and reluctantly disappeared (with a very pale face) down the main-hatch. “Bang!” from the Britisher. The shot, a thirty-two, flew high over their heads, carrying away one of the main topsail lifts.
“Carpenter!” shouted Freddy.
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“Stave in the boats.”
“But—“
“Not a word, or I'll blow your head off.”
The carpenter took an axe and sullenly obeyed orders.
“Boatswain's mate!”
“Sir!”
“Can she carry any more sail?”
“Not an inch, sir.”
The chase lasted half-an-hour, in the course of which the Britisher rapidly overhauled the slaver, for the breeze had increased to half a gale. At length a round shot carried away the mizzen about two feet below the necklace, and with a fearful crash the mast and its cumbrous gear fell over the ship's quarter. Two men were carried overboard with it.
“Go!” shouted Foggerty down the hatch. He took out his watch; the crew held their breath, and each man nervously clutched at something.
“Go it is!” replied the muffled voice of the pale mate, as he obeyed the order from the lower deck. In another moment he rushed up the companion.
“The match is fired!” screamed he, “and in two minutes we shall be blown to feathers!” And so saying he flung himself overboard—an example which was followed by the greater part of the crew.
