Mr Dale here's skipper now, and he'll give the order directly." "No, no," I said; "Mr Frewen, you take the lead." "I am only the doctor," he replied, with a smile, which made me feel that he was laughing at me. But the boats were coming on so fast that something had to be done, and in my excitement I cried-- "Now, Bob. Time!" "Ay, ay, sir," he shouted, going down on one knee to point the little gun. "Sarvice!" There was a growl from forward, and Neb Dumlow came limping from the galley, along the narrow piece of deck, by where the steam still rose, and flourishing a red-hot poker, hurried to our side. "Cap'en o' the gun says--Stand well from behind; keep alongside, 'cause she kicks. One moment. I can't get no better aim. Now, sir, ready!" "Fire!" I cried; and I felt in agony, but had faith in Bob Hampton's words. Down went the hot poker. There was a flash, a fizz, and a puff of smoke from the touch-hole, and that was all. No, not all, for a puff of wind followed that of smoke, and the ship began to glide onward again, while the men gave a cheer, and Barney ran to the wheel. "Saved once more," cried Mr Frewen. "Yes, sir, and them too. But beg pardon, sir," growled Bob Hampton; "I mean you, sir,--Mr Preddle, sir,--are you sure as you loaded the gun?" "Yes, quite. With one of these cartridges,"--and he went to a box, out of which he took one with the ball fitted in its place by means of a couple of tin bands. "That's right, sir; but did you ram it home?" "Yes, hard." Bob Hampton thrust in the rammer and felt the cartridge. "Yes, sir; seems right. Perhaps the powder's old and damp." "No; I think it was perfectly dry." "Humph!" growled Bob; and then an idea seemed to strike him. "Beg pardon, sir," he cried; "would you mind showing me how you shoved the cartridge in?"