peak again, he sniffed and snorted so much.

"Not bad that, Mackay," he said; "not bad--eh? But which of these
things would ye like best--eh?"

"I think I'll take the breech-loader, sir," replied the other, suiting
the action to the word and proceeding to examine the lock of one of the
Martini-Henrys, which seemed to be an old acquaintance of his, for he
loaded the chamber much quicker than I could manage my new acquisition;
"and I don't believe you could do better than hand the other to Rooney,
as you suggested. He's the best shot in the ship, I'm certain."

"Y'rself excepted," interposed the captain wonderfully politely for him;
singing out loudly at the same time, "Bosun!"

"Here, sorr," cried Tim, who had been waiting below close to the poop
ladder, expecting the summons, and who was all agog at the prospect of a
fight. "Here I am, sorr."

"Well, bosun," said Captain Gillespie, "it looks as if we'll have to
fight those rascals coming up astern and making for us. The cowards!
They didn't dare attack the old barquey when she was all ataunto in the
open sea; and only now rely on their numbers and the fact of our being
in limbo here. However, if they do attack us, we shall have a fight for
it."

"Bully for ye, sorr!" cried Tim enraptured. "It's mesilf as loikes a
fight, sure. I'm niver at pace barrin' whin I'm in a row, sure, sorr!"

"Then you'll be soon in your element," retorted Jock grimly. "Call the
hands aft."

"Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim; and going up to the rail he shouted out
in his ringing voice, "All ha-a-nds aft!"

"Now, my men," said "Old Jock," leaning over the poop and addressing
them as they stood below on the main-deck--"we've got a batch of
rascally pirates coming up after us astern; and, as you know, we can't
run away from 'em. What will ye do--cave in to 'em or fight 'em?"

The crew broke into a rousing cheer.

"Ye'll fight 'em, then?"

"Aye, aye, fight 'em till we make 'em sick!" shouted one of the hands
speaking for the rest, who endorsed his answer on their behalf with a
"Hip, hip, hooray!"

"And one for the skipper," shouted Joe Fergusson, who was a sailor of
sailors by this time and had learnt all their ways and talk, dropping
out of his old provincialisms. "Hip, hip, hooray!"

"And another for Mr Mackay," cried a voice that sounded like that of
Adams, causing the hooraying to start again with fresh force, this cheer
being much heartier than the first.

"Now, men,"