g around, in the midst of which
stood the great black, whirling the capstan bar with which he was armed
about his head, after delivering a crushing blow at someone who had
tried to climb out, and then dropped back groaning, but not much
injured, fortunately for him, the principal force of the blow having
fallen upon the woodwork of the hatchway.

As the black saw them he uttered a low, savage roar, and pointed to his
shoulder, which had been grazed by a pistol ball, the smarting making
the great fellow grin with rage and roll his eyes.

"Hi, below there!" cried Mark, the excitement making him forget all
danger. "Hand up that pistol and any other weapons you have, or we'll
fire down among you."

The answer was a flash, a sharp report, and a puff of smoke, Mark being
conscious of a whizzing sound close by one ear.

"You scoundrels!" he cried, passionately. "Surrender; do you hear?"

"Not we," came in a familiar voice. "S'render yourselves. You're not
Queen's officers, only pirates, and I'm going to retake my ship."

"If that pistol is not thrown out on the deck, sir, I give the orders to
fire," cried Mark.

"That's jist what you darn't do, mister," said the American skipper.

"Let 'em have it, sir," whispered Tom Fillot, excitedly.

But Mark felt as if the skipper's words were correct, and that he dare
not fire down into that cabin to the destruction of some poor wretch's
life, so he did not--to use Tom Fillot's expression--"Let 'em have it,"
but gave orders sharply in the way of defence, and not attack.

"Clap on the hatch, Tom," he shouted; and the covering, which had been
forced off in some way, was thrust back and held down for a moment or
two, before Tom leaped away as a shot crashed through, and the hatch was
driven off once more.

By this time the rest of the men were gathered round, and it was just as
well, for a daring attempt was made to climb on deck, but only for each
man who attempted the feat to be sent down again by a blow on head or
shoulder.

"If you'd give orders, sir," said Tom, "we'd soon have that hatch over
again, and fifty fathom o' chain cable piled atop."

"I don't like risking you men's lives," said Mark; "but there's no going
back now; it must be done."

"Come on, Dick Bannock," cried Tom Fillot, rolling up his sleeves. "You
chaps stand by with the end of that cable."

Another shot was fired from the forecastle, and directly after the
muzzle of a pistol appeared over the s