"Go in, yew," roared the man in the boat, presenting his pistol again; but at that moment Tom Fillot took aim with an empty bottle he had kicked from out of a locker, and hurled it over Mark's head with all his might. So true was Tom's aim, and so swiftly was the bottle sent, that the American had not time to avoid it, and received a heavy blow in the chest, sufficient to disorder his aim as he fired again. "Ay, ay, sir," cried Dance, who seemed quite clear again in his head. "Quick, then," cried Mark, excitedly. "Cut the tow-rope and stand off." "Yah!" came in a roar from the boat, as the man suddenly sat down, "give way--pull, boys--pull like steam!" The men began to send the boat through the water, making it foam, and they had but a cable's length to go, but the moments were lengthened out by excitement, and it seemed to Mark as if Joe Dance would never get the cable cut in time. For while the oars splashed and the men pulled, the coxswain tried to get out his knife, and as Mark and the others watched him, he was evidently nervous, and fumbled. Then he tried to open it with his teeth, but the spring was strong, and he had to alter his tactics and begin to open it with his forefinger and thumb nail, and still it seemed as if he could not get it open; and all the time the boat was rapidly setting nearer. In another few seconds it would be alongside, and the Americans would be on board, five against two, unless Taters made a brave defence. There were a couple of dozen blacks on deck, but they were only staring stupidly at the approaching boat, and Joe Dance was still fumbling with his knife, while Grote had disappeared. "Oh, if I was only there!" cried Tom Fillot. "They might have saved that schooner," groaned Mark. "Oh, Tom, Tom, is there nothing we can do?" "No, sir; only look on. Hah! at last." "Yes, he's sawing at the cable with his knife." "And it's blunt as hoop iron," groaned Tom. "They're alongside. It's all over. Was there ever such luck?" "Cut, you beggar, cut!" yelled Tom Fillot. "Too late--too late!" said Mark bitterly, as he saw Dance still hacking at the cable, and the boat pulled alongside, while the bow man threw in his oar, and seized a boathook as he rose in his place. In another minute the Americans would have been on deck, and the schooner taken; but, just as Mark Vandean's heart sank heavy as lead, Grote suddenly appeared with an axe in his hand, while his words of warning came clearly to where they stood looking on. "Stand aside!" Then--_Chop_! One dull, heavy blow, and the hawser, cut closely through where it passed over the bows, dropped with a splash into the water and disappeared. The little party at the cabin window sent out a cheer and then a groan, for the bow man had hooked on, and the Americans began to climb up, their leader having his hands on the bulwarks, and sprang aboard, when something black, which proved to be Taters' fist, struck him in the face, and he fell back.