"Fire, my lads!"

There was a silence. No one on the quarter-deck stirred. Those on the
forecastle who had stood with their faces our way, expecting to see the
effect of the volley, looked round impatiently to see why the guns were
mute.

Then came a cry of "Spiked!" followed by a howl of dismay as the
contents of one of our quarter-deck guns crashed with a dull, savage
roar on to the forecastle.

When the smoke cleared we saw a ghastly sight. Men lay in all
directions--some blown to pieces, some groaning in pools of blood, some
dragging themselves with livid faces to a place of shelter.

For my own part, I dreaded to hear Mr Adrian give the order to fire the
second gun. The only thing which prevented it was the sudden clearing
of the forecastle. All who could rushed to the main-deck, where at
least they were below the range of the deadly grape.

Here Callan, who had escaped unhurt, called on his men to form, which
they did in three straggling lines across the deck, howling execrations
and flourishing their knives in our direction.

Before they could advance--before, indeed, those of them who carried
pistols could fire--Mr Adrian, who had ranged us up behind the
barricade, gave the signal to present arms and fire.

It was a volley almost as deadly as the first. Callan sprang a foot or
two in the air, and fell back shot through the heart. The front rank of
the mutineers went down like ninepins, and those behind fell back a pace
in consternation, "Reload! Mark your men!" cried Mr Adrian, whose face
was savage and as hard as a flint.

The wretches gathered themselves together after a moment's hesitation,
and stepping over the fallen bodies of their comrades, advanced with a
half-hearted rush for the quarter-deck.

"Present! fire!" cried Mr Adrian.

Once more man after man went down dead or wounded, and the deck was
strewn with bodies. A heavy sea at the moment broke over the quarter,
sweeping the deck and clashing living and dead in a heap into the lee-
scuppers. A few stood still, eyeing dubiously first one another, then
the quarter-deck, then the waves as they broke across the waist.

"Reload! Mark your men!" cried Mr Adrian again, with a curl of his
lips.

The mutineers heard the command, and dropping their weapons, retreated
in a panic to the hatchways.

"Fire!" said Mr Adrian; "and after them, some of you, and make fast the
hatches."

The first order was not obeyed. It had been bad enough