I could hear, as well as see, that brandy-faced rascal, Israel Hands, plumping down a round shot on the deck. "Who's the best shot?" asked the captain. "Mr. Trelawney, out and away," said I. "Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off one of those men, sir? Hands, if possible," said the captain. Trelawney was as cold as steel. He looked to the priming of his gun. "Now," cried the captain, "easy with that gun, sir, or you'll swamp the boat. All hands stand by to trim her when he aims." The squire raised his gun, the rowing ceased, and we leaned over to the other side to keep the balance, and all was so nicely contrived that we did not ship a drop. [Illustration: _They had the gun, by this time, slewed around upon the swivel_ (Page 125)] They had the gun, by this time, slewed around upon the swivel, and Hands, who was at the muzzle, with the rammer, was, in consequence, the most exposed. However, we had no luck; for just as Trelawney fired, down he stooped, the ball whistling over him, and it was one of the other four who fell. The cry he gave was echoed, not only by his companions on board, but by a great number of voices from the shore, and looking in that direction I saw the other pirates trooping out from among the trees and tumbling into their places in the boats. "Here come the gigs, sir," said I. "Give way, then," said the captain. "We mustn't mind if we swamp her now. If we can't get ashore, all's up." "Only one of the gigs is being manned, sir," I added; "the crew of the other is most likely going around by shore to cut us off." "They'll have a hot run, sir," returned the captain. "Jack ashore, you know. It's not them I mind; it's the round shot. Carpet bowls! My lady's maid couldn't miss. Tell us, squire, when you see the match, and we'll hold water." In the meantime we had been making headway at a good pace for a boat so overloaded, and we had shipped but little water in the process. We were now close in; thirty or forty strokes and we should beach her, for the ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the clustering trees. The gig was no longer to be feared; the little point had already concealed it from our eyes. The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed us, was now making reparation, and delaying our assailants. The one source of danger was the gun. "If I durst," said the captain, "I'd stop and pick off another man." But it was plain that they meant nothing should delay their shot. They had never so much as looked at their fallen comrade, though he was not dead, and I could see him trying to crawl away. "Ready!" cried the squire. "Hold!" cried the captain, quick as an echo.