her shot came whizzing past us close enough
to him to prove that the fellows still had it in their power to undo all
our work by a single lucky hit.

"Why, Hawkesley," he exclaimed, "this will never do; we _must_ put a
stop to this somehow. We cannot afford to be hard hit, either of us,
for another hour and a half at least. What is to be done? How does
your shoulder feel? Can you use your right arm?"

"I am afraid I cannot," I replied; "my shoulder is dreadfully painful,
and my arm seems to have no strength in it. But I can steer easily with
one hand now?"

"How many people do you think there are in the cabin?" was Smellie's
next question.

"I can scarcely say," I replied; "but I have only been able to
distinguish _three_ voices so far."

"Three, eh? The skipper and two mates, I suppose." He ruminated a
little, stepped forward, and presently returned with a rather
formidable-looking iron bar he had evidently noticed some time before;
and coolly remarked as he began to drag away the hatch-covers from
before the companion:

"I am going down below to give those fellows their _quietus_. If I do
not, there is no knowing what mischief they may yet perpetrate before we
get the--what was it those fellows called her?--ah! the _Josefa_--before
we get the _Josefa_ under the _Daphne's_ guns. Now, choose a star to
steer by before I remove any more of this lumber, and then sit down on
deck as much on one side as you can get; I shall try to draw their fire
and then rush down upon them."

With that he removed his jacket and threw it loosely over the iron bar,
which he laid aside for the moment whilst he cleared away the
obstructions from before the doors. Then, taking up the coat and
holding it well in front of the opening so as to produce in the
uncertain light the appearance of a figure standing there, he suddenly
flung back the slide and threw open the doors.

The immediate results were a couple of pistol shots and a rush up the
companion-ladder, the latter of which Smellie promptly stopped by
swinging his somewhat bulky carcass into the opening and letting himself
drop plump down upon the individuals who were making it. There was a
scuffle at the bottom of the ladder, another pistol shot, two or three
dull crushing blows, another brief scuffle, and then Smellie reappeared,
with blood flowing freely from his left arm, and a truculent-looking
Spaniard in tow. This fellow he dragged on deck, and unceremoniously