52 MARTIN RATTLER.

“Ficht them!” cried the captain; “ they're four
times our number, and every man armed to the teeth.
If ye don’t fancy walking the plank or dancing on
nothing at the yard-arm, ye’d better pull away and
hold your jaw.”

By this time they could just see the schooner’s boats
in the dim light, about half musket range astern.

“Back you’ oars,” shouted a stern voice in broken
English, “or I blow you out de watter in one oder
moment—black-yards !”

This order was enforced by a musket shot, which
whizzed over the boat within an inch of the captain’s
head. The men ceased rowing, and the boats of the
pirate ranged close up.

“Now then, Martin,” whispered Barney O’Flannagan,
who sat at the bow oar, “I’m goin’ to swim ashore;
jist you slip arter me as quiet as ye can.”

“But the sharks!” suggested Martin.

“Bad luck to them,” said Barney as he slipped
over the side; “they’re welcome to me. I'll take my
chance. They'll find me mortial tough, anyhow. Come
along, lad, look sharp!”

Without 2 moment’s hesitation Martin slid over the
gunwale into the sea, and, just as the pirate boats
grappled with those of the barque, he and Barney

found themselves gliding as silently as otters towards