"The captain gave me a hand," Tom explained, "or else I would never have finished tying him up. "Better keep an eye out," cautioned the mate. "Looks to me like they were going to make another try for the ladders." "All right," the boys replied, and exchanging an encouraging slap on the back, they took up their positions. "Holler, if you want to be saved agin," instructed Tim. But Tom did not reply, for when he crouched down and peered at the shadow of the deckhouse, where the group was, there was something about their attitude, as nearly as he could make out, that indicated preparations for a concerted attack. The repulse of the last assault had angered the mutineers, and they were now determined at all costs to overcome the little group on the after deck, and deal with them as they had planned. Meanwhile, the captain had been steadily holding the ship on the shore tack, and he figured that by daylight they would be in sight of land. The boys had not long to wait before the rush began. With a shout, the crew dashed along the deck, faltered for a moment as the three defenders fired at them, and then came on. The boys and the mate seized another musket each, and fired once more, this time in their opponents' very faces. But those behind pushed their frightened and wounded comrades aside and started up the ladders. The larger party made for Tom, while just enough to make things interesting surged up and down the ladder that Tim and the mate were guarding. Had one of them left to aid Tom, the other would probably have been overpowered. So Tom had his hands full, and although he kept the leaders from gaining the deck, he was slowly tiring from his exertions, and he knew that before long the mutineers would have him overpowered. Tom was growing dizzy, and the ceaseless swinging and thrusting with his musket was weakening, when from the forward hatch burst a fresh group of men shouting wildly and rushing for the rear of the mutineers. The attacking party turned to meet what they thought was a new foe, and Tom sank back against the cabin thoroughly exhausted. "She's afire! Save yourselves!" the new arrivals were shouting. "She's afire! The hold is burning!" The words came dimly to Tom's ears, and he dropped to the deck with a feeling that at last rest had come, and all was over. But not for long. Tim and the mate came upon him lying there, and picking him up bodily, carried him to the rail. There the captain was working desperately over the boat on the davits, and the mate turned to help him. In a few moments they had the ropes loosed, and placing Tom in the bottom of the boat they all climbed in and lowered away. The dory struck the water, rose on the next wave, and was away from the ship. They pulled out the oars from under the seats, put them in place and rowed away. The sailors were rushing wildly about the decks seeking some means of escape.