"Now you men listen to me," said Falk. "After all, what's the use of behaving this way? You're just getting yourselves into trouble with the law. We can send you to the gallows for this little spree, and what's more we're going to do it--unless, that is, unless you come round sensible and call it all off. Now what do you say? Why don't you be reasonable? You take us on board and we'll use you right and hush all this up as best we can. What do you say?" "What do we say?" said Roger, "We say that bread and water have gone to your head. You were singing another time a while back." "Oh well, we _were_ a little down in the mouth then. But we're feeling a sight better now. Come, ain't our plan reasonable?" All the time they were rowing slowly nearer to the ship. "Mistah Falk, O Mistah Falk!" "Well?" Falk received the cook's interruption with an ill temper that made the darkey's eyes roll with joy. "Whar you git dat bootiful head-piece?" A flush darkened Falk's pale face under the bandage, and with what dignity he could muster, he ignored our snickers. "What do you say?" he cried to Roger. "Evidently you haven't found the money yet." To us Roger said in an undertone, "Hold your fire." To Falk he replied clearly, "You black-hearted villain, if you show your face in a Christian port you'll go to the gallows for abetting the cold-blooded murder of an able officer and an honorable gentleman, Captain Joseph Whidden. Quid that over a while and stow your tales of piracy and mutiny. Back water, you! Keep off!" Here was no subtle insinuation. Falk was stopped in his tracks by the flat statement. He had a dazed, frightened look. But Kipping, who had kept himself in the background up to this point, now assumed command. "Them's bad words," he said mildly, coldly. "Bad words. _But_--" he slightly raised his voice--"we ain't a-goin' to eat 'em. Not we." All at once he let out a yell that rang shrilly far over the water. "At 'em, men! At 'em! Pull, you sons of the devil, pull! Out pikes and cutlasses! Take 'em by storm! Slash the netting and go over the side." "Hold your fire,"--Roger repeated,--"one minute--till I give the word." My heart was pounding at my ribs. I was breathing in fast gulps. With my thumb on the hammer of the musket, I gave one glance to the priming, and half raised it to my shoulder. From the bottom of the boat Falk's men had snatched up the weapons that hitherto they had kept out of sight. I had no time then to wonder why they did not shoot; afterwards we agreed that they probably were so short of powder and balls that they dared not expend any except in gravest emergency. Kipping was standing as they rowed, and so fiercely now did they ply their oars, casting to the winds every pretence of weakness, that the boat rocked from side to side. "At 'em!" Kipping snarled. "We'll show 'em! We'll show'em!" "Hold your fire, men," said Roger the third time. "I'll wing that bird." And aiming deliberately, he shot.