"Make ready, my lads," he cried. "Cutlasses only. Quick!" Just then there was a fresh crackling and breaking sound, and the skylight, through which he had meant to lead his men, was also darkened by the falling over it of a part of the great sail and the gaff; so that they were in twilight. "Better try the door, sir," cried Tom Fillot. "We'll kick it out now, sir; there's nothing behind." "Quick, then, quick!" cried Mark, excitedly; and the men went at it with a cheer, while the shouting of orders on deck grew more loud and angry. "We must get out, Tom," cried Mark, "and make a desperate effort ourselves. If the boats get here first, they will claim to have taken the schooner, and rob us of all the honour." "We'll try, sir," cried Tom. "Go it, my lads! Lay your backs into it. Soup, heave!" But the door resisted all their efforts, and it was evident that the Americans had wedged it with a couple of pieces of wood. "Oh, this is maddening," cried Mark. "They mustn't find us prisoners here below." "Let's try the skylight, sir," cried Tom Fillot; and at a word from Mark, he mounted the little table, and began to drag at the heavy canvas, so as to get it aside, but came down with a crash, as there was a flash and the report of a pistol. "Hurt, Tom?" cried Mark, in agony, as he went down on one knee in the dim cabin, and caught at the sailor's arm. "Hurt, sir!" grumbled the man. "Just you lose your footing, and come down with your ribs on the edge of that table, and see if you wouldn't be hurt." "But I mean shot--wounded." "Yah! no. He couldn't hit a hay-stack, sir. I'm all right." "Let me try," said Dick Bannock, "while he's loading his pea-shooter." The man mounted the table, and began to drag at the canvas and tangle of rope, and blocks, but there was no attack made upon him, and he struggled on till he was obliged to give up with a sigh of despair. "Can't you do it?" cried Mark. "No, sir, nohow. Wants someone on deck with a hax." "Let's try the window again," cried Mark; but a few minutes decided that. Hampered by the great sail hanging down, there was no exit there without cutting a way through, while those who tried would have been quite at the mercy of the men on deck. Back at the door, they hammered and beat and thrust, trying all they knew without avail, till suddenly, as a cheer was heard alongside, one of the pieces of wood which wedged them in so securely gave way a little, then a little more, and with the tramping of feet increasing overhead, the door flew open. Mark bounded out, but was driven back into the cabin by Bob Howlett, who forced his way in with his men, his first words shouted in the dark cabin--doubly dark to those who entered from the glaring Afric sunshine--silencing Tom Fillot and his comrades, who shrank back puzzled at first, then full of mirth and enjoyment at the midshipman's mistake.