They stood watching this for a few moments, and then steadying the lantern with one hand, Tom slowly raised his cutlass with the other. A slight alteration of the rays of light must have flashed in the signal _Danger_! to the man at work, for the strange dull clinking of the links finished suddenly with one louder clink than the rest. The chain had been dropped as the hand darted in. Grote started back into wakefulness at the sound and sprang to his feet, on guard with his cutlass, while Tom Fillot fully uncovered the lantern, and held it up right in the man's face, the light gleaming on the weapons they held. "Yes, you're a nice 'un, you are," growled Tom Fillot, "Look at that. Where should we have been in another hour if we'd trusted to you?" The man stared at the two heaps of chain, then at Tom Fillot, and then at his young officer, as he uttered a low groan. "I've done it now, sir," he faltered, in his deep bass. "I did try so hard, sir; oh, so hard, but it come over me like all of a sudden, and walking up and down warn't no good. I was asleep as I walked, and at last I thought if I shut my eyes a moment--" _Bang_! A sharp flash and a report made all three start back, and spread the alarm, one of the first to run up being the great black, bar in hand, his eyes flashing, his teeth gleaming, and all eager to join in any fray on behalf of those who had saved his life. "Wish my cutlash had come down heavy on the hand as fired that shot," muttered Tom Fillot. "Put out the light," said Mark sharply. Tom Fillot drew his jacket over the lantern, and they all stood round ready for the next order. "Haul back the chain," said Mark, in a low voice. "Fillot, stand by, ready to cut at the first hand which thrusts out a pistol." Then going close to the ventilator, he shouted down, "Below there you heard my orders. We shall show no mercy now." A shout of defiance came up, followed by another shot, as the chain began to clink and chink while being hauled back and piled round and round from the edge toward the centre. "Stop!" cried Mark, as a thought struck him. Then in a whisper, "I'll have an anchor laid on instead of the cable, and then I'll have that run back into the tier. No: better still. Get up the biggest water cask we have." "Ay, ay, sir," cried Tom; and, with all the alacrity of man-o'-war's men, he and his fellows went off with the lantern, and before long had a cask on deck and rolled it up to the hatchway. "But what for I dunno," muttered Tom, "unless it's for a sentry box." He soon learned. "Buckets," said Mark, laconically; and as soon as these were obtained, though in full expectation of shots being fired through the wooden cover at them, he gave his orders and the chain was rapidly hauled to the deck. But no shot was fired from below, the Americans evidently expecting that they would be attacked, and reserving their fire for the moment when the chain was all off, and the hatch thrown open.